“Your thoughts?” Aldric offered as the Seventh Seal, bloated to eleven hundred soldiers, swarmed the gap between Landeck and the pass that led into Nauders.
“We’re crawling when we should be strutting.” Daveth complained. “The Seventh Seal is known for its speed.”
Aldric puffed on his pipe and imagined he could see an elven magewoman watching the Seventh Seal push its way against Landeck. Surely the giant knew it was his. Surely he wondered why she wasn’t crawling in his tent every night anymore.
But a gentleman never asked those sorts of questions. A captain never asked those sorts of questions. It wasn’t like he himself hadn’t left a trail of fatherless bastards behind him, either. Aldric was a man that kept a lot of secrets.
“We’ve got some time before we pass through Landeck and into Nauders. If you’re up to it, you can have them running drills.” Aldric offered.
Daveth tilted his head. “What do you know of them?” He asked.
Aldric followed the man’s gaze. The former Shrouded Knights had set up several tents and were sparring with each other.
“Nothing.” Aldric replied. “Whispers.”
“Whispers are something, you dumb shit. Tell me what you know.”
The knights carried various weapons on a cart; lances, halberds, and claymores. Each of them had a sidesword, and strangely, each of them carried a forge hammer in the same way Steelhammer did.
Aldric watched their training, which was surprisingly savage and brutal and relentless up until one or both of the combatants put their hand on their hammer, which hung in a loop at their side. The fight would stop, and the two would move off to the side.
“They wear full armor because they’ve got some deformities. Scarring and the like. Another rumor is that they’re all women. Nobody knows for sure, because they always recover their dead, and they never take off their helmets for anyone, except maybe each other.”
“They’re Seventh Seal, now. You could tell them to take off their helmets.” Daveth rubbed his chin. “How do they even see with their helmets all hooded up like that?”
Aldric snorted. “It’s a secret. Their secret. I’m a great keeper of secrets, Daveth. I even know some of yours.”
Daveth made a casually obscene gesture at him.
“Hey, if you want to know, go ask them yourself.” Aldric volunteered. “I don’t think they’ll tell you, but you can try.”
Daveth flipped him another obscene gesture, but nodded. “I think I will.”
*****
“You fight well.” Daveth called as he arrived on horseback. All of the Shrouded Knights scrambled to their feet and formed into ranks. Daveth raised an eyebrow and adjusted the bracer on his wrist that Teryl had given him.
“Forgive me... which of you is Veronika?” Daveth asked, and one of the knights stepped forward.
“You can tell us apart from the sigils on our sleeves, sir.” She pointed to a complicated green marking on her left sleeve. He noticed that each of them had a similar mark on their left sleeves.
“Is that your name? Your rank?” He asked curiously. He was rewarded with silence at that, so he swung down from his horse.
He eyed the knights standing rigidly at attention, and waved his hand. “This isn’t an inspection. At ease.”
They immediately broke up into small groups and began packing away their equipment onto the cart they’d reserved for their weaponry.
“I don’t know much about the Shrouded Knights. Tell me of your service record.”
“We mostly operate and recruit out of Ardeal and Urdistan.” Veronika replied curtly. “Our primary clients are Ardeal, Urdistan, Montesilvano, and Blackwall. Occasionally we challenge the Hell Stair.”
“I’ve been to the Black Plateau.” Daveth muttered. “That is no easy challenge by any description.”
“Sir.” She replied simply.
One of the knights collapsed as if poleaxed and blood ran from the gap in the helmet and the neck seam in a gaudy splash. Several of the other knights moved to help the fallen, and Daveth moved as well.
Veronika intercepted him. “It’s nothing, sir.”
“That doesn’t look like nothing.” Daveth disagreed, and picked the knight up and set her aside.
“Don’t!” Another knight stepped in the way. “Adelina is fine. It’s just the curse of blood.”
He turned to Veronika. “Are all of you women?” He asked curiously.
“Sir.” She replied neutrally.
The other knights were helping Adelina to stand. Her gorget and breastplate were drenched in blood, as if her throat had been sliced.
“Curse of blood.” Daveth muttered. “I’ve heard that before, I’m sure of it.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully as he struggled to remember. “Ah. Altus. Altus lon Pavlenko. He talked about having a curse of blood. He could call fire out of the sky.”
Veronika twitched.
“If you know that much about blood curses, then it should do no harm to tell you of ours... with the understanding that it must be kept in the strictest of confidence.”
“I’m turning into Aldric.” He muttered to himself in his mother’s language. He switched tongues and swore he would not reveal the secrets of the Shrouded Knights for the rest of his days.
He was led into a tent, and the Knight known as Veronika pushed back her cloak and removed her helm. He was familiar with albinos. He’d even slept with one. Their skin was pale like milk, the veins that lurked beneath the skin giving them a mild bluish tint. Their hair was the colorless white of newfallen snow. All of this ran through his head in a split second, but it was completely wrong with Veronika.
Her hair was the color of old bone, and spilled down her armor like a river. Her skin was an unhealthy slug-belly white, but her eyes were bold green emeralds. Some disfigurement, a scar perhaps, ran up her neck and covered part of her face.
“This is the curse of blood that all the Shrouded Knights face.” Veronika explained, her gravelly voice grating. “Ours is from the Saint Evangeline, whose heart burst from the pain of betrayal.” She unlatched her breastplate and set it aside, and undid the clasps that held her mail shit together, then shed the simple cotton overcoat that protected her skin against the mail. The scar tissue he’d assumed was from a war wound started at her chest, above where her heart would be, and spread to her shoulder, and up her neck.
“I myself don’t have much time left.” She whispered, hand moving to touch the scar tissue. “I’m an unlucky one. If the scar goes down into your guts you tend to live longer. In a short amount of time I will go blind and as the blood curse works its way into my brain I will go insane and finally die.”
She eyed Daveth carefully. “Do you understand? We are the accursed. Saint Evangeline’s blood cries out for a vengeance that can’t be sated. She’s at least six or seven hundred years dead.”
“I take it that... you didn’t always look like this.” He forwarded, and she nodded. “It starts after our first menses. Our hair loses its color, our skin loses its color, our eyes turn green, the scars start showing up... and then we die.” She paused, and added, “There are other things, but you don’t need to worry about those.”
Daveth rubbed his chin as she redressed, and reattached her breastplate.
“Altus... said that it was passed through bloodlines.”
“That’s right.” Veronica replied. “There are certain powers that are inherited. Magic isn’t one of them, but magic isn’t the only power in this world.”
Daveth gestured at his pipe and looked to her for permission. She nodded, so he packed his pipe full and lit it.
“If you’re all cursed to die, how has the curse survived so long?” He asked her. “Wouldn’t the bloodline die out?”
Veronika laughed coarsely. “We’re cursed, not sterile. Or abstinent. And there are plenty of men willing to sleep with a woman if the lights are turned down low and he’s been given plenty to drink. I think... I have two years or so before my sight goes. Maybe a year before my mind goes, maybe half a year after that and I’ll be dead. I can have at least two children before that happens.”
He frowned. “It doesn’t bother you that they’ll be cursed?”
She shook her head. “The sorority will see to them. They’ll learn of me from the Book of Prayers, and the beating of their own heart.” She eyed Daveth speculatively. “What do you say, big boy? I don’t think I look too bad, myself.”
Daveth pushed himself to his feet and grinned around the pipe between his teeth. “Pregnant women don’t belong on the battlefield.” He replied. “That’s a Seventh Seal rule. Ask me again when you’re ready to retire.”
She chuckled.
“By now the rumor mill is churning.” Daveth explained. “and everyone wants to know something about the Shrouded Knights. They know I’ve been cloistered with you for a while. I know something- more than I expected, really- but I’m sworn to silence until my dying day. Give me something I can tell them. “How do you see out of your helmets? Why the need for the robes? What’s with the smithing hammers?”
She chuckled again. “All of those are secrets, big boy.” She replaced the helmet on her head, and made shooing motions at the giant.
She closed her eyes, took a pained breath, and listened to her heartbeat. There were voices in those heartbeats. Whispers of encouragement, advice, warnings, anger, frustration, regret, joy, and over and above them all was the voice crying for revenge against the empire that had abandoned her. The voices of her mother and sisters were there, too.
She took another pained breath. One of the first things the curse attacked was the heart and lungs. The Shrouded Knights developed a fighting style that made allowances for that. Adelina had pushed herself too hard and her lungs had bled. The curse would dig itself into her lungs even further.
*****
Aldric gave Daveth a look. “Well? Learn anything?”
The giant shrugged. “Yeah. That I should keep my mouth shut.” He replied. Aldric laughed nastily at that.
The captain pointed. “Look. The people of Landeck have sent a messenger. Remember the last time we were here?”
Daveth chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Let’s fuckin’ do it.” Aldric swung into his saddle, shouting for Morden.
Daveth choked on his laughter and swung into the saddle himself. It wasn’t all fun and games, but it did have its moments.
The messenger approached the small grouping of Aldric, Daveth, Malacath, Alyisa, Lynnabel, and Morden.
The massive army of the Seventh Seal, followed by its Tross fell in by predetermined ranks and positioning behind them. It had taken some time for the new blood to acclimate to the Seventh Seal’s need for speed, but they were learning. Hopefully they’d learn fast enough to live.
The messenger stopped well away from them, out of bowshot range. Daveth and Aldric exchanged glances. This wasn’t going to be as easy as last time.
“I daresay they think themselves witty, sister.” Alysia remarked acidly.
“Hush, sister. I want to see what happens.” Lynnabel urged, a smile on her face. When the other bands had signed up, several of them counted Wolf Sisters among their ranks. There had been a great and fantastic brawl to determine the perceived rank and position of the newcomers, and the two silvers had demonstrated their position as senior sisters with great satisfaction.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The messenger mumbled something out of earshot, bowed, and turned to leave.
“Morden, fuckin’ get him and bring him here. I’m old and these ears of mine couldn’t hear him well.” Aldric waved. Morden nodded and gigged his horse. The messenger spotted the positively villainous form of Morden bearing down on him and tried to run, but Morden easily outpaced him and cut him off.
“Come on, boy. You’re not doing your job properly. Head on over there and tell Captain Aldric your messages. Time’s wasting and there’s killing to be done.” Morden urged the messenger boy.
“I heard about you. You like to beat messengers.” the boy sulked. “The last time you were here, you stripped the man naked and sent him running back to the city in the cold!”
“That’s not the way of it at all.” Morden chided gently. He pointed to Aldric and Daveth. “Those are just stories made to scare people. Go on, now.”
The messenger was a strapping lad perhaps a couple of years away from adulthood. He had the kind of face that made him try and cultivate a beard to try and appear as adult as possible, with little success. Instead, he looked like a baby-faced boy with a badly grown beard.
He allowed himself to be herded towards Aldric, Daveth, and Malacath. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw the ears on Malacath. “Is that an elf?” He asked with unfeigned curiosity.
“Sure is. Came all the way from across the world to fight with us. He can make his sword ten feet long with magic.” Morden buttered up the kid who was practically wall-eyed with wonder.
“Is it true that elves eat babies?” The messenger asked. Morden laughed.
“That’s just a story, innit?”
The boy shrugged. “I just heard all my life that they did.”
“Nahhh. Malacath’s a good sort. In fact, he’s got a soft spot for kids. Likes to protect them, in fact. Wouldn’t hurt a hair on their heads. Here’s the captain, now. Keep your back straight and give your message to him proper.”
The kid eyed the captain with some trepidation. Captain Aldric had a reputation as being brutal and cold-blooded. His utter ruthlessness was the only thing that kept the berserker giant, Daveth in check, who was rumored to have torn a man in half with his bare hands.
The two silver-haired women were said to have eaten wolves to take on their strength and power. The Seventh Seal was an army of monsters, and the man that led them all was the worst of them all.
“You have messages, boy?” the captain called out as Morden and the kid approached.
“Yessir, I do.” He announced in a voice that cracked. He looked ashamed.
“Keep your back straight, kid. You’re doing fine.” Morden encouraged the lad from the back of his horse.
“Th- The Duke of Landeck sends his warmest regards to the S-s-seventh Seal, and wishes to know how long you think it will take to move through the city and into the pass.”
“Barring foul luck, shouldn’t take more than a day’s worth of sunlight.” Aldric replied. “Will my quartermaster be allowed in the city for trade?”
The boy nodded. Morden spoke up in a low voice behind the kid. “The captain can’t hear a nod, boy. Do your job right and proper.”
“Yes! Trade is fine!” The kid shouted.
Aldric traded glances with Daveth and Malacath.
“Well he’s no fun at all.” Aldric muttered under his breath. To the messenger, he offered his thanks for the Duke’s message and hospitality, and turned his back on the messenger and began talking to his commanders.
“We’ll move the Seal through first, have the Tross hang back a bit so we get through smoothly. We’ll have the Tross begin trade after we’re through the pass.”
Morden called to the kid. “Hey, boy.”
The kid looked up at the villainous-looking man.
“You did good.” He reached into his belt and passed him a small pouch of coin and shifted his horse so he had a clear shot at the city.
Morden approached the captain and commanders. “I swear he was about to brown his trousers.”
Aldric grinned nastily. “Well, we didn’t get to have fun, but it brings a smile to my face anyway. Let’s get up on there. Daylight’s wasting.”
Malacath leaned towards Daveth. “I miss something?” He asked, and Daveth chuckled.
“Last time we were here, the messenger was an arrogant cunt, so we flogged him for his insolence. Peeled off his clothes right about over there, in sight of the city walls.”
“You flogged a messenger and sent him back naked?” Malacath asked incredulously.
“Well, you can’t have assholes treat you with disrespect, can you?” Daveth asked as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He blinked, and added, “Oh, and he wasn’t naked. We gave him his coat back.”
Malacath gave him such a bewildered look that Daveth burst out laughing. To the assembled soldiers it was strange, like seeing a rock laugh.
*****
They made it through the pass and into the Nauders duchy with no problems, despite the swollen ranks of the Seventh Seal.
“Okay, so now will you tell me what Daveth did?” Malacath asked Aldric.
“I dunno. Daveth, do you want me spilling all your filthy secrets?” Aldric asked Daveth curiously.
Daveth sighed and looked over at the elven commander.
“I got drunk and went on a drunken rampage through yonder castle.” Daveth replied wearily, gesturing at the capital city of the Nauders duchy.
“That’s not all you did, is it?” Malacath asked.
“That’s not all he did.” Aldric replied knowingly.
Daveth rolled his eyes. “I broke some really expensive things. Things like glass and mirrors.”
“And the maidenhead of the Duchess.” Aldric added with a frown.
“Aldric, fuck you.” Daveth retorted hotly.
Aldric tamped his pipe with his thumb. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re free to sleep with anyone you like, Mal, but the one thing you don’t do is get involved with a client. It’s a professional arrangement. We’re here to do a job, they are our clients, they’re there to pay us. Sleeping with them breaks professionalism. Sleep with whomever you want, just not the client.”
“I am married, you know.” Malacath replied drily. “Also, don’t call me Mal.”
“Last I heard, you were married to a tree. Horrible, but true. You might want to consider having more children. Leave behind your legacy, and all that.” Aldric replied, and Malacath glared at Aldric hotly.
“The Duchess was young, impressionable, and also had quite a crush on Daveth. I warned him not to get involved with her, but he went and did it anyway.”
Daveth sighed heavily. “I was very drunk, Aldric. I even-” He cut off and pivoted in the saddle on his horse and looked at Alysia.
She nodded at him.
“Fucking-” He bagan, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “By the dead gods...”
“That wasn’t all he did, though.” Aldric continued. “That was arguably forgivable. But the previous Duchess wanted his head. I was able to talk her down into spending the winter in prison.”
“Now Aldric is going to say I had a palace for a prison cell, which is flat patent bullshit. It was a normal cell, but I was given a carpet, several blankets, and a pillow. I don’t think of that as a bad thing. Winters here are cold enough to crack your bones and freeze the marrow.”
“The gifts were from the duchess- who, surprise, surprise, turned up pregnant when we left.”
Daveth shot Aldric a glance. “What? I never heard of this.”
“Oh yes. This pissed off the Lady Sybella enough that she put a warrant out for you. A thousand gold crowns.”
“Then... why the fuck am I here? I happen to like my head, Aldric. I’m pretty attached to it. I’d hate to see it go rolling.”
“Me too. See, after the Duchess turned up pregnant, my contact here in Nauders was unceremoniously tossed out and told to leave the duchy and never return. So why are they asking for us specifically? Why the urgency?”
“Hopefully it’s for a job and not my head.”
“I kind of want to give them your head. I also don’t, because we need you. It’s a coin toss.” Aldric replied comfortably. “This is the one time and the one place that you seriously pissed me off, Daveth. You very nearly killed us all.”
“I think I should stay with the troops. Oversee the disposition.” Daveth muttered.
“I see you’re not just known for your rages. You also seem to have a ... affinity for trouble, as well.” Malacath observed.
“Button it, Mal.” Daveth shot back.
“No, we’re heading into the palace. The file leaders, with Morden in nominal command, will take care of troop disposition while we’re inside.”
“This is the worst idea imaginable.” Daveth groaned.
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Aldric grinned.
Daveth shivered, and then rummaged around in his saddlebags and pulled out a monstrous cape lined with bear.
Morden came up at Aldric’s signal, who pulled out a map and made various notations on it and handed it over to Morden, who fell back into formation.
“I’m going to negotiate several things: First, We keep Daveth alive. Second, whatever it is that they want from us, we get a waiting period. I want the new, oversized Seventh Seal running drills. It used to be that we were known for our speed, and our flexibility in formation calls. I want to keep that going with the Seventh Seal that we have now. We have a number of former mercenary companies that might still have it in their heads that they’re running the show. We’re going to drill them, and drill them hard to show them that they’re not. I want the code upheld, I want punishments swift, public, painful, and humiliating. Nothing is to be forgiven or glossed over. No favoritism, either.” Aldric warned, and Daveth and Malacath nodded. “It’ll take us two days to get to the capital. They already know we’re coming, I’ll bet.”
*****
Once camp was set up for the night, Daveth went to meet Alysia.
“We need to talk.” He began, and she looked up at him coolly.
“I am willing to have this conversation, but not under these circumstances.” She replied crisply.
Daveth frowned at her, but she gestured. “We will have the conversation in your tent.”
Daveth began to wonder if the Lady Sybella would have to get in line if she wanted his head on a platter, but he followed Alysia to his tent, where she waited patiently for him to invite her inside. She frowned at the smell.
“Couldn't you wash your things?” She complained. “They have an odor to them.”
He shrugged. She gave him a moment, but shook her head. “Very well.”
Daveth gave her a careful, scrutinizing look. “You’re not going to stick a sword in my ribs, are you?”
She eyed him carefully. “Do you think I should?” She asked honestly.
“You’ve been treating me like you’ve wanted to for years now.” He replied, and she let out a sigh of exasperation.
“It seems that no matter what you’re taught, you don’t take the meaning very well.” She complained. She unbuckled her sword belt and handed over the sheathed blade. “Do you feel safer now?” She asked.
He held her sword in his massive hands. The Seventh Seal had travelled through many lands, fought against all sorts of monsters, man, magical, and beast. The men and women of the Seventh Seal had changed, their equipment had changed, but her sword was the same as when she’d signed up, and he said as much.
“Your sword hasn’t changed since the day you and your sister signed up.” He observed. The sword was unremarkable and unadorned, exactly like every other sword that the Sisters of the Wolf used. Somehow three times heavier than a normal sword of the same size.
He handed the blade back to her, and after a moment of consideration, she buckled it back on again.
“I’ve wondered how we might have this conversation over the years that we have served together.” Alysia began, and there was uncertainty in her voice. “You’ve given me years to try and decide what needs to be said, what should be said, and what...” She trailed off, and shook her head. “I think I should begin with ... yes, two questions.” She decided.
Daveth nodded, and gestured towards her. “Go ahead.”
“Do you remember that might?” She asked.
“I do, now.” He replied. “I was unbelievably drunk that night, and-”
She cut him off.
“Do you want me?” She asked him, and he blinked a few times. After a moment of strained silence, she rolled her eyes.
“For me, I decided that I wanted you for myself in the burning pits beneath Ankar Set.” She explained, and undid the belt that held her sword again, and set it against the edge of his foldable desk. “I kept trying to talk to you, but that elf-” She stopped, and made her say the woman’s name. “But Audra kept interfering. She thought it was a great game, and ... I wanted to hit her.” She paused. “But then you came to me. I was ready to accept you, then.”
Daveth opened his mouth, but it seemed like Alysia had more to say.
“I did not think well of humans and their... incomprehensible need for drink.” She paused. “After Philippa, I understand why it’s forbidden to us. For you, the intoxication is pleasant. For us... it makes us weak. The Beast is in our blood, and it hungers for release. Our whole lives are discipline to give us the strength to keep it subdued so that we can draw upon its strength safely.” She paused. “Intoxication makes us weak to its call, and we can easily Frenzy to the point of death.”
“You showed us your own Frenzy in the deserts of Bel-Arib.” She paused again. “Forgive me if this comes out wrong. I am not good with words, not like Lynnabel.”
She looked up at him. “Over and over and over again, we’ve fought against you. You’ve always held back. It was vexing and patronizing. I told you before, right? We are strength, honor, and discipline. That’s the whole of what we are. You belittled us by not showing us your true strength when we fought. But you taught us why.”
She paced a little in his tent.
“We had a victory, here. We uncovered a plot and delivered justice to the dishonorable. The ... soldiers celebrated.” She looked up at him, and then looked away.
“You were very drunk.”
Daveth nodded at that.
“I decided that I wanted you for myself, and just like that, you showed up.” She smiled a little. “You showed me your true strength.”
“I don’t remember-” He began, but she held up her hand. “You picked me up and pushed me against the tree and told me how much you wanted me.” her face was red, and sweaty. Nerves?
“You were drunk, but you had proven yourself to me. I was ready to accept you.”
“Then why did you wait all this time?” He asked.
“I wanted you to remember that night- I wanted you to remember the moment that you wanted me so that I could tell you that I wanted you, too.” She paused for a moment.
“So now you remember, and now I get to ask you the question I have wanted to ask you all these years, Lord Comm- Daveth.” It was an obvious shift in the way she addressed him.
He recalled that there were very few times that she had addressed him by name. Once, when she was intoxicated by that drug the Baron used, the night she tried to force herself on him. Once, when Audra died. Once when he was ready to follow Audra into the Void.
“Do you want me?” She asked him again.