Chapter 2:

The Duchy of the Ardent

Wendell watched from the tower ramparts as knights trained in the yard. The sounds of wood striking metal was a satisfying music to his ears. Men in full steel armor wrestled and trained for upcoming battles that were unlikely to ever come. Wendell almost fell asleep from the boredom but he was interrupted from his yawn when he saw his older brother wave his wooden practice sword triumphantly. Apparently, he scored a well-placed strike on the old master-at-arms, Connor Bearthrop. Although he was a rank 40 Crusader Shieldsman, it appeared his age was getting to him. Wendell allowed himself a small smile when he saw his brother get quickly disarmed soon after.

Tired of the performance, Wendell looked at the parchment that held the message which had been tormenting him for the past day. The paper was yellow from the elements but the writing was still clear and concise.

Dear Wendell of the Luthen Clan,

I have received your message regarding your potential involvement in the Trianthian military. Due to your military training, I am prepared to offer you a lieutenant’s position in the Trianthian Legion. The pay will be commensurate with your effectiveness in combat. However, to start, you will receive 25 gold per month.

The contract I am offering will be for three years with a minimum sum of 500 gold that will grow according to your achievements and will be paid out at the end of your service.

I expect to see you in the coming weeks, my friend.

Sincerely,

Yamen Yosef, Level 64, Supreme Commander of Trianth

The sound of footsteps made Wendell turn his head from the note. He smelled the heavy cologne of his father before he spotted the man himself.

“Father,” he greeted, though Wendell made no move from his observation post. He heard the retinue of rank 20 guards that always followed wherever the Duke of the castle went.

“Son,” the senior Luthen said grimly. “Why must you watch the world from afar? You belong with the men-at-arms. It is our tradition to learn the ways of war.”

“Weird,” Wendell replied, his voice dripping with anger. “I do not see a single warrior in our court.” His eyes were now watching his brother as he clumsily blocked a flurry of strikes. Although the Luthen family had a proud martial history, in recent years more and more of their treasury went to parties and fine goods instead of going to build weapons of war..

His father sighed. “While it is important to prepare for war, Wendel, it's also important to celebrate peace. I hope you one day understand that.” The Duke moved closer to his son, but he was still out of arm's reach. “Be that as it may, your other brothers look up to you, nevermind your sister who shall soon enter this world. You must stop this needless warring with my heir. I will not have any bad blood in my lands. “

Wendell finally turned to face his father and his hazel eyes flashed like fire. He stood a head taller and while his father was slender, Wendel’s build was bulky. “It is not I who makes japes of the other’s station.”

“A senseless comment,” the Duke brushed off. “I'll find you a fine wife and give you lands to pass on to your own sons one day, but you mustn’t envy your elder brothers.”

Wendell sighed in defeat. “You have been a fine father to me, perhaps better than the son that I have been.” He looked at the cloudy sky and the forests which shared the same name as the lands. “I can’t live under someone else's shadow all my life. This castle will one day be given to Marq, the town's folk will become his people. Perhaps, my brother, Emmik, will hold a seat on his council, but we both know there is no place in this world for the fourth son” Wendell shook his head as if agreeing with himself. “I have found work befitting my station in the city of Trianth.”

“And what work would that be?” his father asked, his cape billowing in the wind. “You’re a Luthen; you belong here with me, protecting this castle.”

Wendell uncrumpled the paper he had stored in his leather jacket. “Trianth is building an army, Father. They’ve been sending messages to all nearby nobility offering officer positions. I have been corresponding with one of their officials.” He handed the paper to his lordly parent.

Wendell turned to walk away when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was not like his father to show affection. “I… I can get you other gifts as well in order to make things more even. A sword of pure silver, perhaps. Or if it's truly your desire to leave, I can even get you a spot in the Magic Academy in the capital. I hear that the royal children are joining this year, and they have an unwed daughter who is only a few years younger.”

Wendell looked sadly at his father. He wished nothing more to stay in his life of comfort, but what kind of model would that be for his brothers? “I want to prove myself, father. Surely, you must understand that there is a world of opportunity beyond our borders.” Wendell waited for a response but none came. His father sighed and looked at the forests longingly.

“I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be young,” he said wistfully. Then, in a moment of surprising affection, he hugged his son. “I wish to send you with a heavy escort. Ever since the civil war, bandits and slavers have been hunting on the roads in Hearth.”

“I will not start my military career by hiding behind my father’s men. I shall go alone.” With all that said, Wendell left to go pack his things.

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It did not take long for Wendell to leave. He decided to travel lightly and he took a few gold coins, his trusted steel sword, and a horse that he had won in a duel from a foreign Prince. The horse was red and Wendell could never figure out what breed she was, try as he might. But, she was a fast creature and had served him well for over three years. Her speed would come in handy because he would need to make haste in order to arrive in the nearby village before the sun would go down.

As Wendell led his horse down the road to his first destination, he began to think more on his journey forward. On the road to Trianth were several towns which he would need to pass through. These lands were not like the one he grew up in for the Kingdom which ruled them was collapsing day by day. While it was safe around his father’s castle, the places Wendel was traveling to were full of bandits and slavers. It wasn’t surprising to learn that few people dared to make the trek alone. This was entirely different from the nation that Wendel was born and raised in.

That nation was the Kingdom of Orthan, a prosperous nation full of wealth and legends. Wendel’s family owned a castle along the border to the Kingdom of Hearth which lay to its east.

His family were tasked with the important mission of maintaining a castle to fight any occursion by their aggressive neighbors. The Luthen family were so successful that 800 years ago they were uplifted from a family of knights to a lordship, and only 200 years ago they were promoted again to a Duchy. Wendell worried that Marq would undo all their family's accomplishments.

The history of the Kingdom of Hearth was not as full of fortune as his own families’ history. They once ruled some of the richest mines in the continent, but civil war and discontent weakened them over the span of centuries. Now it was a shadow of its former glory, and most of its lands were replaced by several City States, Trianth foremost among them.

The further he journeyed the less he saw of wooden houses and farmers tending their crops and more of trees and cliffs. Suddenly, deep in a forest, Wendell’s horse stopped. He urged the beast forward but it refused to move. With a sigh, he dismounted and began to search for what spooked the horse so much.

It didn’t take long for the forest to consume him. Even though the path was only a stone throw away, it seemed strangely difficult to spot. Regardless, Wendell pushed deeper and deeper into the forest. Wendell looked around. To his annoyance, as far as he could see, there were trees and nothing more. He wondered if his horse was defective, when finally he heard rustling in the bushes. He saw a young girl dressed in rags, still as a rock. She was well-hidden with leaves scattered around her. Wendell quickly realized that she meant to ambush something– or someone. Wendell quickly hid behind a tree and waited. Now safe in his own hiding spot, he looked closer at the girl. He was surprised to notice that she was not fully human. She had spotted cat ears and a tail that every now and then swayed along with the wind. While it was true that other races were common, seeing a free catfolk in the Human Kingdoms was shocking. She was a low rank as well, being only level 2. ‘I could easily take her,’ Wendel thought to himself. Last week when he had leveled up to a rank 15 and gained the strong perk. He was itching for a chance to use it.

It felt like hours, but suddenly, there came another sound. It was travelers going down the same road that he had just disembarked from. Everything happened so quickly. Wendell heard a horn blow as arrows from afar rained down upon the unfortunate merchant caravan. He watched as the girl, along with others who Wendell hadn’t even spotted, rushed out of their hiding spots with stone daggers and wooden spears. They charged at the level 5 adventurers and quickly overwhelmed them with their superior numbers. The most horrid thing of all was that Wendell heard the screams of the dying men as their blood spilled on the ground. Even the level 1 merchant who wielded no weapon was cut down as he tried to beg for his life.

After the massacre was over, Wendell saw as they looted the bodies before tossing them in a pile. Next, they grabbed what they could from the captured wagon before they released the animals that were attached to them. It was here that Wendell noticed that they had a leader. One of the men had gray whiskers and all the rest seemed to show deference to him. Perhaps, these creatures have an elder, Wendell mused. It made sense as well given that he was a rank 20 Earth Mage while all the rest were below rank 10.

With their ill gotten loot in hand, the catfolk began to leave even deeper into the forest. Wendell knew he had to follow if he was to learn more. He stayed as far back as he could and several times he thought that they had noticed him. He was confident that he could take a few of them in a fight, but in total, he saw twelve fighters. If they spotted him, he doubted he’d be able to make it back to his red horse in time.

After a few minutes, he saw the makeshift camp they had set up. There were even more of them. There must be at least thirty of them, Wendell thought. Why, though? As he went through the possible reasons, something hard struck the back of his head and the world swung around until it turned black.

When he woke, it was night and the large moon filled the sky with a heavenly light. He felt the dried blood on the back of his head before he felt the many eyes on him. When he looked around, the whole tribe were staring at him with suspicion etched across their faces. As he tried to move, he felt heavy binds around his ankles and wrists. “Fuck.” was all he could say.

“He’s awake,” he heard them whisper amongst themselves. “We should kill him now,” and “How did they find us?” were some of the more commonly repeated phrases they seemed to whisper. The gray elder walked up to him, his voice old but still strong. “Quiet. We shall talk to him before we commit to any course of action.”

Wendell rolled his eyes. This guy reminded him of his father trying to calm the villagers whenever there was a disaster. Perhaps their position wasn’t as secure as he had thought.

The elder turned his attention to Wendell. “How did you find us, stranger.”

Wendell looked around at the crowd. It took a few moments to find the girl he had followed. Without all the dirt rubbed on her, she had pale skin like the moon and hair the color of rubies. She was young, Wendell noticed. He gestured at her and the crowd's attention turned to her. This time he heard, “I knew Zyla wasn’t ready,” and “foolish girl” emitting from the audience. He laughed when the girl began to shy away from the attention of the onlookers.

He stopped laughing when he felt a heavy kick to his stomach. It left him reeling from the impact. A level 15 dark skinned male wielding a wooden spear stood over him. His long brown hair waved around as he spoke. “This human speaks nothing but lies. Let me put an end to his dishonesty.” The elder put a gentle hand on his shoulder and began to calm him down.

“Perhaps he is speaking wrongly of your daughter, but sometimes even truth can come from falsities.” Wendell continued to gasp for air as he clutched his side. The elder at least waited until the pain went away from him before he continued his questioning. “Does anyone know that you are here?”

Wendell replied with a defiant look in eyes. “My father is the Duke of the Ardent and you are all trespassers. Once he doesn’t hear from me, he will send high ranking soldiers and knights down the road to find me. I don’t know who I pity more: those of you who will be killed in the fighting or those who will be sold to the slavers.” The truth was that his father would never know what fate would befall his son this deep in the woods. Wendell hoped they wouldn’t figure that out.

His plan seemed to work well. The mob began to get closer as they screamed and pushed at each other. Wendell was almost sure that they would lynch him right then and there. Eventually though, they calmed down.

“How do we know you are telling the truth?” the elder asked, his gray whiskers hiding all emotion.

“Check the pommel of the sword that you stole. It bears the symbol of a wooden shield. That is the symbol of the Luthen clan. You can find that my leather tunic bears the symbol as well.” They quickly shoved him on the ground as they verified what he had said to be true. Finally, the elder sighed. He looked defeated and stressed from the new development.

“You may kill him now, Mason,” he said. Wendell watched as he turned away. The dark skinned man began to ready his spear.

“Wait!” Wendell roared. “Release me, and I swear you shall never see me again.” The tribe leader made no indication of stopping the execution. Wendell was determined to survive at least one day on his own. “I know why you are in these lands!” he declared in a last ditch attempt to live. With surprising speed, the tribe elder was suddenly right next to him, staring deeply into Wendell’s brown eyes.

“And why is that?” he asked. At this proximity, Wendell for the first time saw that his ears were scarred and torn.

“We both desire for the lands of Hearth.”

Note: Mages are known to be avid book collectors who walk from town to town searching for rare texts to purchase.