The lone rider cantered along the highway. Cresting the ridge he saw the sprawling Todttenberg, capital city of Schilden.

The Ohlsbachi and Schildene peoples spoke a language that was similar enough that they could understand each other. Whereas the Ohlsbachi had mostly accepted the Halder pantheon into their worship, the Schildenes, along with the other Lieden folk had maintained a monotheistic faith in their god, Halberk, an original god of this world.

As he approached the city gate guards, he reined in and from within his travel robe, drew a scroll of parchment bearing the Schildene royal seal.

Upon eying the seal, the guards waved him through without question. The horseman rode through the streets, threading his way toward the king’s palace, passing shops, and throngs of people and soldiers going about their day’s business.

Finally, he approached the palace gates, and showing the same letter was waved through. He rode through the extensive grounds, and finally arrived at the palace steps. He looked up at the spires topped with conical rooves, that each had flagpoles at their apex, red and yellow swallow-tail pennants snapping in the breeze.

The man sighed, as he beheld what was once the glory of his people, exemplified before him in this sister kingdom to his fallen homeland.

He entered the palace, and was escorted to the throne room, where sat upon an ornate chair upon a raised dais was the King of Schilden. Standing behind the king at his right shoulder was a shadowy figure, cowled in a robe of black obscuring his face. The figure whispered into the king’s ear, and the king languidly raised his eyes to the newcomer.

“Ah, well met, Baron Lun Duegr. Approach Us, so that We may greet thee properly,” said King Gustaver Heigl.

Franz stepped closer to the dais and knelt before the monarch. “I bring grim tidings, your majesty. I fear we must move forward our timetable. For in my zeal to bring more of the Ohlsbachi nobles to our righteous cause, one of questionable loyalty is at large with knowledge of our plans.”

The king was about to speak, but a touch from the shadowy figure silenced him, and his head bowed as though he were in a daze. The figure moved toward Franz and held a hand up toward him, slowly closing it into a fist.

Franz felt a pressure inside his head, and then screamed as blood trickled from his nose. He fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Then, as suddenly as the pain struck him, it stopped.

The shadowy figure hissed at him, “Does your incompetence know no bounds? Why did you not kill this interloper the moment his loyalty was in question?”

Franz coughed and spluttered as he began recovering himself, and then said weakly, “I tried. I shot him with a crossbow as he fled. I think he is dead, but I could not verify it.”

“Well, it is clear you are of no use to me alive,” said the figure in the black robe in a hollow sounding voice.

“Herthiom, please! I can still be of service! I gathered a force of three thousand good Ohlsbachi men, ready to fight for our cause!” begged Franz, as he crouched and touched his forehead to the black robed figure’s feet.

“Three thousand. Hm, it may be that you have earned yourself a reprieve… for now,” said Herthiom.

“Thank you, most holy! I live to serve you and the true god.”

“I am the true god!” spat Herthiom at the now prostrate Baron Franz Lun Duegr. “But leaving that aside, my order of holy Thaden knights numbers two hundred and fifty, we have five thousand men at arms and one thousand archers that King Gustaver was kind enough to provide. We also have one hundred and fifty wyvern riders. That is nigh on ten thousand; a formidable force, indeed.”

“Yes, oh holy one. What is your bidding?” asked Franz in a quavering voice.

“We shall split the force into three. Once we clear the mountain pass, the black general, Lord Drunen Gerfeldt will take his army north. General Lord Brander Driesch will turn south with his force. You and I will head east.”

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“Holy one, is it wise to divide our forces? Would it not be best to strike directly at Fludavera and demand Ohlsbach’s liberation?”

“We shall have dominance of the skies, and we shall strike deep into Holvela before they can react. It will take them time to assemble troops, and with three attacking armies rampaging through their lands, they will not be able to gauge our true strength. This will make them cautious. It will sap the will of their people, and in many cases, turn them against their lords.”

“Forgive me, oh holy one, but you do not know these mongrels. Though I hate them with every fibre of my being, I cannot deny, they are not mere peasants and farmers. No. Each and every one of their men is a capable warrior, and they have among them those who can control the elements. They can use wind, fire, and water to drive the wyverns from the sky.”

“Hm, that certainly adds a complication I had not factored. No matter. It will still take them time to assemble, and by then, a sizeable portion of your homeland will be liberated. Then we can convert them to the true faith.”

“It may not be an easy task, holy Herthiom. They will most likely hold on to their faith,” said Franz.

“Then they will die,” came Herthiom’s simple response, as Franz peered up into his eyeless face.

ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ

The man’s unfocused eyes scanned his surroundings. From the tones he could make out, he realised he was in a room. A blurred shape came into his field of view, and as his focus sharpened, he realised it was a young woman.

The woman touched his head, and said in a pleasant voice, “You have returned to us, mister. It would seem your fever has broken.”

“Where am I?” Margrave Karl Vorspiel asked weekly.

“You are in my home, in Kodeck,” she answered.

Karl made to rise, but was held down by a firm, yet gentle hand. “I must go. I need to get word to Fludavera.”

“Nay, sir. You must rest. You were near death when we found you,” she said.

“What is your name, milady?”

“Ah yes, how rude of me, I am Valedere. Valedere Sengen, but you can call me Val. And you, sir?”

“I am Karl Vorspiel.”

“The Margrave of Slenes? Oh forgive me, milord. I did not-”

“No, please. I owe you an enormous debt. You saved my life. But I implore you. Grand Duke Viggin needs to know that rebellion is fomenting. You also, you must come with me. It is not safe here.”

“Please, milord. Rest. I will tell my husband, he will get word to the capital. You are in no condition to travel.”

“Could I impose upon you to arrange a carriage? Or even a cart? I need to present myself, for I must confess my part in it. I was considering-”

“Say no more, milord. I will try. But please know, you would bring word of what is unfolding here. Take it to heart that in this act, you absolve yourself of what happened before.”

“You are too kind, good Valedere. I am grateful to you and your husband,” said Karl. He sighed and sank back into the bed upon which he lay.

ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ

“Ah, it feels good to be out on the waves again,” said Erik with a broad grin.

The longship rose and fell amongst the uncharacteristically choppy waters of the Holvelan Gulf. They had made it thus far thanks to Orn using his elemental abilities to propel the three ships carrying them. However, he’d needed to ease back on the speed as the weather turned. He worried that going too fast would launch the ship too high off the water, which risked damaging the ship as it came down.

“How does it feel to be married?” asked Orn.

“Sheesh, Orn! It’s only been a week. How the heck would I know? It doesn’t feel any different than last time you asked,” replied Erik, with a bemused expression.

“I’m curious, that’s all. I mean, I will be married soon, so-”

“Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse there, Brother? Mother wouldn’t let you get married until your sixteen. Hell, even later, since you’re her widdle bay-bee,” mocked Erik.

“Shut up. So… How was it?”

“How was what?” asked Erik, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“You know… it!”

Erik’s ears and cheeks suddenly turned a flaming red, as he quickly turned from his brother to hide it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Come on, just tell me what it was like. How did-”

“Orn! Leave it be!” chided Venna from amid ships. She hadn’t heard the topic of conversation, but knew her sons well enough to hazard a guess. She snorted and shook her head as she glanced at Vylder, who himself snorted and shrugged, as Selti looked out to sea, blushing.

Vylder turned to Mswali and said, “You serve with a fine crew, Brother.”

“Yes. I learn many thing. I want my own ship, and explore,” replied the Gijeji warrior, with a toothy smile.

“Ambitious. But I don’t doubt you will get there. It warms me to know you have truly found a home among us,” said Vylder, fondly. “But don’t spend all your life at sea. We need to find you a wife. A good Halder woman to give me nephews.”

Mswali gave a hearty laugh at that.

“Wally! Come take the rudder for a spell!” called the captain.

“I wish I had of though of that. ‘Wally’, it suits you,” said Vylder as he chuckled.

Mswali laughed with him, “Well, they mouth not make my name.”

“Let’s head astern, before the captain gets a bunch in his drawers,” said Vylder as he, Venna and the Gijeji headed toward the rear of the ship.

Two days later, they docked at Fludavera. As they alighted, they gathered on the dock. There was a sudden crash as a man’s voice cried, “LOOK OUT!”