‘Maybe I should go help pack up’
I swung my simple bastard sword around, giving the practice dummies several blunt thwacks. The sword blade is dulled, purposely so that no one accidently takes their own heads off during practice, which happened once before according to Instructor Hearst.
‘I do have a lot of stuff I want to take with me. My leather armor, my cleaning kits…and I do have to make sure that Trest and Adam don’t get into a serious fight as well…’
Perhaps it was because I had a lot of things on my mind, or perhaps it was because of the rain making the dummies wooden arms slick my blade glanced off it and threw me off balance. After a few moments of stumbling to regain balance I sighed and rested my sword on my shoulder.
‘But more importantly…why did I dream of that night again. It’s been nearly 6 years, and I don’t feel any pain anymore so why?’
The entirety of the barracks was still noisy, bustling with activity as everyone prepared themselves for the long journey that some of them had been anticipating. The few that knew about this before seemed awfully smug, hanging out in the balcony talking to each other in loud, self-satisfied voices. Seemingly they had heard of these rumors from when they snuck out to the pubs late at night, though how they could sneak out under Instructor Hearst’s eyes was beyond me.
Supposedly, however, something had gone wrong in the capital. Drakenhold was never the bastion of safety that it supposedly appeared to be, but the sheer speed at which this news was spreading seemed rather…off. Even to young Recruit-Wards such as myself. In fact, I’ve never seen Instructor Hearst looking so…grim. Usually he had a semi-delighted smirk about his face as he drilled us on everything from combat drills to scouting doctrines. Yet today he had been completely stoic. He almost seemed unnerved.
I sneezed as a cold wind blew against my wet hair and clothes. Well its time to head back in. I just hope Trest hasn’t been stepping all over my bedsheets like he usually does when he gets all excited.
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Lord Corvus of the Realm of the Iron Raven stood silent as he listened half-mindedly to the grim reports coming from his Scout Captain. He had called for all his staff today, yet only half had come in time, some coming in as the report was still being given. Efficiency was crucial, yet the terrain, as usual, did not cooperate. Several of his men, in particular those in charge of communication with the neighboring Realms had yet to arrive.
“-and we have verified the message from Drakenhold. The King has summoned the Five to attend a special meeting, regardless of how close the timing is to the Meeting of the Five.”
“THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS” shouted a stout and thickset man. His black beard was filled with spittle as he expressed his absolute displeasure.
“THIS KIND OF THREATENING BEHAVIOUR GOES AGAINST THE TREATY OF THE SIX. HOW ARE WE TO KNOW THAT THIS IS NOT A PLOY TO SABATOGE OUR COMING PLANS WITH THE URSINE?”
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Corvus sat silently as the other men murmured, some in agreement and others in discontent. He looked around for those who had come. His Scout Captain, thin and gaunt from his hurried travels to and from Drakengard and neighboring villages sat down next to the man who had just shouted, Lord Umbric Stormclaw, commander of the 3rd Rain pass. The other Lords of the Rain Passes were there as well, Lord Sturnn, and Lord Terron. Aside from them however, few who mattered were here.
As Corvus stood up the room went silent.
“We must not assume anything yet Umbric. The other Lords have not yet made their moves, and it is crucial that we wait out the coming chaos. I do have to agree though, that this timing is incredibly strange, and your worries are not unfounded. The Drake’s have always been frivolous and capricious in their treatment of others, and it would not be the first time that a near violation of the Treaties has been seen.”
Corvus paused as he looked over the war map that lay over his council table. Even in times of peace he had it out, always vigilant for subtle changes in the balance of power. The Realm of the Crows had always weathered threats wisely, and he would make sure it stayed that way.
The map was centered on Drakenhold, the throne capital where the Drakes lived and ruled. From it the Realm of the Iron Raven stretched into the West, encompassing the steep and rainy mountains and canyons. To the south of the Ravens stretched the forest filled Realm of the Ursine, the residence of the Copper Bear. Even further south the harbor cities and river villages of the Silver Shark stood. To the East of Drakenhold were golden plains and bronze fields, the conjoined Realm of the Golden Lions and Bronze Bulls.
All five Lords were called to Drakenhold. All Five lords to answer to the King of Drakes.
Corvus looked up at his men. While he was silent his Guard Captain and Head Instructor of the Recruits had joined him. They nodded silently as his gaze swept over them.
“Whatever it is that the Drake King plans, we must be prepared to meet them. We march in force. Lord Sturnn, Lord Terron, Lord Umbric, I expect your men to be here in 3 days’ time. You need not bring your garrisons, but I require at least 100 household Knights from each of you. Scout Captain, rally the Lords who have not arrived. Dismissed.”
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The next few days were filled with the loud noises of preparations. Carts and wagons were being brought out of store houses and then filled with grain and other provisions, horses were being outfitted with new horseshoes and being groomed, and the blacksmiths were busy sweating and hammering out the dents from armor.
Minstrels and bards attempted to make quick coins from the busy crowds, yet none had any to spare, and their songs and gossip were quickly buried in the hurried confusion. Everyone was busy in one manner or the other, rushing from here and there to provide refreshments, deliver important messages, and Guards attempted to maintain at least some sense of public order.
I strolled down the Central Market street, hoping to escape the hubbub going on in the barracks. Apparently, someone had placed a fragile bottle of rather strong-smelling alcohol in the wrong bag, and it broke open spoiling several belongings of a rather unfortunate individual. The brawling was getting a bit too intense, so I left with a notebook in hand, hoping to seek some quiet in the upper floors of Aquillum.
I passed by the guards who stood by the entrance to the upper levels and sat down under a tree in a little overlook positioned so one could see almost the whole city. I would have never been allowed here before, a scruffy little orphan would sully the poor eyes of the upper-class merchants who lived here but being a Recruit-Ward did have its perks.
The cool mountain air brought down wafts of mist from the tops of the mountains, almost like silk drapes slowly falling down. The breeze gently shook the trees, and the entire dense forest swayed to and fro, appearing almost like fur dancing to the gentle tune of nature. One could almost ignore the noise coming from the city below and drown lush view of the mountains of Aquillum. The walls of Aquillum fit perfectly in the view, high towering defenses built in the heart of a mountain pass to deter any invaders hardy enough to even pass through the mountains to begin with. Built with tough black stones, the walls blended in with the dark green treetops. A fortress floating atop a sea of dark green, with mist and rain descending upon it.
I looked down at my lap, and saw that I had unknowingly, by habit, opened my notebook and begun drawing the majestic view. The grand sweeping mountains, the shifting breeze of nature all depicted on my notebook…as barely intelligible scribbles and squiggles.
What a waste of paper.
The sudden loud shouting from below grabbed my attention away from my horrific artwork, and I could see a regiment of mounted heavily armored knights. They all wore black plate mail, and I could see the front standard waving back and forth, proudly displaying its insignia, a lightning bolt grasped in the talons of a hawk’s foot.
There were two more similar blocks of knights coming in from different streets, but all headed towards the same place, the Lord’s keep.
The Knights of the Rain Passes had arrived. It was time to set foot for Drakenhold.