Prologue

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[Lady Eloith]

“We’ve seen troops moving on the eastern boarder m’ lady.”

“Garthian?” she asked back, eyes narrowing at the information that her head guard had relayed. If the Garthians had managed to muster up troops to the border so soon, it was concerning. Of course, Eloith wasn’t too worried yet, she had plenty of strategic depth to her lands, and the Garthians could burn it to ashes if they wanted to. There wasn’t much of importance, only a few farms and villages, populated by peasants. Nothing that she wasn’t happy to let go, it was an unproductive area. She’d win it back later, and new families of filthy peasants would call the land their own in time.

“We’re not sure m’ lady. But it appears likely. Especially considering the contents of that letter.” The guard replied.

“Yes, I imagine you’re right.” She mused, “the Garthian nobles have always had a penchant for plotting. Getting above their station, as all Garthians do…” Her head guard frowned: distaste evident. It was only then, that Eloith remembered his family hailed from ancient Garth. Oh well, she thought, dismissing it. If the low born wanted to get any ideas, she was sure she would be able to find a replacement. Though getting such a handsome one might be problematic. Regardless, an issue for another time.

“How’s the muster going?” She asked, moving on, her guard’s expression flattened again.

“Not as we expected m’ lady. The peasants have refused on many occasion and have banded together to prevent my men from doing their job.”

“Well, I expect some more force will do the trick. Bat them around a bit and they’ll fall in line. The spineless cowards always do.”

“As you wish, m’ lady”

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“I can see the distaste on your face guardsmen Morris, be sure to succeed for me. Too much distraction with the coming war and medicinal supplies could be interrupted.” She retorted, carefully measuring her words. He glared at her and she smiled, pleased to have hit the way she wanted to.

“Of course, m’ lady”

“You may leave, send guild master Tarrin in as you go.”

Morris bowed low and backed out of the room. Eloith heard a brief comment to the man waiting outside and then heavy steps as the armour man marched down the corridor and off to do his duty.

Guild master Tarrin walked up with soft steps, despite his considerable size. For the head of the blacksmiths guild he certainly wasn’t what you would expect. Sure, he was huge, but not in the bulky muscular way of the other blacksmiths. No Master Tarrin was fat and short, with a persistent bead of sweat rolling down his face.

As he approached, he drew out a soft silk rag and wiped his forehead. Eloith almost snorted in laughter at the fact, but managed to retain her composure, despite the humorous thoughts that circled her mind.

“Master Tarrin, greetings.” She spoke softly, betraying nothing of her actual thoughts of the man.

“M’ Lady. Everything goes well, the mines have surged in produce, with the influx of workers. Those indentured peasants were a fantastic idea m’ lady.” He replied pausing as if to expect praise. Eloith said nothing, and motioned for him to continue

“The increase in raw iron has meant my blacksmiths have continued to carry out your work. Excess even, and I have managed to produce nearly three quarters of the pikes that you require. In fact, it is the wooden hafts that are slowing down production.”

Eloith doubted that Tarrin had ever held a hammer, let alone stood next to a forge. Eloith remembered standing near one with her father, nearly sixty years ago, when she was but a wee child. A different life. Still, to this day she remembered the heat of the forges and master Tarrin did not look like a man who could withstand their heat for more than a second.

But he did good work, and no matter Eloith’s personal feelings on the man, loyalty and success were all that mattered to running her lands.

“Well done master Tarrin, you have exceeded my expectations, at least one of my staff has a good head on his shoulders and the ability to actually do the work. You’ll be rewarded.”

“Thank you, m’ lady. I am pleased to hear it…” he replied sycophantly, smiling sweetly. Eloith felt sick.

“You may leave…” she continued, eager to get him out of her presence.

Once master Tarrin turned his back, she let her smile fade away, glaring at the fat oaf as he walked out through the double doors.

War was coming to her lands and she needed to prepare…