The Storm Guard are the most elite warriors of the Iron Raven, clad in full steel armor and wielding steel weapons they are a terrifying sight on the battlefield, working in tight cohesive units. Although each one of them is a knight in their own right, they fight best in formations, using their superior weapons and armor to encircle and crush foes. However, their primary deployment method is as heavy shock infantry, breaking apart the frontlines without suffering major casualties. There are only four full units of Storm Guard, three are bound to the Rain Passes and are loyal to each of the Lords there, and the last Storm Guard unit is in service directly under the Lord of the Iron Raven in Aquillum.
Each unit has a banner signifying their service, with the names and heraldry of fallen comrades enscribed on a secondary banner that hangs from the same pole. The unit serving in Aquillum is the largest, 1,500 individuals as opposed to the 500 in the other units. While they primarlity serve as honorary guards, they are a force to be reckoned with in battle, being personally responsible for the changing of tides in battles with their mere presence.
Other Realms posess forces similar to the Storm Guard, however, the Storm Guard are the only ones to be clad in full steel armor, and is the primary reason why their numbers are quite limited compared to the elites of other Realms. Despite that, they are well worth their cost, having defeated the elite units of the Bronze Bull in a prior conflict despite inferior numbers.
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The Silver Sharks love their ships. They would celebrate the birth of a new vessel, mourn the death of them, and they guarded their ship building secrets jealously. So great is their love of them that they despised every second they had to spend away from their ships.
As such, it wasn't surprising that when the Silver Sharks decided to make way to Drakenhold they rode their ships up the Great River of Angrith.
Peasants who came to the waters edge to collect water and start their mornings gaped at the sight of the massive fleet slowly making its way up north. Thirty five was their number, each gleaming silver and blue, and flying the banners of the Silver Shark. While all of them had been cleaned and decorated to their utmost splendour, each ship had it's own individual flair, a sign of the strong individualistic nature of these captain-lords.
Some sported beautiful maidens, their faces serene as the calmest shallows with long flowing silver hair while others had faces that were contorted and twisted with rage and sorrow like the stormiest of raging seas.
Some had magnificent statues of Gods, both foreign and dead, imposing yet devoid of meaning to the peasants who stood by gaping in awe.
While all of these vessels were impressive, none were as spectacular, nor as finely enriched as the flagship leading them. At its prow was a massive Sharks head, its maw gaping open in a snarl, showing off its multiple rows of serrated teeth. Its cold dead black eyes felt alive, glaring at all those who passed before it. Its silver scales gleamed in the over hanging sunlight, blinding those who dared to look directly at it.
The deck was filled to the brim with strong hardy sailors, muscles brimming with strength, all shouting and grunting in unison as they rowed. Two ballistae loaded with massive quarrels gleamed in the back quarters of the ship, and two siphons, no doubt filled with dreaded Liquid Fire, were mounted in the front of the magnificent vessel.
However, as magnificent as the vessel was, her Captain could not be matched in his splendour. He stood 2 meters tall, his bare chest showing out from his long padded coat. He was covered in gold and silver and precious stones, rings on every finger, and upon his neck were necklaces fit for kings. He had a long flowing silver beard, the only aspect of him that seemed to have aged over his life, and it too was decorated bay bands of silver and gold. Yet, upon his head, where one would expect a crown of some sort, was only a simple golden circlet, so small, so thin and insignificant one would be forgiven for not seeing it at all.
This man is known to many as the man who single handedly sunk and foiled the invasion fleet of the Crimson King, the man who tore his own father apart with his bare hands, and the man who spat in the face of the previous Drake King.
The Lord of the Silver Shark, Sanguinor Galadine.
It's been three days since they began to sail up the Angrith. And there were still six more til they could arrive at Drakenhold. Due to Drakenhold being so inland one would be correct to worry about the feasibility of taking an entire fleet upstream.
Lord Sanguinor was not worried about such things. The River Angrith ran both wide and deep all the way past Drakenhold, only narrowing at the foothold of the Iron Mountains. No, Lord Sanguinor was not worried at all.
He was bored.
The wind barely blew, forcing his men to have to row, and there was nothing to amuse himself with beyond the few bards he brought who were already beginning to run low on creativity. He did NOT want to listen to yet another song about his beard.
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Why does everybody fixate on his beard?
He knew the answer of course, his long silver beard didn't really seem to fit his somewhat still youthful appearance, and as such seemed out of place. And of course people tend to fixate on such anomalies. But even then, he argued to himself, surely they would lose interest and fixate on my jewellery, or my ship, or at the very least the various deeds I've done.
One of the bards coughed as they attempted to come up with another song, but they fell silent as Lord Sanguinor swiped his hand at them irritably.
Bored and irritated. That would be the sum of all of his current emotions. Boredom and irritation.
He wished he didn't have to go to the capital. It was nothing but backstabbing and false smiles, things that one would expect but wouldn't find pleasure in. The last time he had been forced to attend a meeting in the capital he had been condemned for "inhumane acts of cruelty". The damn hypocrites.
Even the Meeting of the Five was not enough to cause him to return to Drakenhold, a point of contention noted by every lord and lady across the land. Despite his ill repute amongst the other members of high society Lord Sanguinor was popular in his own Realm, and for him that was enough.
Indeed he preferred the title of Captain over Lord, though his people have turned to calling him Captain-Lord instead.
Lord Sanguinor sighed as he sat down at the prow of his ship. He wondered if he should just turn his fleet around and head back home, but the current situation was developing in a way that he did not expect.
The current Drake King seemed young and somewhat foolish the last time he had seen him, taking over the throne after the unexpected death of his father. Despite that it seems that he had matured, and matured in the manner that only the Drake's would, becoming capricious and estranged. Yes, the call for the Five as well as their men seemed like an active provocation, one that goaded the Lords of the Plains too well.
Had it not been for the alliance between the Silver Shark and the Bronze Bear, and by extension the Lords of the Plains, Lord Sanguinor would not have bothered with these events.
While he was not a master of politics, having only risen to his position by brute force and maintaining it in that same manner, he felt something wrong was about to happen.
Something very wrong.
He angrily swiped at the nearest bard, they started to sing about his silver beard again.
Damn it.
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I felt myself flying through the air. The gravel ground and blue sky mixed as I tumbled, crashing into the ground.
The long trail of wagons and soldiers had stopped while I was telling my story to Trest and Adam, and the moment the wheels stopped moving Trest had grabbed me and tossed me out.
I could hear Adam and Trest wrestling around, Trest angrily shouting at Adam to let him go, and Adam yelling back telling him to not be stupid. I spat out a piece of grit that made its way into my mouth and slowly rose up. A small crowd formed around us, well me, Trest and Adam were still in the cart, but the bystanders were gathering, fellow Recruit-Wards, and several soldiers.
"THAT FUCKER IS THE REASON I'M A RECRUIT WARD ADAM! FUCKING LET GO OF ME BEFORE I FUCKING SMASH YOUR SKULL IN!"
"TREST YOU MORON CALM DOWN! YOU DON'T KNOW IF HE HAD DONE ANYTHING!"
I stood up straight, balancing on my toes as Trest angrily dragged Adam and himself over towards me. One of the bystanding soldiers whistled at the sight, some were grinning as they watched.
"YOU MOTHER FU-"
Trest swung his fist at me, hard and fast. I moved my head back, dodging the clumsy blow before Adam tackled him again, pinning him into the ground. Both of them were panting furiously, Trest breathing in copious amounts of dust and dirt but seemingly didn't care, and Adam tried his hardest to keep Trest from getting up.
Trest muttered murderously,
"If what I think is right, and you were involved in that incident I swear I'm going to hunt you down and kill you, Astus."
He glared at me, his eyes filled with hatred. I stared back quietly. I don't know why he was this angry, but I wasn't going to let him take it out on me, especially when he didn't know what happened that day. Hell, he didn't even let me finish my story before he threw me out of the cart.
"Trest-"
Just as I was about to respond Instructor Hearst burst through the crowd, smashing me and Adam in the head with his fists and sent us sprawling into the dirt before screaming at all three of us.
"HAVE YOU ALL FORGOTTEN WHAT THE HEAD INSTRUCTOR SAID BEFORE WE LEFT? YOUR ACTIONS REFLECT ON ALL OF US! ACT OUT ONCE MORE AND I'LL SEND YOU ALL BACK TO AQUILLUM ON YOUR OWN!"
""Yessir""
Adam and I struggled to get back on our feet as we shouted our confirmation. Trest stood up silently with a dark expression before going back into the cart.
Instructor Hearst gave us one dirty look before dispersing the crowd, now leaving dissapointedly as they didn't get to see a proper fight, as he left.
I stumbled. That was twice I got hit on the head, and I would have fallen face first into the ground had Adam not grabbed me. I was about to mutter out my thanks, but he put his mouth to my ears and whispered.
"I don't know what exactly you did, but I can tell what would have happened. Give me a couple days and I'll convince Trest to calm down enough to hear you out. Until then stay quiet and don't do anything stupid."
He pushed me over to the cart before climbing in himself.
I didn't go back in. I didn't think it would have been wise to do so anyways. So I just stood there, quietly, leaning against the wooden base of the cart, looking up at the sky and trying my best not to fall over again.
Fuck this hurts. My face had several cuts after it kissed the ground, and they stung, causing me to hiss slightly as I washed them out with what little water I had in my water skin.
I felt rather indignant. And extremely confused. Trest had exploded, seemingly spontaneously, and he had blamed me for his being a Recruit-Ward?
I sighed. This is why I didn't like talking to others about my past. All of them always reacted the same, staring at me with eyes of contempt and spite. Although ususally none of them had acted as violently as Trest just did.
Looking up I realized that it was almost night, one of the reasons why the procession would have stopped. Probably the only reason actually, that and the fact that this location was one of the few that were flat and wide enough to fit everyone.
Which meant that it was time to sleep soon. And I didn't want to go into the cart and see Trest quite yet.
Fuck.