Vedek

Vedek kept the cart as near the entrance as he was allowed. There were many carts like his crowding the walls. Employees of the merchants set up small gathering areas for games of dice and co-mingling. They fraternized with members of other companies, showing no loyalty when the master wasn’t around. You’d never see such a thing in Fae’Riam. Loyalty was valued in every facet of Fae life. The Fae live long lives, and have long memories. Betrayal could be remembered forever.

There was one company that did not seem to belong to traders. They were uniformed, and armed. They could not be city guards, those wore orange. This group’s colors were white with light blue accents, but it was their symbol that held attention. A hand with a bleeding cut across the palm. The other travelers gave their pavilion a wide berth. Perhaps they were a mercenary company.

“Looking to join?”

Vedek jumped. A human male had strode beside his cart. The man’s mustache accented his smile. He wasn’t an Athshin native. His dark curly hair put his lineage in Shish. That was all the way on the Eastern Continent. One of the vassal kingdoms to Greyholm. The man wore the same armor as the mystery soldiers Vedek had been watching. No weapon, but he did carry a stack of papers.

“Sorry. I saw you looking at us and, well...we could use an elden’s influence.” The man nodded towards the pavilion. “Forgive my forwardness. I am Rodd Shawa. Son of Leonard and Wilma Shawa.”

The man bowed once to his left and once to his right.

“You’re a long way from your homeland.” Vedek felt himself being won over by the fellow’s welcoming nature.

“I am. As are you.”

That familiar shock ran up Vedek’s spine. That feeling that someone was probing for his true identity. He had to suppress it.

“You know who they are?” Rodd pointed to his fellows in blue and white.

Vedek shook his head. If this was a known faction, then their fame had yet to reach Fae’Riam.

“The Order of Suffering. We follow Ghetsis Reballo, former lord of Finis and hero of the Teotl Reclamation. His mission is to unite Athshin under a banner of justice and order.”

“And how far will his domain stretch?” Vedek knew about the Teotl Reclamation, a short violent war from the decade prior where teotl mages captured the Dune Seas and attempted the same on the Middle Confederacy.

“As far as it needs to. We have already brought peace to Finis in the west, now we probe the Middle Confederacy. Past that will be the difficult task of the Dune Seas and the Nahual Jungle, but it will be done. This is just a small chapter of the Order. I imagine we can be found in most Confederacy cities now. Most lords support our cause willingly, which is not an easy task in Athshin. We’re a force of nobility, you see.”

“It sounds too good to be true.” Vedek looked wistfully to the white and blue soldiers.

Rodd laughed. It was genuine and infectious like Cole’s. “That’s what I thought. That was before they helped me avenge my betrothed from the kind of cruel people that take advantage of this land. Now I owe them my life and my sabre. Here.” Rodd passed Vedek one of his leaflets. Most of it was taken up by a map centered on Ramuf. The message was written in Common, Dustspeak, Dwarvern, and New Quetzal.

“We’re enlisting outsiders to help chase out the lizardkin tribe to the north. They are a violent breed and attack without provocation. If you’ve been in Ramuf long I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. Sixty silver for each warrior that assists us, as well as opportunity to join the Order itself. The attack will occur in three days time. If you, or anyone you know is able to help us in this peacekeeping, then please bring them to our camp.”

Vedek scanned the document and nodded slowly. Rodd gave a final smile.Vedek had been worried that the man would not have left until he received a verbal agreement, but Rodd hadn’t even asked Vedek’s name before departing. He traversed the field of merchant camps, distributing leaflets to any that would take them.

An hour passed before any of Vedek’s companions returned. It was Cole, the halfling boy. He dropped a heavy pack of supplies into the cart.

“Where are the other two?”

Cole reclined against the cart, fanning himself. “Water. They’re getting water. There’s a communal well.”

“We had the funds for so much?” Vedek marveled as he parsed the pack’s contents.

“Not quite. Azeroth found us a quick way to earn money.”

“Interesting. I may have as well. Have you heard of the Order of Suffering?”

Cole shook his head. He clued in that Vedek was talking about the blue and white pavilion. Rodd was speaking to an imposing imperial coatlmade that was praising him for the quality of the leaflets.

“Another adventuring company? Are they like the Lion’s Claw?” Cole sounded hopeful.

“You didn’t encounter Rerume, did you? He’s a native. Perhaps he can tell us if this order is as noble as they advertise.”

“I can watch the cart if you like. Go find Rerume. You must be tired of sitting.”

Vedek cast a final glance at the Order’s pavilion. Rodd had finished telling a joke that drew much laughter from his companions. They reminded Vedek of the warm folk found in Ranger Lodges.

“I’ll do that.” Vedek decided.

“Oh! Take this before you go.” Cole handed him a vaquero hat. It was a common piece of Athshin clothing, mainly for it’s wide brim that kept the sun off the face. Vedek accepted the gift graciously, admiring the firmness of the make. He paused when he saw there was a second part to Cole’s gift: a purple piece of square cloth decorated with a radial sun. Cole didn’t call attention to what it was meant to be, but Vedek understood its purpose. A new bandanna for his face.

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Despite this gesture, Vedek still didn’t have the courage to show Cole his face. Instead, he waited until he was well along the trail of vulture markers to equip the new mask. The trail led him the length of the wall and behind the city. A small plaza of stone sat in the shadow of the city keep. On this platform was erected another pavilion. This one was crafted from dark canvas, animal bones, and vulture feathers. It was a far cry from the temples for Lady Bluejay in Fae’Riam which were grand mausoleums. When Vedek approached the structure he heard shouting in New Quetzal.

“-Do we perform rites for beasts? We already make exceptions in who we tend. Those in question don’t even recognize the Vulture Mother’s authority.”

“And yet her birds still feast on their corpses. It is not our place to decide who...who has a soul!”

When he was young, Vedek eavesdropped on many councils. Political decisions debated in round rooms. Not all of them involved the royal family, as the Electrum Palace was a great venue for these decisions. Once he was older Vedek was allowed a seat at any council that occurred in the palace through sheer royal right. He often chose those involving the Archranger and his peers.

From the tone, Vedek knew that this meeting of clergy had been dragging and was shifting to heated words. He didn’t try to peek in, as that could disturb the debate. His ears did perk when he heard a familiar name said. It was spoken by an older voice, likely the arbiter of the meeting.

“Rerume. You have been listening closely and not said a word. I gave you invitation because of your unique experience. Would you perform the Signaling Rite for the cultists that destroyed your sect?”

The pavilion had fallen silent. Though he couldn’t see it, Vedek knew all eyes were on Rerume.

“The followers of Kurtzkith were long dead when I finally caught up with them. They were enemies of the Vulture Mother that sold their afterlife to a Muspellr. Even if I were inclined to perform it, the Signaling Rite would be meaningless. Master Pedro speaks true: it should be reserved for those that give the Vulture Mother divinity.”

“And what of the faithful that the Order puts themselves in conflict with?” The older voice asked.

“If they are an enemy of the Order then they are likely on the path to punishment. The Rite ushers them to that fate faster.” Rerume spoke cold and exact, never pausing to think of what to say.

“A strong statement from the only Avenger present. Ruminate on it as I adjourn this gathering. The second council will gather tomorrow at first light.”

Vedek took a casual position as the clergy left the tent. He could not place any of their faces to the voices he heard. They were too wrapped in their own contemplations to notice him. Rerume was the last to leave. He was quite surprised to find Vedek there.

“You followed me?” Rerume’s snake eyes narrowed thinner.

“I only arrived in the final moments. I wanted your opinion.” Vedek spoke calmly and honestly. Rerume struck him as the kind of man that valued honest conversation.

“So did many, it seems.” Rerume exhaled. He relaxed his tension after a glance back to the temple entrance.

Vedek produced the leaflet Rodd had given him.

Rerume read it quickly. “The Order of Suffering? They were the very topic of our meeting.”

“What do you know of them?” Vedek asked. He was concerned that the tone of the meeting was so heated given the apparent nobility of the subject.

The pair started a slow return to the cart. “They act with honor rarely seen in Athshin. I only heard hearsay in the Dune Seas, and their presence in the Confederacy is scarce at the moment, but they are increasing their efforts to rally allies.”

“Allies like your church.”

“Yes. They want us to give their cause...legitimacy. Weak hearts believe the Order’s honor borders on zealotry, others think they are what is needed for this land. Today’s gathering was to decide which we believed.”

“And what makes them honorable?” Vedek probed.

Rerume stopped. He looked Vedek hard in the eyes. "They show zero tolerance for the wicked. No more living in fear of the criminal, the raider, or the cultist. It is an ideal that I try to maintain in my own work.”

Vedek had no reply. It was true then that the Order was as morally stalwart as Rodd had claimed. Perhaps they could assist Vedek’s return to his throne.

Rerume examined the leaflet a second time. “This could be an opportunity. Fight alongside them and truly see the test of their metal.”

“I was thinking similar lines. I would rather earn coin from an honorable lot than a bounty board.”

Rerume shook his head. “You don’t need to seek conflict to earn a means to live, unless you are more hardened than you appear. Forgive me, I have never met an elden fae, but what I have heard makes it seem like you are out of place in the West.”

Vedek did not respond. He could not explain that with a proper bow he could shoot down one of the humming birds flittering between the distant cacti, nor could he explain that he needed the immediate payment of contract work.

The pair returned to their companions to gauge their reactions to this plan. Cole was of course eager to do heroic deeds and Frost was eager for combat. Azeroth looked away from the conversation towards the Order of Suffering’s camp. When asked for his opinion on the job he balked at participating, stating that his unarmed tactics would be unsuitable to fighting lizardkin. He would remain with their supplies and try to earn coin in his own way.

“Your strength will be missed on the battlefield” Frost shook his head.

The wecher had acquired new weapons for the travelers to use. An iron cleaver for himself and a longsword for Rerume. There was nothing for Cole, as the boy did not want to drain their finances. For Vedek, there was a bow and a clutch of arrows.

“You have an archer’s arm.” Frost explained. “I hope this is satisfactory.”

Vedek pulled the string of his new instrument, suddenly very aware of his “archer’s arm.” The bow felt frail and was so small. Had the wecher bought him a child’s toy? No…it was more likely that Vedek was spoiled by the craftsmen of the royal palace. He wistfully wondered what became of his last bow. Perpendiculous, named for how the arrows it fired always seemed to keep a straight path until hitting the target. Never arcing. Never falling.

Frost was anxiously waiting on Vedek’s response.

Vedek cleared his dry throat. “It’s…decent. I am familiar with many weapons, but the bow is a favorite.”

“Of course. You’re an elf.” Cole remarked while eating a slice of bread.

Vedek gave the boy a questioning look. He had never been profiled in such a way. Cole understood and attempted to save face. “Elves like to hunt. Even fae-blooded ones like you.”

“Aye. I suppose they do.” Vedek accepted with a faint murmur.

Vedek wondered how much combat his companions had truly seen. He had been trained since birth in all arts and that included combative ones. Swords, bows, spears, and Arcana (though Vedek never succeeded with that). All of it taught by the finest teachers who pushed him to the border of perfection. But true combat? Vedek was cresting mid-life and to say that he had been in many life-or-death battles would be a lie. The benefit of growing up in peacetime, or the curse, given his current situation. Cole was right, he did know how to hunt and he hunted very well. If the lizardkin proved to be more beast than sapient then he would do well against them. Or so he hoped.

Vedek’s brother Zexven always favored the sword. As brothers they were made to spar, but the results were always an even split. Vedek knew his brother held back during those duels. He knew because Vedek was always tired after each match while his brother rarely showed exertion. He also knew, because the day Zexven attacked with intent to kill was the day Vedek came closest to dying.