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Sir Gust De Weer
Raven of Dawn
The paeans of spring
Part IV
-A murder of crows-
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ACT II
-Raven-
Gust switched hands on Sir Mael’s old longsword, an eye firmly set on the moving away war-chariot and the masked officer staring back his way whilst holding on to a crying Lady Marleen, who had collapsed on her knees for some bizarre reason, and the other on Rik’s fight with the mounted Cataphract. The Raven of Dawn took a forward step over the beheaded Horselord and then reached to grab the heavy halberd the charioteer had dropped earlier.
The Scaldingport knight hoisted the long-reaching weapon over the shoulder, raising his right arm like he wielded a weird, monstrous javelin, pulled said arm back some -still moving and then hurled it as hard as he could towards the moving away chariot. Gust lost his helm stooping forward from the momentum, the long halberd screamed in the air, flew the thirty meters of ever-increasing distance in a brief second and brutally nailed the war-chariot’s driver right between the shoulder blades. The unwary man toppled forward, right over the front rail and his body disappeared under the open cabin, only to appear as a grotesquely mangled and gory mess under the racing chariot’s scythed wheels. The shocking outcome forced the officer to dive forward as well, letting go of Marleen to grab at the reins, with the unresponsive woman banging her head on the chariot’s sides as she collapsed on her knees.
And yet the girl remained on the deck of the escaping vehicle.
Eh.
A heavy-breathing Gust grimaced in frustration and turned around to find a fresh mount with a brief glance at the Cofol horse that had brought him there. Rik got shoved back by the stubborn Cataphract in the meantime, but upon seeing the helmless Gust approach with weighty strides his brother went in the attack and jumped forward again to distract the mounted Horselord.
Gust reached them a moment later, just as several horses were heard approaching from all sides. Sir Reuten, the knight was escorted by Solt and Axel ‘Mudriver’, led some of the Crows that had lost sight of Sir Gust during the charge and were part of the first and larger group, while the smaller group appeared to be the Horselord’s squire that dragged a couple of horses behind him, one of them ridden by a slave girl.
With a grunt, Gust grabbed the defending against Rik’s attack Cataphract left foot, heaved hard and tossed the cursing enemy knight from the saddle. The Cataphract landed badly, but managed to roll on the ground to get away from Rik, who stopped to take a breather with a glare at his older brother.
“Couldn’t you use a sword?” Rik snapped angrily.
“I need to use his horse,” Gust explained hoarsely. “This blade cuts too deep.”
“Uhm. Or maybe it’s just you. And what the all-Hells happened to yours?”
Your horse, was his meaning.
Gust stared briefly at the armoured warhorse that had tried to move near its standing up owner but gave up a moment later as the tall, brawny knight was standing in its way unwilling to move. The knight looked at his brother after smacking his lips.
“Didn’t make it. The one I got from that scout, fared even worse,” Rik’s battered helm nodded, not really surprised at his words. “I need one to go after the chariot,” Gust continued, noticing that the slave girl had rushed near the headless corpse of the Cataphract with loud laments of horror when she almost stepped on the severed bloody head.
“No you don’t. I won’t further her suffering,” Rik retorted hoarsely, moving his left arm up and down slowly. Gust realized his brother had been injured again. God darn fool. “Let her go Gust.” Rik added with finality.
He meant Marleen, but wasn’t ready to speak her name yet.
“Are you certain?” Gust grunted to give him the opportunity to reconsider. While not a betting man, Gust was convinced Marleen wasn’t heading for Castalor. “I got the driver out of the way.”
“You heard her. She has a kid,” Rik snapped not liking that Gust had forced him to explain himself and glared at the now surrounded Cataphract, as at least a dozen men-at-arms had arrived with Sir Reuten.
“I wasn’t really listening. Too busy saving your skinny arse,” Gust rustled a little annoyed and grabbed Rik’s shoulder to stop him from moving against the nervous Horselord that urged the still mounted on the second horse teenager, to leave with the slave girl.
Gust glanced at the girl, now holding the fallen Cataphract’s gore-covered helm and several of his personal artifacts, she had looted apparently.
Why you thieving wench…
“That’s Ermin Suru’s slave,” the Cataphract told the scowling Gust.
“Um.” Gust grunted unsure why he should care about it.
“The helm belongs to Marleen’s son,” the Horselord explained hoarsely, jerking back to avoid Solt’s sneaky attempt to stab him with a lance. The determined squire cursed and moved his horse closer to try again.
“Let him talk,” Rik snapped at Solt and the Cofol squire furrowed his brows, then glanced at Sir Reuten.
“Step aside boy. You’ll earn no gravitas for this,” an amused Sir Reuten scolded his squire.
“The girl and the arms belong to house Mirpur,” the Cataphract expounded tensely, keeping his distance from the disappointed Solt.
“So you’ll give up?” Gust asked, not really comfortable with all the courtly talk, while people were still fighting about them and the darkness was creeping close.
“Api-Nofre would fight one, or all of you to the death,” the Cataphract retorted raspingly. “Protect his legacy.”
Fine.
Gust moved to get it over with, but Rik thrusted his arm sideways to stop him.
“Would Api-Nofre protect Marleen instead?” His brother asked with a voice strangled by emotion, which was a surprise to Gust, as Rik usually avoided showing any weakness in front of anyone. When you grow up with a tough brother like Gust and with Ruud as your father, you are sort of forced to toughen up fast.
Still…
“Get your darn hand off…” Gust growled angrily, pushing Rik’s arm away.
“I serve the house Mirpur,” Api-Nofre replied unsure.
“You’ll serve Marleen henceforth and you’ll walk out of here unscathed, both in body and honor,” Rik countered.
“A noble request,” Api-Nofre murmured thoughtfully, face hidden behind the smiling metal mask.
“An even trade,” Rik agreed raspingly. “A life for a life.”
Api-Nofre nodded. “The spirits agree. You have my word Crow. But I need to give up something more for it to be fair. You see, I would have helped Aswad anyway. We are not Cofols and this isn’t a coin trade.”
A bemused Gust blinked and then glanced at the armoured warhorse. The horse looked at him with large curious eyes and snorted.
“I’ll have the horse,” he grunted and Api-Nofre stood back tensed momentarily, but then nodded in agreement.
“Hisan is a young stallion,” Api-Nofre warned him. “Difficult to ride, but it’s yours Crow.”
“Good,” Gust agreed not really interested on everything else.
“Let them go,” Rik ordered the men-at-arms circling about them. “Use the dark to ride away.” He advised Api-Nofre. “Beyond this field, you’re on your own.”
“I know where they are going,” Api-Nofre replied and with a last glance at the scowled Gust, he climbed on the saddle of another warhorse and took the reins from his squire/slave. “Mirah,” he ordered the sniveling slave girl that had gathered everything she had taken from the slain Horselord in a small bag. “You’re ride with Resan.”
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Gust watched them riding away for a moment as the dark started falling all about his men, until Rik’s voice brought him back.
“How did you end up with a new horse in this deal?” A tired-sounding Rik griped.
“It’s just a horse,” Gust retorted.
“Well, at least this one has a name,” his brother jested with a pained grunt and removed his helm, to show a blood-spattered, sweaty face. Rik looked just about ready to drop from exhaustion. “Robert is near?” His brother asked tiredly.
“Yeah,” Gust replied and stared at the armoured horse unsure. Hisan snorted and shook his head, large lips flapping under the metal Chamfron. “Horse,” Gust warned it before attempting to climb on the saddle.
“His name is Hisan Gust,” a worn-out Rik protested and Gust grunted getting on the saddle with ease. He glanced at Axel ‘Mudriver’ that had brought him the mud-covered helm, afore replying curtly to his brother.
“It means horse,” he rustled and added with a scowl that slowly turned into a taunting smirk at an unamused Rik. “I think the Horselord gave up his spare.”
God darn fool.
Sir Reuten got a hearty, as much as surprised, loud laugh out of this rare Gust jest, Axel ‘Mudriver’ nodded in a reserved manner, and Rik just shrugged with a grimace of pain. He would have done the trade just the same that much was obvious to everyone present.
Gust thought his stance was admirable.
The one-eyed young Crow had grown up to be a proper knight and while still a fool, he’d made Gust proud.
An hour later
One could still see the deep red glow, or even bright flames at some spots inside the forest, lighting it up at the distance. Hundreds of torches shed their light near the emergency field ‘hospital’. The mercenaries had sort of fashioned the latter with the use of saddle rags, shields, horse blankets and even plain cloth tossed over small branches to create custom cots. Bigger fires had been lit to warm up the injured and help prepare food for the weary soldiers that had been fighting for hours.
Gust heard the sound of a war-chariot’s scythed wheels approaching and looked over his shoulder. He spotted two young mercenary officers driving it proudly, although they did receive plenty of curses from the cavalrymen that feared for their horses and from their comrades in the infantry that had seen enough of the dangerous machines to last them a while.
“Liko, Ottis,” Sergeant Lu Douc-Re roared getting out of the muddy tent. “Park that god darn thing!”
“It has a built in break Lu, don’t worry about it!” Bert Ottis assured him with a fierce grin, pulling at the long reins to stop the vehicle. “I’ll just pull the lever and it locks the wheels!”
“Do it now, else my fist will lock on your face Ottis!” Lu barked and set his eyes on limping Liko. “How many did you lose kid?”
“The Grunts fought like hell Lu!” Liko growled, then grimaced in pain. “Where is he?”
“I had a carriage take him near the spring, by the boulders,” Lu Douc-Re retorted with a glance at Axel that was examining Gust’s old sword. “East of the road, just behind the camp.”
“Martel?” Gust intervened raspingly as he’d no use of the Gallant Dogs purse officer. “Wyncall?”
“They are both pretty bad,” Lu told him while Liko limped away followed by a now sober Ottis, leaving the chariot behind. “Wyncall’s tongue was severed at the base. The Dottore dug in there to fix what was fixable. The captain spat it out in the chaos and we can’t find it.”
“Can the Dottore stitch it back up?” Axel asked curious.
“Dalai-Tue said he’ll survive without it if the fever drops. Said the same thing to a man wit no legs and to Martin, who died soon after,” Lu retorted sourly. “I can try to wake Martel up Sir Gust.”
“Don’t. I’ll speak with Sir Robert. See how my brother is,” Gust grunted and turned around to head for his horse. Hisan had been freed from all the heavy armour at Gust’s orders, since he wanted to move around faster.
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They arrived at the First Foot’s staging areas ten minutes later. The infantry had secured the battlefield and while it had prepared its own hospital for the wounded at the rear, Robert Van Durren held a war-meeting to discuss the situation out in the open and under torchlight.
“Lord Jorah is pulling back towards Captain Gel De Moss,” his adjutant informed them. “There is infantry a kilometer from the bridge near Desmond Boss’ camps.”
“Numbers?” Robert asked.
“At least a thousand heavy infantry my lord,” the officer, a man from Badum named Flip Velde, replied. His father had squired for Robert’s father in his youth and had gotten a piece of land near Canlita Sea as reward, which opened the way for his son to earn an officer’s spot in the Foot. “We outnumber them.”
“Yeah, but we have a lot of recruits in the 2nd Division,” Robert pursed his mouth. “What about cavalry?”
“Four, five hundred or thereabouts. About a hundred horse with arrows,” Flip reported what he’d learned after speaking with the mercenaries or other surviving officers.
“Cataphracts?”
“Few and far between,” Flip stared at the scowling Gust. “The Crows destroyed those that came from Castalor.”
“These were Putra’s men,” Sir Reuten noticed. “Lord Jorah must have Cataphracts with him. More cavalry in general. Plus we have reports that more have left the capital or were pulled from Dhin-Awal’s command at the Great Lakes.”
“There,” Robert agreed with a forced smile. “Jan is right. Care to give us an insight Sir Koel?” He asked his long-time right hand man. Sir Leonel Koel, Baron Leonard Koel’s of Tigerfall son, shook his short-cut white haired head.
“I find the Prince’s absence concerning my lord.”
Robert snorted. “You know it’s bad, when Sir Leonel, who actually has a darn castle to fall back to, starts calling my arse fancy names in public.” Robert looked at Gust and shivered. “Goodness me Gust, something the matter? I heard Rik is fine. That lad is Unkillable, might even outlive the Old Crow for crying out loud!”
“No one is,” Gust grunted and Robert sighed. “And Ruud won’t depart afore Scaldingport is in safe hands.”
“Right.” Robert said, his eyes telling Gust he disagreed. “What does your instinct say? Or the bird. Haven’t seen it since last night.”
Bugs had flown away to do his own thing.
“No instinct. Simple reason.” Gust grimaced. “The Prince isn’t here. Lord Jorah has enough cavalry to cause us trouble. I’ll order Captain De Moss to retreat to our positions.”
“You’ll doom Desmond,” an uncomfortable Robert argued. “I’m leaning towards espousing his business partner’s lovely daughter and leaving poor Desmond to get eaten by the wolves might be frowned upon in Castalor’s high-society’s circles.”
It’ll be an even worse look if we fumbled the campaign at this point Rob.
“Desmond hanged on for two days,” Gust replied raspingly. “He’ll manage another.”
“Post patrols with a cavalry escort,” Robert ordered Velde and Koel. “And can someone run to the supply wagons to dig out that bottle of cognac from yesterday? Haven’t gotten the measure of Jelin’s spring’s evenings yet without proper assistance.”
Gust grimaced and turned around to head towards his men. He spotted Solt talk with a mid-aged Issir officer, wearing the Foot’s insignia and eating a piece of hardtack softened in a cup of water.
“Who’s he?” Gust asked Sir Reuten who followed after him with Axel ‘Mudriver’ and the knight from Colle sucked at his teeth afore replying.
“Captain Voges, a survivor of the 2nd Foot,” he replied. “He’s looking to purchase a horse.”
“We may be fighting on the morrow,” Gust grunted with a glare at the officer. “Where do you want to go?”
“Hunter’s Cot,” Voges answered. “Heard the Prince might be heading that way.”
Gust stood back with a deep frown. “Where did you hear that?”
“From a dying Horselord,” Voges replied, showing him two rows of fine symmetrical teeth. Gust hadn’t seen such perfect teeth on a soldier afore. Not at Voges’ age.
“Radin is in Hunter’s Cot.” Gust repeated hoarsely.
“Or thereabouts,” Voges elucidated. “Looking for Valk.”
“What is he talking about?” Axel ‘Mudriver’ rustled pursing his mouth and Gust turned to eye Sir Jan Reuten intently. The knight seemed very troubled as well.
“The Valk have property near Hunter’s Path. It is part of the disputed lands with Colle, the Old Crow bequeathed years back to cause problems to the King and Baron Bach,” Sir Jan told Gust, who thought of Loes Valk Elsanne’s former courtier. The Queen had left her behind at Dia Castle after she had escaped to Eikenport. “You don’t think?” Jan queried, himself thinking of the same thing.
“Find the Captain a horse,” Gust ordered Solt with a grunt. “Gather our Crows Jan.”
“What about Rik?” Reuten asked with a grimace.
“Rik will stay this one out. He’s done enough.”
The last thing Rik needed at this point was coming up against Radin with a troubled head.
“Robert might need help.” Jan argued.
“The Horselords couldn’t kill Robert on Eplas,” Gust retorted raspingly and started marching towards Hisan. “Gods know they tried plenty of times. They won’t succeed here.”
-
> Horus Mirpur’s Cataphracts managed to win another cavalry scrap against Sir Rik De Weer’s Crows causing many fatalities, his third or fourth win of that day remarkably, but got caught near the end of the engagement by the ninety men-at-arms led by Sir Gust De Weer and Sir Jan Reuten that had just arrived in the battlefield. Sir Gust hadn’t followed after Sir Koel’s riders (they headed north towards the late Sir Pek’s men to assist) but headed straight for his brother’s banners. It’s impossible to gauge now how many riders Horus had by that point, but it must have been anything between twenty Cataphracts or as high as fifty, depending on other sources and at least seven chariots led by Hortif, one of Maluph Erul-Sol’s lieutenants. (Sermes had been killed earlier in the day)
>
> Whatever the numbers available may have been they just weren’t enough, and Sir Gust won decidedly wiping out Lord Putra’s mobile force that had haunted the Peninsula for months. Horus Mirpur, the legendary Ermin Suru, was killed by the Raven of Dawn after a great struggle… one would be led to believe reading the Khanate’s account of the battle.*
>
> The truth is, this final battle lasted less than five minutes in all likelihood by my estimates. While Sir Gust himself never gave any personal account on what transpired, ever the tight-lipped solemn figure of the war, his brother Sir Rik confirmed that Gust was the one who killed Horus ‘but we arrived too late to save poor Marleen’. For the latter fail, the rather unlucky, though unquestionably capable knight, assumed full responsibility speaking to her father Duke Basten days later.
>
> If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
>
> ‘My lord, I have failed you again,’ the one-eyed Sir Rik had allegedly declared in court and the relieved -for the ending of the ordeal his Duchy had faced- father, had forgivingly replied that ‘in my humble opinion, you saved Castalor my good knight. Praised be the Five, my poor girl is probably dead already.’
>
> But the girl wasn’t dead.
>
> The destitute –having lost all his chariots, after already losing his family and riches back in Eplas- Maluph Erul-Sol escaped on his war-chariot with Lady Marleen Van Oord according to all Khanate sources, driving the vehicle himself through hostile terrain and in the pitch dark. Auspiciously for him, Lord Jorah Dhin-Awal had opened a corridor towards the bridge and during the night hours (3rd to 4th of Tertius) many civilians, engineers and slaves escaped led by the Slaver Cardus. Not everyone made it out. Tibia-Han was discovered still-breathing but with a paralyzed right leg inside the woods. Several other injured were lost (as many as two hundred), from high fever, or bad wounds, but mostly eaten by the local predators like the large brown, forest bears that had awakened from their winter slumber mainly due to Ricard White’s fire-bombing and then went about looking for nutrition in a bad mood, which was nigh unfortunate.
>
> Lord Jorah upon learning of the inconceivable catastrophe considered attacking Robert Van Durren’s First Foot to exact retribution for the loss of Lord Mirpur’s son Horus, but also Mirpur’s other son Vijay, who had been killed on Eplas years prior and of course Kuntur Ki-Tsuparin. It was a huge opportunity to amass favor with some pretty powerful lords for him. ‘Settle the old score with this landless dog once and for all’, Lord Jorah had declared, himself also sort of lacking in lands at the time, since Wetull had taken Dia Castle and Jade Fort from his family. When an envoi was sent from Merchant’s Triage to question the local Zilan official about the matter, the Zilan Hoplite leader (in roughly translated Common) had given the diplomat two hours to get his ‘offensive hindquarters off of Imperial land posthaste, else I’ll have you killed, seasoned for a day and then served for dinner.’
>
> No more diplomatic attempts were made by Lord Jorah after that.
>
> Robert had arrived in the battlefield after first dark and had quickly secured Even Fork, while preparing his men for a march to the Bridge to break out Desmond Boss. The Horselords attack was to be launched as early as the next morning. Lord Jorah ordered Amir-Zeket’s Jang-Lu to disengage, leaving Desmond Boss’ camp to be guarded by lighter troops, but several of the surviving generals (Kontar, Amir-Zeket, and Maluph Erul-Sol) demanded to hear from Prince Radin first.
>
> ‘If the Prince is to strike at Robert’s rear,’ Maluph had suggested bravely, what they all must have been thinking, ‘then we should wait for him to act first and then make our move as well.’
>
> Lord Jorah faced a difficult dilemma, as Lord Putra’s fate was also in question, not to mention the success of their operation as a whole. There was strong belief they could perhaps win against Robert in battle and still clear the road that wasn’t controlled by either party during the tense evening.
>
> Back at Castalor, Lord Putra was surrounded inside the woods east of the city, without supplies and with Xener on his death throes. The Jang-Lu informed the Lukela noble that they were prepared to march in battle the next morning and die in the field. The cornered Putra agreed with his subordinates and donned a metal mask himself to lead the Jang-Lu personally. It was so obvious the Horselord infantry was going to attempt to break out that Sir Walter pulled his to the rear and brought every crossbow and machine available inside the wary city out. He set them up under torchlight just outside the woods, with many civilians helping and didn’t sleep at all.
>
> Early that night or just after sunset, Sir Gust visited Wyncall and Martel’s mercenaries (the latter had almost lost his whole command, suffering catastrophic losses and most of his officers, three quarters of his engineers and master sergeants Super and Willian, including one of the ‘gold pendant’ councilmen of the unit, a Northman named Crafton), as well as late Sir Evert Pek’s men, who he had known well from their days on Eplas.
>
> News of the huge battles fought from Castalor to Even Fork, as far as the bridge at Boar Horn reached the ‘Queen of Veer’s Gulf’, the rebellious princess Elsanne Eikenaar that had just delivered a young boy at a small merchant stop named Pavilion, very near the city of Rusted. The boy had been named Reinut the Second, a scandalous decision, as no noble had dared to take the first High King’s name afore him. Rumors on the father ended, when the Queen announced brazenly that Reinut was Sir Gust’s son, solidifying Duke De Weer’s support at the expense of common decency. The Pirate Queen fearing for the outcome of the battle ordered her Blood Raiders, an unruly group of thugs and pirates she’d brought from Eplas, to march after Robert and Sir Gust at first light.
>
> Just before the morning of the 4th, Captain De Moss managed to reestablish contact with the First Foot taking advantage of Lord Jorah’s forces redeployment. His messengers informed the Issir command of the enemy’s disposition and rough numbers. De Moss also confirmed what was slowly becoming apparent inside Robert’s war council.
>
> This well-expected for months -and despite that turned very-thorny- attack by Prince Radin they were dealing with currently, was underway for sure, but no one had even glimpsed the elusive Prince’s banner anywhere in the field. Radin wasn’t in Castalor, he wasn’t at Even Fork and he hadn’t graced them with an appearance at Boar’s Horn.
>
> So where was he?
-
Ruud de Weer
‘Old Crow’
Vulture of Blackcrow’s Pilar
Ruud smacked his wrinkled mouth a couple of times, moving the warmed up honeyed whiskey in his mouth to numb the hurting gums. The taste was awful but the concoction livened the blood in the winter. Or early spring.
Supposedly. He stared out of the window of his large carriage.
The elderly chamberlain Hubert Boss, offered Sigurd Bach a cup as well while stooped in front of the built-in cupboard.
“It’s too early for such a strong drink,” Bach commented taking the cup.
“Oh, cut the crap Baron,” Ruud grunted, placing his own cup on the small side table. “Hubert was being polite. We know you’re an alcoholic.”
“I’m an ordained priest,” Sigurd snapped unable to control himself.
“So what? Half the priests I know are drunkards,” Ruud fired back. “Or perverts. Don’t stand there and pretend you didn’t give a good rub to yer phallus at the thought of our Queen! In all them years? Get the fuck out of here!”
Sigurd looked like he’d just swallowed a bottle of laudanum and Ruud wondered whether he’d actually hit a nerve there running his mouth. He stared at the bald Baron with suspicious eyes.
“I was being polite your grace,” the old chamberlain yielded to defuse the situation and returned to his seat next to the Baron.
“He’s worried about his nephew you see,” Ruud explained moving on. “Got himself in trouble Desmond has, aye.”
“We should use the opportunity to strike at the Khan beyond the bridge,” Sigurd offered after taking a moment to find his wits, with Hubert shaking his head as the Duke had gotten the relations wrong again.
“Third cousin?” Ruud chanced with a smirk not paying attention to the Baron’s words. “Are ye gonna get a cut of the family fortune if Desmond swallows a spear?” He asked Hubert.
“The kids are ahead of me sire,” Hubert Boss retorted stiffly.
“Hey, don’t turn on me you old cunt,” Ruud griped and blew his nose in a handkerchief. He stared at the disgusting secretion and then folded it. “Damn. Soon as the flowers start blooming, the whole system gets messed up!”
“Duke Ruud,” Sigurd insisted, but Ruud stopped him with a curt gesture.
“You ride another man’s carriage Baron, you respect his habits or continue the trip on the saddle with the palace guards,” he told him. “You left the Queen alone to come to me and now she decided to move the wrong god darn way! Never trust a woman to point you down the right path!”
Sigurd stood back on his leather couch frustrated. “I… can’t control the Queen your grace,” he replied and grimaced when a rider tapped at the door of the moving carriage. The driver brought it to a stop much to Ruud’s ire.
“Hey,” the Duke grunted looking out of the window at the mounted guard. “We are not there yet!”
“Milord, sergeant Fliers ordered the stop!” The guard reported.
“What’s the matter? A case of diarrhea?”
“I don’t know milord.”
Ruud cursed and stared at the discomforted Hubert Boss across from him. “Hubert climb down and see what manner of fresh fuckup we have here!”
“I suggest we wait it out your grace,” the chamberlain retorted, unwilling to make the effort.
Ruud stared at Sigurd. “Baron? You’re a young man. Trot to the front of the procession will you? There’s a good lad,” the Duke added when a grimacing Sigurd Bach stood to get out of the carriage.
“You know what?” Ruud decided with a groan and a small fart that followed a blinking glance at the sky. “I’ll get down there and catch me a bit of sun as well. Hubert keep the door closed in case the raven decides to come in and use the darn carriage as its personal latrine!”
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Ruud didn’t know the young local man. The guy was in his twenties and dressed in a brown tunic, but wore a leather weapon harness over it.
“He claims he’s one Demeter Valk,” Fliers told the approaching Duke. The men and carriages had stopped by the side of the road, but Ruud could spot the Pavilion’s buildings not that far away, right before the junction. All local roads converged there, one leading to Hunter’s Cot to the north and another coming from Tail to the south, while the main road led west towards the distant Even Fork. Ruud stared at the young Issir local thinking that Duke Henk had made his camp there a couple of centuries back and the local warlord Timus Toes had come down from Toefort to attack him.
He thought of the raven’s words and almost missed the young man’s reply to Sigurd’s query.
“Stefan Valk is my father sire,” Demeter had explained respectfully.
“How’s the old hunter?” Ruud asked, remembering his old hunting partner. “I heard he got himself a third wife a while back. That yer mother?”
Ruud couldn’t believe twenty years had gone by like that.
“Aye milords,” Demeter replied. “My father wants word sent to the Duke that Horselords have taken Hunter’s Path.”
“He’s the Duke damn it,” Fliers snapped in frustration and Bugs was heard cackling above them.
“Fliers let him speak,” Ruud grunted.
“He speaks nonsense your grace—”
“I’ll be the bloody judge of that!” Ruud growled angrily raising his voice and all talk stopped about them, the racket of horses and men dying down. The Duke had a mighty voice in him since his youth, but had rarely used it these past decades. “Speak,” Ruud ordered the young Valk scion hoarsely and the pale Demeter, who didn’t anticipate to run upon the Old Crow in the middle of the road told them everything.
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KRAA!
CAW! CAW!
The crows were disturbed by Bugs’ presence near their boxes. The latter didn’t have doors as the birds were coming and going as they pleased, even without carrying messages. Fliers who had gone to order the men to be on high alert returned breathing heavy near the thoughtful Duke, who stood alone on the cobblestone road to watch the light chimney smoke visible over the Pavilion’s hostels and merchant buildings.
“I sent word to Sir Braal at Hunter’s Cot,” Fliers reported. “Talked with Mitch De Jaeger to bring his rangers forward and Mitch told me Hendrik De Jagger is coming down from Tail with about a hundred of his.”
The Jaggers of Tail and Jaegers of Tongue were essentially the same family.
“Best to keep them separate,” Ruud murmured working a crooked index finger in his collar to better fit it under the heavy leather, mail-reinforced armour. “We can’t fight Horselords on the road. We need the streets and the alleys, all them big stone and brick buildings.”
“My lord, we should retreat towards Rusted!” Fliers protested. “The Viscount has been notified as well. He’ll come straight here!”
“Fuck De Moss. As much pride as idiocy runs in their family,” Ruud hissed, a tick appearing on his drooping right eyelid. “Radin might turn west and go after the Queen, hit my boys from the rear,” the Duke glared at the Scaldingport officer austerely. “Or head east and take the Pavilion. My grandson is in those buildings Fliers. I love me younglings.”
“Aye milord,” Fliers grimaced. “I can go ahead with the guard and defend the settlement.”
I don’t trust you not to fuck this up lad.
“It is not enticing enough for the cock-sucking prince,” Ruud said instead, after a small moment of silent consideration. “Elsanne will turn around the moment word reaches her ears that Reinut is in danger. The Gods are ever conspiring to give that slant-eyed cunt unfair advantage for some reason or other. Again and again it has happened, be it in tourneys or in war. You should pay attention to life’s tendencies Fliers. Radin shan’t have any advantage this time. In this part of the realm the Others rule and they’ll do their darn best not to piss old Ruud off!”
Else I’ll turn the Duchy over to Regia, or Anker.
Force the Five down their throat!
“My lord, there are hundreds of Horselords just about to come out of the woods!” Fliers protested and a snarling Ruud slapped him across the face snapping his head back.
The Old Crow’s voice came calm and collected though, with none of the tremor that had plagued his later years.
“Rip the fear out of yer belly and don’t spread it to the men,” Ruud warned the stunned officer. “A horse is useless against a stone wall and you can stop a cavalry charge blocking a street with that wagon. Flatten a helm with a dropped flagstone in them narrows. Fancy armour and tall tales mean naught inside a settlement without lowly infantry and Radin has none available. You heard the lad. He couldn’t bring any, so as to move fast. Each fight is a new chapter to a man’s legend, not yet written. Get Mitch here and we’ll write this Horselord a new one, where he least expects it. I reckon, it’ll be an epilogue.”
Twenty minutes later
Morning, 4th of Tertius
“My Lord Duke,” the eunuch Jasi proclaimed with a dramatic genuflection, all perfumed brightly-colored robes and flickering painted eyelashes. “I saw the commotion, but we weren’t expecting your eminence—”
“Get the blasted cock-tamer out of my way! What manner of bullshit is this?” Ruud grunted, pushing past the scrambling not to get trampled over Eunuch to reach young Reinut’s crib. He stared at the young milk-maid’s enlarged nipples –the eunuch was playing with just a second ago- with an appraising eye and then smiled at the sight of the little wrapped up baby in his purple-dressed crib. “Get the boy and the horny milk-cow out the back,” he ordered his men rigidly. “I want them in my carriage and heading east in ten minutes. Keep the Cofol double-dipping cinaedus out of the cabin and the liquor compartment.”
“Duke Ruud the queen—” the flushed Jasi protested, when Fliers bodied him out of the room, but Ruud cut him off with a curt wave of his hand.
“Radin is half a kilometer away,” he told Jasi and the Cofol former-slave blinked in shock.
“The Prince,” Jasi croaked paling despite all that makeup. “Is… here?”
No, I just came up with it for the chuckles.
“This perfumed motherfucker almost had an orgasm! That’s right, he is. We’ll have reinforcements arriving shortly,” Ruud explained with a grimace of discomfort as he’d ridden hard to enter the settlement and some of his body parts had started protesting early. “Until then, those with balls still attached to their scrotums, will need to make a stand here. It might take a minute, or it might be a while and it will be intense. Do you want to stay and help dear Sazi?”
Jasi blinked, his face dropping. “It’s Jasi, your sagacious lordship, and I’m historically much more useful operating from the rear.”
“I bet you are!” Ruud guffawed.
“Ehm, I should be with the Heir,” Sigurd volunteered and Ruud eyed him like a half-rotting bug, the others bugs avoided. “Katers we’ll stay in my stead.” Sigurd added gulping down nervously.
“I wasn’t going to dismiss your lad Baron, but we need yer expertise also,” he told him frostily.
“I’m not that good with a blade—” the uncomfortable Sigurd protested, but Ruud cut him off again in a gruff manner.
“Now, don’t sell yourself short like this. You are staying. Although, I suggest ye look for a sword.” Ruud retorted, dismissing the argument. “Plus, we might find need for a priest of Oras. Um,” the Duke added with the slyest of smirks, none of those present found amusing at all.
The moment dragged, deeply soaked in uncomfortable silence, until one of the lookouts sergeant Fliers had posted on a terrace bellowed from outside Madan’s ‘Grand Hostel’s’ open front door.
“HORSES!”
“Oras shadow,” Sigurd cursed or prayed pursing his lips and Ruud reached with a shaky gloved hand, grabbed the hilt of his longsword and unsheathed it in a wide arc, almost decapitating the diving for the floor panicked Jasi, wearing a broad thoroughly-decayed smile on his wrinkled mouth.
Here they come, Ruud thought and marched out of the hostel’s hall.
Them sons of bitches.
----------------------------------------
“SONS OF BITCHES!” Bugs roared flying over the arriving Horselords, a group of eight that rode straight through the main street of the settlement, eyeing the local merchants that run to hide in their stores or behind their stands.
Upon seeing the two wagons blocking the main road, one of them raised his arm and brought the small group to a stop. He turned to order his men to push the large supply wagons out of the way and two of them rode near, bringing ropes with them, to investigate whether it was possible or not.
Fliers stepped out of the corner of a warehouse, clad in his guard armour and wearing a conned helm that appeared too large for his head, but it wasn’t. Fliers had just tied the straps too tight which made it difficult for him to speak clearly, while at the same time lowering the rim of the helm to his thick eyebrows.
“Open the road!” One of the Horselords grunted in rough Common at the grimacing sergeant-at-arms. “This land belongs to the Khan!”
“I won’t,” Fliers replied. “And it doesn’t.”
“Dusted?” The Horselord leader of the small group grunted unsure and looked at his men for a better translation.
“It doesn’t!” Fliers repeated sounding strangled, getting a bit red in the face. “Neither the road, nor the wagons.”
“You claim ownership?” The Horselord queried mirthfully.
“The Duke does,” Fliers retorted gruffly and got his sword out of its scabbard without making a fool of himself, under Ruud’s watchful eyes. The Horselord, no fancy mask on him just a helm and a linen headcover under it, pursed his mouth tightly and then raised his arm to signal at the two nearest riders watching the exchange, to attack the lonely sergeant-at-arms.
A javelin hurled from a rooftop to his left, plunged the short distance and smacked the top of his left shoulder, penetrating at least a foot afore coming to a stop. The stunned Horselord toppled from the saddle and De Jaeger’s rangers stood up from their elevated spots, drawn bows and ready javelins in their hands.
The hidden men unleashed everything they had on the cornered group and their horses. Four went down immediately, Fliers stepped forward, after navigating the gap between the parked wagons, to hack a fifth down and the rest turned around to get away.
Two more fell moments later and the diving raven unhorsed the last one with a warlike craw. The screaming Horselord hit the cobblestone hard, stood up as fast as he could sporting a broken arm, but got skewered by a javelin that got him under the right shoulder blade and went back down again. His horse continued to gallop without its rider and Ruud stepped out of the corner as well to watch it get away with thoughtful eyes, under the cries of fear from the locals. They had been caught unawares and now rushed to escape the sudden violence as well, leaving the Duke’s guards and rangers behind.
“De Braal’s bird said he’ll move with the Old Crows out of Hunter Cot,” a young guard informed Ruud, who nodded and then glanced at the young Valk scion.
“How did Radin knew how to avoid Braal’s patrols and find the way?” Ruud asked hoarsely, his sword’s tip touching the cobblestone. “This northern part of the forest was a royal hunting ground.”
“His man claimed they have aunt Loes,” Demeter replied fearfully. “Sir Rinus daughter. Father was forced to show them the path.”
“Seems old Stef betrayed you milord,” a blood-covered Fliers grunted walking near them, while some of his men finished off the Horselords, leaving their corpses in the street.
Ruud pursed his wrinkled mouth and then raised his sword before the sweating Demeter’s face. The sword’s point all but touching the young man’s nose.
“Lad?” The old Duke asked raspingly the shuddering Valk scion and Demeter blurted out in a croaking voice barely standing on his two feet.
“No man or beast betrays the Old Crow,” the young hunter droned the familiar mantra. “Lest the vultures shall feast on their families rotted carcasses.”
CRAW! Bugs agreed jarringly, opening and closing its large black beak in a threatening manner and then plunged it like a dagger on a dead Horselord’s face.
-
> Blackcrow’s Pilar
>
> Summer of 129 NC
>
>
>
> “Midlanor preaches a different story now,” Duke Rik the second, told a seventeen year old Ruud, also the second of his name, in a raspy voice. “Ikete was the biggest city of Kaletha Triarchy, despite what these religious Sessi cunts preach. We had to be flexible to get this land, adapt and be ruthless when it mattered.”
>
> Ruud stared in silence at the large raven watching them from the table, with its glassy eyes reflecting the light of the torches.
>
> “Patient and thick-skinned,” his father continued, a side of his face not moving when he talked, still paralyzed from the recent stroke. “Your uncle will be Duke.”
>
> Ruud nodded, the violent tick marring his face not a sign of a stroke but of deep anger.
>
> “Gust must rule, but it won’t be for long and he has no male heir,” the Duke paused to glance at the Raven as well. “He’ll try to get around it. Um. But he’ll have a daughter. He’s a bitter man, who wants to rule now, but fighting him will weaken us and you don’t want that. The Duchy must stand strong.”
>
> “Trust the Raven’s musings,” Ruud grunted, trying to keep his anger in check. “So I get to rule for less time, for the good of the fucking realm?”
>
> “You’ll rule for as long as you have to. In whatever manner you fancy,” Duke Rik, the second, said. “For you will have the Others blessings and you’ll leave the Duchy to the one the Others declare capable. When it’s time, you’ll know.”
>
> Ruud stared at the Raven’s black beady eyes and the large bird clacked its beak sharply in warning.
>
> “What if I don’t?” He asked and the bird shook its black head right and left.
>
> “The one the Raven speaks, the Raven picks to sit the throne and he’ll strive to protect these lands against all enemies, foreign and domestic. All other gods. This was the covenant son and we’ll have to honor it.”
>
> “Fuck Henk’s deal,” Ruud snapped and stood up. “Henk is long dead and your brother might have me killed on the morrow. I ain’t waiting around to get butchered.”
>
> “Sit down!” The Raven roared angrily, and flapped its wings while walking awkwardly on the table. “Shit for brains!”
>
> “What’s the name?” Ruud grunted not backing down.
>
> “Alistair,” the pissed off Raven retorted.
>
> “Hah. I ain’t giving any kid I might have a Lorian name!” Ruud blasted the somber-looking bird. “Are you serious? Forget about it!”
>
> “Ruud,” the Duke intervened. “It must be this way.”
>
> “Nah, it doesn’t.” Ruud groaned in frustration and returned the Raven’s glare. “I want more.”
>
> “You’ll get the Duchy.” The sick Duke grunted trying not to lose his patience.
>
> “I slit uncle Gust’s throat tonight and I’ll be the next Duke by morrow,” Ruud snapped pursing his mouth.
>
> “We don’t harm our own!”
>
> “Oh, get off your high horse!” Ruud growled and his father made to stand up furious at the insult. “We have this talk for that very possibility!”
>
> “Lord Gust’s reign will be short,” the Duke insisted through his teeth.
>
> “No deal.”
>
> “An heir on the Wyvern’s Throne,” the Raven said and Ruud sucked at his teeth thoughtfully.
>
> “You’re making this up bird,” he finally said. “A boy follows his father’s lead. No kid raised in Issir’s Eagle would ever call himself a Crow. And what king leaves a boy to be raised by its mother?”
>
> “A king wouldn’t,” the bird agreed blinking its eyes.
>
> “Right.”
>
> “A path exists,” the Raven insisted. “But it needs some working and a bit of good fortune.”
>
> “How about commitment?” Ruud countered. “You do that for me and I’ll consider whether to honor Henk’s deal.”
>
> “You are not that important,” the Raven snapped and jumped from the table to land near the lanky man.
>
> “Right now, I’m the best chance you have, or good fucking luck grooming one of uncle Gust’s girls,” Ruud deadpanned with a sly toothy grin.
>
>
-
A much older Ruud approached the feasting on the ravaged Horselord’s face bird and stood next to it. He placed the sword upside down and rested both his hands on the engraved pommel. For a while he listened to the bird chewing on the gory flesh, his eyes on the guards preparing the buildings for the Horselords response. Beyond the main street and just outside the last of the buildings where the Queen’s men had camped, Ruud could see the Khan’s riders amassing. Different groups heading back and forth atop their horses.
“Were there Horselords in your visions?” He asked Bugs and the large Raven stopped chewing, part of a human nose with skin attached to it, dropping on the gore-covered cobblestone. The bird blinked once and then gulped down audibly. “No Horselords eh?” Ruud probed crooking his mouth. “Motherfucker, did you make all that shit up?”
“You still rule,” Bugs retorted and jumped about to find another less-eaten corpse, scaring away some noisy crows that had the same idea as him.
“That’s not an answer you oversized, feathered cunt!” Ruud grunted irate, a veiny eye half-closed as the sun reflected on shields and weapons blindingly.
“This is a standoff,” Bugs said with a vexed croak. “To glimpse at the outcome, is to change it.”
“If you think I’m going to just accept defeat you’re out of your god darn mind!” Ruud fired back and straightened his back with a loud groan, when several bones snapped in place. “I’m gonna fuck everyone up afore I croak, mark my fucking words!” He warned the scowling bird and turned around to order the men to board all the windows facing the main street.