The days before the sighting of the Silvestrians followed the same rhythm. Wake up, do my rounds, come home, and cook. Then when she came home, Sylvie would take me to the lake just outside of the city and show me the basics of harnessing magic. She taught me things that books couldn’t, such as how to intuit the feeling of magic; sense mana itself. A skill I had already picked up on before, but was now honed until I could make it come as easily as a breath of air; pulling it out of my core with ease. She showed me spells that even she should not know, but had managed to sneak a peek at her masters books and learn anyways. I decidedly did not comment on this similarity between the two of us. And the best part? The city's Archmage was a licensed battle mage. Meaning his tomes had all sorts of nasty spells. Spells Sylvie managed to sneak into her own spellbook, which was very much a crime. But, hey, we were 100% already doing something very illegal.
Combat spells that make your enemy slower than a tortoise, as though they were swimming through molasses. Spells to freeze, burn, and confuse. And all of them she did her best to teach me, and I for one, was an eager and voracious learner. I was nowhere near her level of course, but if required, we might be capable of fighting with the Archmage and maybe turn the tide of battle. Hopefully.
Of course there were more things going with the threat of annihilation with no real escape on the horizon. Brock agreed to let Reo marry Margaret, provided we turn out ok. A fact that Reo was over the moon with. Then, by some miracle, the reinforcements we had requested arrived. None of the blockades the Silvestrians must have put up stopped them, maybe the Silvestrians had never put them up to begin with. Two thousand infantry and one thousand five hundred archers. Nidariel, being as large as it was, naturally had more than enough space to house the influx of soldiers. Trumpets blew, drums rang out, and voices cried with joy as the army marched into the city. Their armour clean and resplendent with the colours of various noble houses splashed on tabards and gambesons. Company banners and retinue pennants waved and snapped in the breeze, as though greeting the people of the city. It was almost a parade, hell, it was a parade. And who’s parade was it? Riding in front of the procession atop a jet black, twenty hand tall, handsome creature; his armour gleaming in the sun, hair flowing in the breeze with his helm tucked under his arm? I’ll bet you’ve guessed by now, The Sword of Proell, the Hero of the Dark Fen, Royal General, and Prince consort, Malachi of Nidariel, had come to defend his home.
By the time the troops had arrived, the ditches had been dug deep and filled with sharpened, fire hardened, wooden spikes. The archers on the walls and in the towers around the city were always prepared and rotated shifts every three hours, making sure everyone was fresh. Then the first report of the Silvestrian advance arrived. One of our scouts came bearing news that they would be exiting the forests that stood before Nidariel by tonight. Likely they would set up camp right outside of the walls, in the empty fields of our flat farmland. The scout detailed their siege engines, two large battering rams, at least ten trebuchets, five guns, and five siege towers. Not to mention supplies enough to at least double that amount at any time. Granted, he was being very liberal with his estimations, but over-prepared was always better than caught with our pants down so to speak. Then he told us something we did not want to hear. Something we all had hoped would not happen. Joining the fray would be a platoon of Silvestrian battle mages, putting us at a distinct disadvantage. After all, we only had a single Archmage and no combat cleared mages, at least no official ones. And even the two of us would be hard pressed fighting one trained, ordinary, battle mage. Likely they’d try and starve us out, even with mages, Nidariel would not be easy to take. As a border city, it had impressive defenses. Not to mention all the work we’d done in improving the fortifications. And so, both sides settled into what would likely be a long siege.On one of the slower days, I made my way to the impromptu commander center Malachi had set up when he first came into the city. They hadn’t bothered moving into any actual building. The compound of wooden walls and canvas tents was located smack in the middle of the city’s gardens. The guards, seeing my uniform let me pass but kept an eye on me. I made my way to the grandest tent in the area, richly decorated black and green. I nodded to the guards, and using an old trick, I made myself appear smooth and confident. They didn’t question me as I ducked into the tent, only to see Malachi in a simple shirt and drawstring pants mulling over a map lit by lamp light. To his left was a red sofa, with a small coffee table made of walnut wood. On it was a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of biscuits.
“Hey Mal,” I called out softly, not knowing if he remembered me at all. Malachi looked up, the worried thoughtful expression being replaced by a smile.
“Liam?” he said as he walked towards me, grinning with overly white teeth. “I thought you would have left Nidariel by now!?” he held out his hand and clasped my arm.
“It’s damn good to see you again Malachi,” I said, returning the gesture. He held me out at arms length, looking me over.
“What kept you in Nidariel?” he asked, releasing my arm and gesturing to the sofa. I sat on the plush cushion across from Malachi. He snapped at the guards outside and ordered another cup of coffee for me before we sat.
“Where would I go? And of course I have Sylvie. Do you remember her?” I said reclining on the plush red cushion as Malachi took out a pipe. He took a moment to light the hash and baccer mix, flicking the spent match into a metal tray, then leaned back.
“She’s not an easily forgettable person,” he replied with a faint smile, “She makes damn sure of that,” he said, rubbing his chin where she had once punched him when they were all children in the orphanage. I remembered that incident, Malachi had been hurt less by her punch and more about how a girl had hit him. Malachi glanced down at my hand, which bore my simple silver wedding ring. “She finally said yes, hmm?”
I grinned, “Yeah, she did,” I said, twisting my ring and remembering the simpler times when we were kids. We were all orphaned some way or the other. Most of our parents were killed in the previous war, or starved to death, and some gave their children to the orphanage knowing they could not care for them. Proell had been fighting Silvestris for more than fifty years now, on and off.
“Do you remember the time we stole old man Nelson’s apples?” asked Malachi with a grin. I smiled thinking back on the memory. Mal and I were running around the city, as one does. But, this time it was in the dead of night. We had snuck out of the orphanage simply to see what mischief we could get up to. We didn’t really have a goal. We never really did.
Sure, the city was dangerous at night, like any other city. But we liked to think we knew what we were doing. Not far from the orphanage was the Nelson Villa. Everyone knew Ole Nelson slept like the dead. He was one of the few people in the city to have a large enough garden for trees. Being a rich merchant, he had a few guards placed around the grounds. And through some stroke of dumb luck we managed to sneak past the guards and climb over the wall into his garden. Perhaps that was Providence, smiling down upon us. It was more likely the guards were fat and lazy, not really paying attention; let alone caring. There wasn’t any chicken wire or broken glass on the top of the wall, a practice that gained popularity a few years later to discourage people like us. And more unsavoury types of course, the ones who weren’t content with just filching a few apples. His apple trees were bare, his servants likely already had picked all the apples. And so, being enterprising rascals, we snuck around and found his shed. It was locked, but for Malachi that meant nothing. With a set of locksmith’s tools he had “borrowed” from the locksmith’s shop a couple of years back, he quickly and quietly picked the lock. Opening the door to the shed we were greeted by large barrels of apples, some gardening tools, and an empty sack. We couldn’t take an entire barrel. It was way too much for a ten year old and a scrappy fifteen year old to lug across the city. So we filled the convenient sack, which itself was quite sizable, with as many apples as we could and made our daring escape. Timing the guards shift change perfectly, at the time we had thought ourselves so very clever; but no, lazy guards are lazy, Malachi and I walked out of the front gates with no one the wiser. Then came the question of what to do with the apples, we couldn’t eat all of them. So, Malachi and I hid the apples in a safe place. A deep hole in the yard behind the orphanage.
Then early the next day we dug up and took the apples to the local brewery, not only did they make booze, they also made juice from the local fruit orchards. We sold them the apples, to which they did not raise an eyebrow to, for five silver and a glass of cider each for our troubles. A few years later when it was uncovered as a front for some drug smuggling ring, the only thing I was surprised by was that they’d never tried to peddle any psychoactive substances to us. Our haul was very very good for one night's work, albeit just as illegal. That year, everyone heard old man Nelson complain how the harvest from his precious apple trees was not as bountiful this year. With five silver in our pockets, we felt unstoppable. The first thing us two fools did was brag to everyone we met. Me, trying to impress Sylvie, made it seem like we had stolen more than we really did. Rather than impressing her this only made her get mad at me for stealing from Nelson. I, of course, argued that he was rich enough that fifty pounds of apples going missing would not affect his bottom line. After all, he got around four hundred pounds of apples from all of his trees combined, and that was after we took our cut. Then when Malachi tried to support me she punched him, Malachi didn’t see it coming and was unable to dodge with his usual grace; a detail he lamented even years after the fact. Then my beloved (now wife) called the future-Prince consort a bad influence. That did not stop Malachi and I from doing the occasional mischievous act, but we never did anything on that scale again. As small as it was. Me because it was made abundantly clear the girl I was trying to woo did not appreciate those antics, and Malachi because he didn’t want to get slugged across the face again. No matter how little it had hurt, for a fifteen year old, getting hit by a girl was embarrassing!
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“Did you come to ask me something? Or did you just come to reminisce?” asked Malachi, passing me his pipe. I waved it away, I hadn't smoked in years. He nodded.
“Both, to be perfectly honest. I just wanted to know how life was treating you. Apart from what the laymen know,” I said with a smile, “You’ve gone so far in such a short amount of time, I’m just wondering what that feels like.”
“The age old question huh? I’ll be honest Liam. And you’re the only one I’ll tell this to. I’m trying my best, but I'm afraid that somehow, somewhere, I’ll prove all those old men in the court right and make a huge blunder. It’s a lot of stress, I got to where I am by dumb luck; not really much skill to speak of. Fate is something that has always come to my aid, but I’m not sure when that luck will run out,” he looked me in the eyes with a rueful smile and took a sip of his coffee.
“Honestly, the fact that Silvestris has not yet defeated us is befuddling. They use mages, those who were born talented and those who had to be taught, in battle. Compared to us, who only teach those with natural born talents and almost never deploy them on the field of combat. Not only that, but Severnaya Zemlya is held back by only the mountains, but eventually they’ll manage to get through. That’ll be leaving our northern border exposed, making us susceptible to an effective pincer attack. Thankfully, Patrida and Yanan are still trading with us, but that's as far as they will go. They’ll provide a secure trade route, but there will be no military support from them. Which is something I cannot fault them for. If I were in that position I would do the same,” He put down his pipe and finished off his coffee with one long, shaky, drink. I still held my cup in my hand, it was still quite warm.
“I imagine,” I began tentatively, “that siding with Proell is not on anyone's mind. Not after the control our forefathers once had on the continent. It makes sense they don’t want us to rise in power ever again. And what with the recent attempts at invading Silvestris, forgive me for saying, but it seems as though King Herlof is chasing the shadow of Proell’s former might and failing,” I said judging Malachi’s reaction. He stiffened and looked around.
“Keep your voice down Liam,” he hissed “And never say anything like that again, especially not in public,” but his body relaxed. And in a much quieter tone, he continued.
“I have to admit, you’re not wrong. And it's what most people in the court think as well. And now it becomes clear to me that this is also the opinion of, forgive me for saying, but also the laymen of our country.” he paused judging my reaction. I kept my expression as neutral as possible, causing him to sigh, Truth be told I didn’t really care about being called a layman, a poker face simply seemed like an appropriate response.
“Let me tell you something Liam, I have been fighting nonstop for the past five years. I’m tired, as is the entire country. I just want peace, I want to go home to my wife, and rest. I’ve floated the idea of a peace treaty by the King many times within the past few years. But, it’s always been shot down. Do you know why, Liam?” he said leaning in close to me before whispering, so quiet even if I leaned in close and strained I could barely hear him.
“Because he knows he’s in the wrong. And he knows, Silvestris will punish us harshly in any peace contract. They could take all of our land south of Lohin, it’s not very valuable land. But it is nearly half of our land, that would be a crushing blow to us. Making it so that we will never be able to regain our former strength. On the other hand, we could not sign a treaty and they would simply take all of Proell. Leaving our once great empire a name in a history book. An ancient empire, destroyed by greed, corruption, and complacency. A story as old as time immemorial,” he leaned back nursing his empty coffee cup, staring at the coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup that did not get filtered out. I did not know what to say. He had kind of rambled at the end there, and processing the information would take me a minute.
To hear our greatest commander, the legendary Sword of Proell admit that we were only delaying our inevitable defeat left me speechless. We both sat in silence, thinking on what had been said, reflecting and running through various scenarios in our minds. I finished my coffee, it was strong and dark. Not my favourite preparation of the beverage, but cream and sugar had not been offered. And I did not feel as though it was appropriate at the moment to ask. I broke the silence,
“So, does this mean that in the upcoming battle, you won’t give it your all?” I asked. He glanced up sharply,
“Of course I will, but the lives of the men under my command are worth more than the overinflated ego of an old man always looking to the past. As Prince consort, if it comes to it, I have the capability and authority to broker peace with Silvestris. Proell has been overusing its sword for too long. A sword that is never cared for dulls with use. It may be time for Proell to use the pen,” he said taking a puff on his pipe, the smoke obscuring his eyes.
“What would happen after that?” I asked.
“I may have many critics in the court, but I also have just as many supporters. Not to mention the common people’s opinion of me is through the roof, so to speak. I could have the King deposed, then my wife would take the throne and I would be the King consort. That man is likely to break any and all treaties, another reason no one offers us aid,” he sighed and got up heading to his map. “Come look at this,” he said, beckoning me over. It was a map of the top half of Hourin, the continent. There were towns and villages, many of them with small names scrawled under them.
Looking at the map I realized just how many rivers were in the continent. And all of them were connected by lakes and tributaries. The detail was stunning. I bent down and looked at the map.
“What am I supposed to be seeing here?” I asked
“Troop movements,” replied Malachi, pulling out a crate with little men painted red and blue. He arranged the blue ones first then with careful deliberation the red ones. He pointed at a cluster of blue troops in the south. “You see here? Our southern flank is completely safe, we have much of our army there, which is the problem,” he said. He then pointed to Nidariel, there clustered, were about three little toy soldiers. “We don’t have enough units to repel a genuine attack from the Silvestrians here. And to add on to the despair, even with the draft, we barely have enough soldiers to keep the borders safe. Nidariel is the closest thing to a fort in the north, but it’s not a fort,” he said with a despairing chuckle. I put my arm around his shoulders, trying to comfort him. He looked up at me with a grin. Something in him seemed to change. His face lit up with a manic smile I knew too well, he had committed to something. What it was I couldn’t tell you, but whatever it was it gave him the strength to stand up tall. The despair was gone from his eyes, instead it was replaced with a worrying manic light that glinted in the candle light. He chuckled, then began laughing. He put his face in his hands, pinching his nose, it broke with a sharp snap! Then he threw his head back, blood splashing against the top of the tent, and kept laughing. I stepped back, afraid his mind finally broke under the stress.
“Malachi! Malachi! Malachi! You’re telling me you’re breaking our arrangement!” Malachi looked up at me. His eyes were pure black almost purple with faint green runes squirming over his eyeballs, like worms in an apple. Thick strong rivulets of blood were streaking down his cheeks, staining his clothing and soaking his beard.
“I agreed to help you, so long as you helped me!” He looked at me, finally noticing me. I had backed away to the couch not sure what was happening.
“I haven’t seen you before,” the thing said with a smile. It cracked his neck with a snap “come here and let me have a look,” I felt a tug as the thing reached out for me. A sort of cloud began coming over my mind, I managed to shake it off before it could do anything.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” He said with a grin. He curled a finger in a beckoning manner, causing me to fly towards him. Before I could scream or yell or do anything of the sort, He had me held by the throat. I couldn’t breathe, I could feel His strong fingers; more stone than flesh, crushing my windpipe. He lifted me up as I scrambled attempting to break his iron grip. I kicked him in the stomach to no avail. Not-Malachi twisted my head to the side and inspected me like a farmer inspects a goat.
“Let…me…go,” I managed to squeak out. I could feel my face going red and I was beginning to get lightheaded. I could feel something twist and break in my throat, and hot blood began trickling out of the corner of my mouth.
“Hmm? Oh yes, your kind is so very delicate. Say? Are you dear Malachi’s friend? Would he be sad if I killed you?!” He said, raising his left hand which was crackling with reddish-purple energy. He brought it closer and closer to my face. Then He stumbled, dropping me. I landed with a hard thud, unable to break my fall. Something cracked as I landed and a sharp pain exploded across my lower back. The breath was sharply knocked out of me. As I squirmed on the ground trying to inflate my lungs, I watched as He stumbled back clutching his face.
“Cmon Malachi! You knew what the punishment was for even considering a breach of contract!” he roared with a maniacal laugh. Malachi looked up, one eye still the unnatural black the other his usual brown.
“Fuck…off,” he grunted as he stood up tall, the black fading from his other eye before he collapsed into the chair next to him. His breathing was hard and he held his head in his hand. He reached for a rag and wiped the blood off of his face and looked down to me. He got up and held out a hand, I clasped it as he pulled me up to my feet with a powerful tug. I promptly fell again as more pain exploded across my back. I could only groan as the pain invaded my mind making me numb to everything. I felt a hand touch my tailbone, and warmth filled the area in contact with it. Then came the pain, if I could have I would have screamed. But it seemed as though my vocal cords and throat for that matter were completely wrecked. I could feel the bones in my waist and tail bone squirming around in my flesh, rearranging themselves. I heard Malachi say something but couldn’t make out what he was saying. His hand wrapped around my throat and a similar feeling, and pain, enveloped my neck. This time, however, I passed out; welcoming the dark bliss in which pain couldn’t find me.
What felt like moments later I was woken up by someone shaking me roughly. Malachi grabbed me and pulled me off the ground. Surprisingly, there was no pain in my body. Malachi looked like an absolute mess. His beard was caked in dried blood, his eyes were tinged red, and he looked very haggard in general. He held me at arms length before speaking.
“You should go, and don’t tell anyone what you saw. He’ll know if you do,” he said, gesturing to the exit.