[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1112185613685358642/1166766884356624495/image.png?ex=654baf56&is=65393a56&hm=2239ec9d18700f5e4a91b112dfc8a62af83959c36528afdc0aa54baae2b0e13e&]
Pt. V
Geon gives meditation another shot because the sun is coming and the only other thing he has to do is run the camp. Every morning rain or shine since this march started he has tried and failed to stop the ever-flowing stream of thoughts in his head. And now, five lengths to the blight, in a far less picturesque environment, he is managing just about the same, badly. They could take the edge of the swamp in less than one turn. He can even smell it from his perch on the trunk of an old-growth oak. Stench like soured eggs. Millions of them. Covering everything. He has told his squad to ignore it and eventually, they will get used to it. That, evidently, was a lie because it’s as bad this morning as when they arrived weeks ago.
Yes, weeks and he had yet to figure out a real solution beyond attempting to take the pigman’s head. And he can’t get used to the idea of finishing his life as a remiges on some faraway island merchant run. He gets seasick just thinking about the salt water taste on his lips and the constant sway and splash of being on the ocean.
Rustling of a bush behind him and he knows the sun knight is approaching. He’s been following her progress since she left camp. He knew she would eventually find him here. She does every morning after she scouts the swamp edge. He has been also. It is not confidence-boosting. Mangled gear and the occasional body part sans body, it would seen the swamp was good at cleaning up after its premiere guest, but little interest was shared on the weapons and armor that lay strewn about. Geeon surmises every single missing person’s case in the last six moon cycles could be solved in this place.
Geon sits on his new bear skin cape. A cleaned and salt-cured strip awarded to them all to do with as they wished. Geon opted for a cloak, double lined. The shaved skin was rubbery and neigh impenetrable doubled up. Manifred had to remake a couple of blades out of the broken ones to finish the job.
He decides enough is enough with meditation turns to face the holy warrior of another god, The SunGod, who favors direct approaches. Lighting wrongs. Being a beacon for hope and prosperity. Geon found her mostly annoying especially since she won’t stop insisting that it is time to move or she and her partner are going to move without them. Geon isn’t sure they could all survive a confrontation let alone separately and he has told her so. He is waiting for a metaphorical break in the storm that was their adversary. Pure chaos who haunts the edges of the swamp so perfectly nothing gets in and nothing gets out. They’ve tried to lure him out several times. He’ll throw things. Boulders, dead bull-bears, giant lizards, but he won’t come himself.
But so aware of each other as they are Geon can sense the beast staring at him, even now, from the black shadows five miles on.
Laurel pushes the last few branches aside and approaches. And she is a breathtaking specimen of human warrior in her linen subligaculumn. Geon pretends not to notice but he would have her in his unit any day. Would probably give her a patrol all her own. Her sandalled feet are dusty and she is still sweating and breathing hard from her morning run. Geon tried to run his soldiers with her one morning, but after length twenty and with no sign of slowing he turned them back more than a little impressed.
Thirty minutes after they returned to camp exhausted having run over forty lengths, she arrived laughing, “Nothing tires a Sunknight especially when challenged.”
The patrol gave her much respect after that, could even say she was adopted as a member of the guard. A prestigious honor, especially for one who has claimed such a posting would be a demotion.
Her God has many names, but most commonly he is called Aaron. He is rumored to have walked among his people many times. Any time a priestess ends up pregnant the joke is Aaron visited. Depending on who told it, it could be quite hilarious. Geon is certain Lauren’s reaction would not be friendly. He knows she and the snail-mancer are a couple and only cares as so far as it affects them in combat. It was a fun conversation when he told them he thought it best to go home.
“The Princess died. She was buried. The king is the brat on the throne, like it or not. The King’s guard will ensure that this doesn’t change easily.” It was a thinly veiled threat because in all honesty he isn’t sure if he would delay pulling his blade or not in the face of an assassin. If he could change the reality Balanor faced not break his oath to Moroden, he would. He can’t even control the type of mission he brings his soldiers on when his oath is bespoke.
The bear was fun. In fact, all the provisioning has been the easiest part. The purple mountain foothills were fertile. Hunts and gathering expeditions were more than fruitful. And the mancer’s skills were much appreciated. Fishing and herb gathering and preparing simple but delicious meals, he wishes ever patrol had their like. The problem was they were growing antsy.
Deciding how best to accomplish this, not that, was taking a long time
The pigman itself is death, but through some scouting and skulking Geon has learned there are even more issues to contend with, some no longer living. Yet, the king is owed his oath and Geon knows will bring back the baker alive, or die trying.
“We beg your Ser Geon’s forgiveness. She says upon approach. She is stoic and her tone is anything but apologetic. He can’t imagine a moment this person has ever apologized in anything more than politeness. “Might today be the day we breach the swamp? We feel time is running short.”
“You can’t believe the princess is in the swamp.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“We do.”
“You have nothing but dreams to support this and I personally attended her burial.”
“It was an empty coffin they buried, how could you be so sure.”
“The coffin will be dug up and reburied with her in it if her remains are ever found.”
“As if that settles things. Smanth had another dream last night! Time is running short. She knows ways to heal her before the poison sets in too deeply.”
He doesn’t want to be here anyway. To add more exploration before he breaches the swamp is tactically sound. “We still need a plan for this impossibility called a pigman. What is our snailmancer idea? I am willing to listen, but I might still insist we bide our time.?”
Then the memory surfaces when he told his king no, also. “The King’s Guard should not be wasted on this task. There only risk in killing something hunting in the swamp.”
“Bring him back!” The newly crowned king throws his septer and a tantrum. The bejeweled ornament clunks to the floor near Geon's steel-covered boot a few of the jewel coming undone and clittering away on the floor. He had considered stomping on the remaining portion as a show of insolence but was able to quickly stow the intention. Instead he sighed.
The former prince was a brat. Becoming king did not change that. The treason, At the very least he and his mother, the second-wife, committed, the rumor being they killed the princess and fed her body to the ocean. Can he prove it? Not even a little bit. And he won’t try. His job is not to question the divinity of the throne, but to protect it. If they found the girl or her body they could tell more but in the meantime, Geon knows not making waves and doing what he is told is key.
“I will not commit suicide. I did not sign up to throw away good men for a shitty cause.” He briefly wonders if he has a bigger oath to his soldiers than he does to the king. But knows the answer like Moroden whispered it into his ear, no, your oath is to the crown.
Your king sits the throne. The throne sits the king, words uttered almost two centuries before.
“Swear to me on your oath. Swear to me or I’ll,” the king paused a look crossing his fat face like he might have just shit himself. “No… I won’t kill you. Fossils like you live forever anyway.”
He waved his hand as if even the idea was a waste of time and effort. “No, I have just thought of a brilliant punishment for you if you don’t bring back my baker.” He pauses as if to build up the suspense, but Geon already knows. It’s his classic go to punishment for any dwarf. He has seen it many times already in the portion of the year he and his mother took over the land. “I will banish you to sea. I will put you on my farthest flung vessel. You’ll either drown or turn into a barnacle, but you will never see your precious King’s Guard again. Your precious Balanor. Your precious Purple Mountains and incestual drunkard kin that foul up the caves hogging all that yummy gold,” he pouts. “Yes, I know about your fire-ale. And how you refuse to share it. Swear on your oath. Bring down your god’s light and swear on your oath. I want to see your trick with the light. Show it to me. Now!” he screams face purple like the mountain.
The quickest way out of the throne room was to agree. If he stayed another second, there might not be any need for a King’s Guard because he was going violate his oath anyway and kill the king. Instead, he did as asked and pledged on his god and his holy oath and brought down Moroden’s radiance.
He had hoped he could get the baker’s wife to cancel the search. Only their marriage vows to Moroden superseded the king’s. Love trumps always had always will. He would still be punished for failing the king but at least he would be okay with his God before his neck was stretched or he manned anoar for the rest of his years.
But she was too busy to take that burden off him, “do whatcha will paladin,” and then slammed the door in his face.
He tells this all to her again, finishing with, “Are you already tired of our hospitality?” Manfred is turning out to be a fair squire. He has made training for this battle almost enjoyable, to have tea waiting and clean clothes even given the swamp is only about an hour away is a Winter Feast miracle.
Laurel turns her face to the swamp, “Time is growing short. Smanth dreams every night the princess is close to being too far gone to help.”
“It won’t matter if we go in early and die, a battle is never won by being ignorant of an enemy.”
“What do you need to know? We go in and hack the fiend to little pieces save the princess and head back to Capitol City heroes.”
“For one reason only, SunKnight. I need the pig alive.”
“Madness!”
The caw of a pink, mostly featherless bird, startles Lauren and they both look over to see Smanth standing near a dead tree watching them talk. He stares at the bird making for the rising sun struggling with every flap of its wings like it were about to die. Its wings, the only part of its body not pink, seem to be covered in oily plumage and slaps in a sickly manner like flight should be far beyond its ability. Unnerved, Geon Iis almost happy to find Samanth conjures a small snail and fires it at the bird, striking it dead center of its chest.
The bird squawks loudly and leaves a blob of brown fecal matter falling to the ground and a loud screech that rends the air before disappearing beyond the treeline.
“Neat trick,” Geon notes but before any other conversation could be had, Stephen bursts into the clearing from the direction he was tasked to scout.
“An army is coming. Almost 500 men, armor, almost no horse. They even have a fire cannon.”
“What flag do they fly?”
“They fly a white flag.”
“White?”
“They look hurt. There are a lot of them walking with limps. No horse, except the two pulling the cannon. The whole column barely makes 5 miles a day.”
“How far are they now?”
“I think they’ll set up camp a mile West.”