The carriage fell silent. Lucien didn’t respond, neither did the commander expect him to. He knew when it was best to give someone some peace and quiet.
The carriage barely rattled as it drove down the ever busy streets. A testament to both the quality of the roads and the make of the carriage itself.
There was a seemingly never-ending stream of people passing through outside the carriage. But despite that, the journey continued steadily with minimal delays.
Looking through the window, Lucien spotted a second, smaller set of walls almost as domineering as the one surrounding the entire city.
Just like the first, it was made of a near-black stone that could be manipulated by the city’s magicians for any manner of purposes.
The tall battlements provided protection from which the archers could rain down arrows on their enemies.
Holes could be made anywhere in the wall from which soldiers could launch surprise attacks before being quickly returned to normal.
The wall was both a strong defensive tool, and a powerful weapon.
And within that set of walls was a towering fortress where the military academy presided and from which Lord Whitmore ruled.
The carriage stopped at the gate for a moment, but was let through when Commander Roth flashed his insignia.
The area beyond the gate was quiet. Almost dreadfully so. As if it was completely devoid of life.
It lacked the hustle and bustle that the rest of the city had. The only signs of life being the patrolling groups of guards and the occasional person walking to wherever they needed to be at a fast pace.
Lining the streets were countless defensive points from which soldiers could safely fend off attackers.
Lucien found it almost unnecessary. He couldn’t imagine anything being able to get past the walls. Whether it be man or monster, it didn’t matter. This fortress was impenetrable in his eyes.
But, it was never a bad thing to have more options at your disposal.
As the carriage drew closer to its destination, it left these defensive fortifications behind and drove past a wide-open training field. And the quiet was replaced by the rhythmic sounds of swords clashing against shields.
Rows of soldiers in simple training gear stood facing each other. One row held swords and attacked, while the other defended with their shields. After several hits, the people attacking and defending swapped.
Several sets of such rows were scattered across a part of the field, while the rest of the space was used for other forms of training.
There were soldiers practicing their shield walls against archers with blunted arrows. Soldiers casting magic either at a range or onto their weapons whilst practicing on targets and training dummies. And so much more.
The constant thudding of arrows, clashing of blades, and swishing of magic reminded him of a grander version of back home.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he was here for something else, he would be tempted to join them. Just to feel the warmth of training amongst his fellow soldiers again.
The carriage continued driving without a care for his thoughts however, eventually stopping out front of a tall set of stairs leading to an arched door.
"Leave your things here."
Commander Roth exited the carriage and beckoned for Lucien to join him as he climbed the stairs. The stairs didn’t pose much of a challenge for them due to their health, so it only took them a moment to reach the doors.
“Commander Roth. You’ve returned.” The doors were opened from the inside as a butler stepped forward and bowed.
“We need to see Lord Whitmore.”
The butler looked Lucien up and down for a moment before nodding and turning around. “Please follow me.”
The butler led them inside to the great hall and up the main staircase. Crossing through several halls decorated with paintings, weapons, and suits of armour, they were led to a door at the end of a corridor.
The butler knocked on the door then stepped to the side, patiently awaiting a response.
“What is it?” A booming gravelly voice asked from the other side of the door.
“Commander Roth has returned and wishes to see you,” the butler responded.
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“Send him in.”
The butler opened the door, bowing to Commander Roth as he gestured for them to go inside. And as soon as they did, he closed the door behind them.
The room was simply adorned without much embellishment.
The western wall was an open arch that led out to a balcony that overlooked the training grounds below.
Bookshelves and cabinets lined the eastern wall, containing things from books on history, combat, and finance, to various commemorative and old weapons. Much like the rest of the keep, the decor leant itself to a more military feel.
The only bit of art in the room was a large painting on the wall opposite the door. In the painting, there was a man standing atop the head of a dragon, his sword thrust directly into its eye as the dragon fell to the ground and let out one final roar.
The painting managed to showcase the size and scale of the dragon, while also not losing out on any of the details of the man. Looking at the man’s face, Lucien felt a nagging sense of familiarity, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
The painting was so detailed and realistic that Lucien almost felt like he could hear the dragon’s roar. It almost forced him to take a step back, but he caught himself and turned his attention elsewhere.
There was a long table in the centre covered by two maps. One of the region, and one of the entire Kingdom of Rodderus.
A lean, but muscular man of average height was standing in front of the map of the region with his back turned to the door.
He had short, cropped brown hair and was wearing a black military coat with red trimmings. A longsword hung at his waist.
Lord Whitmore was 56 years old, almost a decade older than Lucien. Considering the high average life expectancy in the kingdom of Roddarus, assuming that he doesn’t die in battle or contract some strange incurable illness, he could still live for a good 50 to 70 years.
Commander Roth half-bowed to the man, maintaining etiquette despite the man not being able to see it. “A guard has arrived from the south with news regarding the recent bandit attacks.”
Lord Whitmore turned around at this, his strong brown eyes locking onto Lucien.
His face had a sharp and refined look about it. He had a strong jaw line, a streamlined nose, and two sword like eyebrows.
Lucien knelt and lowered his head, fully aware of his lower status when compared to both of these men.
“Rise,” Lord Whitmore commanded simply.
Lucien stood up and looked at him. The pressure he had felt seemed to ease up a little as he did so.
Both Lord Whitmore and Commander Roth were now looking at Lucien, waiting for him to give his report.
“I’m not quite sure when this group of bandits first came about. There were a few attacks here and there, but they weren’t too serious. At least, in the beginning, they weren’t. It ramped up and some places got hit hard, but the worst of it happened on the 13th of the month of change...”
Lucien told them the story of what happened to Locham that day, exactly how he remembered it. No details were left out. He told them everything in remarkable detail, making them feel like they could see it.
Even for people as experienced with war and bloodshed as them, it was a difficult thing for them to swallow. Especially because it was their responsibility to make sure things like this didn’t happen. And they had failed.
When it got to the part about Uther’s death, there was a change on Lord Whitmore’s face. His eyes were no longer focused, and he looked just a touch paler. His fists were clenched so tight that his fingers popped, sounding like the blast of a cannon in the quiet stillness of the room.
The room fell silent after Lucien finished talking, just like every other time he told this story.
Lord Whitmore turned around and placed his hands on the table, his knuckles whitening. He held his head up, looking up at the man in the painting.
Seeing this, neither Lucien nor Commander Roth spoke, wanting to give him time.
He stayed there for several moments before sighing and slumping into a nearby chair. He no longer had the bearing that he had when Lucien first entered. He no longer felt like a powerful lord.
“Roth, go find the commander who’ll be in charge of this expedition and tell them what you heard here. They’ll need all the information they can get,” Lord Whitmore said.
“Of course, Sir.” Commander Roth bowed and left.
Lucien also bowed and turned to leave, but was stopped when Whitmore continued speaking.
“Stay here Lucien.”
I never told him my name. Lucien was stunned for a moment, his mind racing.
“Come. Have a seat.”
Lucien unconsciously followed the command, his body sensing no ill intent or malice, while his mind continued to try and understand what was going on. A look of confusion evident on his face.
Seeing this, Lord Whitmore smiled. A half-smile, as if he didn’t have the energy to do the full thing. “You think I wouldn’t be able to recognise you?” He looked back up at the painting “He talked about you a lot, you know?”
Lucien followed his gaze back to the painting, where his thoughts finally clicked together and he realised why the man in the painting felt so familiar. “That’s Uther, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure he told you the story as well. The one of him slaying a dragon. I wasn’t alive to see it, but my father was a soldier under his command when it happened. My family had this painting commissioned and we’ve kept it here as a reminder of what we’re fighting for.”
Lucien listened on quietly from the side, feeling a sense of kinship with Lord Whitmore.
“I was his student in my younger years, before I entered the academy. My father may have been the one who showed me how to lift a sword, but he was the one that taught me how to wield it.
I shadowed him for a while after I graduated, but then I had to split away so that I could prove myself enough to lead this place in my father’s stead.”
He stopped for a moment with his eyes on the young Uther, before turning to look at Lucien. “He was always busy down on the border, but he always managed to make time to come and visit me.
He never failed to mention you. Not a single time since the first. I don’t think I’d ever seen him more proud of anything in his life. Even something as precious as a nineteen-pointed star medallion given by the king wasn’t as important to him.”
Lucien could see something in Lord Whitmore’s eyes. Jealousy? He wasn’t sure. It was too complicated for him to tell. But it was gone as soon as he saw it.
“What I’m trying to say is, you were like family to him. Meaning that you’re family to me. If there’s anything you need, I’ll see to it myself that it happens.”
This was the second time that someone had told him just how much he had meant to Uther, and it made Lucien’s chest tighten. He clutched at his chest with his remaining hand, taking deep breaths until the pain eased up ever so slightly.
“Thank you, I... I want to go back there.” Lucien walked to the balcony overseeing the training grounds below. He soaked in the faint sounds of clashing metal that could be heard even all the way up here.
“I want to join them.”