“If only events would reach their ideal conclusion young Erres.”
The armored behemoth laid down the titanic blade—if one could call it such, upon the young lord standing proud before him. Erres caught the fall of the sword with his own, his foot shifting underneath and cracking the ground below as he held steadfast against the overwhelming might. His hand shot forth, reinforcing his blade with a shove to ward off the slab-like sword.
“We have no choice but to focus on the task at hand.” Erres' chest pounded as he caught his breath, the red glow within his dark armor breathing with him. “As much as it pains me to let chaos run rampant, showing our intent too early will cost us in the long run. My officers are on their guard, and it won't be long before Talian pinpoints a source of these woes.”
“Again.” The black slab came down once more, caught by Erres' blade once more. A struggling heave bellowed from both armors. With a slight twist of Erres' foot, he shoved the blade back and over Valen’s shoulder while cratering the stone beneath his own feet. Valen let go of his blade as it flung back and up into the air, crashing down into the ground behind him.. “Your passion fuels your strength Erres, but I would advise as always you not let it cloud your decisions.” Valen took two steps back toward his blade, clasping a hand around its handle and tearing it from the ground.
“I'm not the leader my father was.” Erres plunged his sword into the ground and leaned over it as a makeshift support. “If I was we wouldn't have this issue with the other lords.”
“On the contrary, it's because you are the young Lord Erres that it is exactly why this has become the issue. None feared their father like they fear you. He was indeed an excellent man and leader, and while he held the title 'Conqueror,' he was much more a peacemaker. You on the other hand…” Valen made slow steps back over to the Lord lost in thought during his respite, swiping sideways with both hands. Erres tilted his weight against the sword, holding steady enough to briefly halt the massive swipe, launching into the with a discharge of fire beneath his feet and pulling his sword with him.. An ensuing blanket of fire enveloped a midair swing, billowing against the slab with such force it guaranteed no reprisal. “Your instinct, your fury, and your compassion are the makings of a true conqueror my lord.”
With grace, Erres landed on his feet and let out a silent breath, the red hue from within his armor dimming. “I refuse to accept that title until I see my father avenged. Once I see the our eastern lands painted with Raom's blood, then can there be a new conqueror.”
“That Farra is the harbinger of a bloody chapter, never when I first laid my eyes upon her would I fathom such a notion. Yet she has so gleefully basked in our knowledge and ways, taken upon herself our cause, and molded herself to your desires.” Valen laid his blade to the ground, leaning down and seating himself beside the standing Erres, nearly rising to the young lord's height even while sitting. The giant turned as he heard a curious laughter.
“A rare occurrence of an incorrect observation by you I’d say. It's probably more apt to say she's the one who molded me. To find someone so determined and so—pure. It holds me accountable, and she knows it just as well as I.” Erres shifted his blade lodged in stone, leaning over with his helm pressed against it.
“Pure you say? What about her necessitates her being pure, young Erres?”
“She's open, she wears herself on her sleeve. Her loyalty to me is paramount over all else, but once you venture beyond that, she's as straight and honest as could be. The only people that would be afraid of her are fools or enemies. This land, despite being how cursed it is, fails to so much as damper her resolve. If there's one thing about her raising I can regret, it's her inability for the more casual conversation.”
Valen looked forward from his lord, one mighty greave emitting a soft glow and creating a path of iced ground forward from it. In front of both the lords, the ice built upwards into the air. A detailed and perfect replica of the feirin effused a distinct cold air, chilling the surroundings. “She has the capacity to hold a conversation. Perhaps what you mean is her ability to understand the sentiments of others.” The black diamond-shaped helmet tilted to its other side. “But such a thing could easily be blamed upon her circumstance. Her childhood instilled in her fears and caution instead of joy or warmth. Her start in the War Faction was marked with a taste in harsh realities that only ingrained the need for strength. Had Verrika not perished, then Farra might have become every bit of what you originally envisioned.”
“Yet she did. And with it maybe the last opportunity at a more innocent outlook for Farra was vanquished. Teilve did what he could concerning her emotions, but his efforts amounted to becoming only another individual Farra felt comfortable sharing parts of herself with.” Erres picked his blade from the ground, clenching the handle tight before hurling it past the ice statue and against the ground, ravaging the stone into bits of gravel. But the sculpture remained unscathed despite the debris, standing and gazing back toward the lords.
“Would that not contradict her being pure?” Valen touched a hand to the ground, a platform of stone erected underneath Erres' blade, shifting back along the ground and delivering the blade to its owner.
“Don't mistake some idea of innocence or unyielding optimism with Farra's pureness. She's no fool who tries to conduct herself in a manner clashing with this world, but at the same time, she doesn't give a single step she truly believes unnecessary.”
“Then if an occasion rose that tested her judgment?”
“Irrelevant in the sense that a misstep would mean an unconscionable decision. We have limited knowledge. But it would test her certainly.”
Valen lifted himself from the ground, grabbing his sword along the way and hoisting it onto his back. “She is a fine soldier. Shall we conclude training your strength for today?”
Erres stayed still, gazing into the icy replica of his subordinate. The ice emitted a gentle glow from the magic used to conjure it in the same likeness of which Verrika once employed. He stared into the statue's glistening eyes, emitting a shine that the lord felt still did his trusted soldier an injustice. But he stared back. It was someone like this who so passionately followed him and someone like this he had every responsibility to become a proper leader for. Even if it was not Farra, there were numerous other soldiers who looked to Erres as a beacon of strength. The course was set for him.
“This affair in the southern territory comes at an inopportune time. Farra’s assignment cannot afford delay. Pulling Gare or Teilve from their investigations of Bathalian’s territory and the numerous points of interest would deprive us of valuable intelligence. Bathalian will be ever more discrete than Raom in concealing her treachery and could potentially put Farra in greater risk.”
“Let us draw from my territory then. While it seems pitting those magically gifted against this unknown enemy can prove dangerous, we cannot treat it as cause to relegate our forces away from our frontlines. Give Tsaren and the Warlords leave to procure the supplies and soldiers from my territory that they deem necessary for aiding Lord Mellor so we may continue our business with peace of mind.”
“I will need to meet with the Warlords before paying a brief visit to an outpost in my territory in that case. But then before that, a meal with Tsaren to discuss Lord Mellor’s situation.”
“Then I shall stroll around the grounds while contemplating our direction.”
The air temple ground's mess hall was stained with a range of stenches, from the profuse sweat and odors of numerous races that dined there to fledgling spellweavers who had attempted to fight the smell with spells designed to induce various scents. The hall’s stone tables showed signs of cracking along their jagged edges, with the seats themselves carrying blemishes that would scrape at those whose skin was exposed. Baskets lie on each table, full of rocks which had all expired their life cycle in providing the tiniest illumination. Mighty stone pillars supported the structure; chipped, scraped, and slashed by past antics. The magical stones secured to these pillars had not yet gone out, but the meager light they provided was fruitless in illuminating the hall. Soldiers thus needed a means of procuring their own light when eating, if they did not prefer to eat in the darkness.
“You ought to consider the amenities more. I'll ask you the same things I asked Farra before she left. What good is a soldier without a fight? What purpose do soldiers have to even fight when there's nothing to gain from it? We are the War Faction, but what happens when the time for war is over?” Tsaren tapped his spoon against his bowl's edge, taking a breath and clicking his tongue before consuming another spoonful of rationing.
Aside from the echoing vibrations from the stones adorning the pillars, the conversation between the two men was the only source of noise in the empty hall. They ate with their helmets off, within the light of a stone lit ablaze by Erres himself. The flame made the young lord's calm and crimson eyes gleam. Tsaren himself dragged his gauntlets through his short and fraying hair. The fire gave Tsaren's dark face a glow as he peered into Erres' eyes with his gaunt face.
“The question of what next is something I have no answer to. But nor is it something we should concern ourselves with when we are still fighting for survival.”
“You answer just like Farra.” Tsaren dropped his spoon into the bowl, slapping a hand over his forehead before turning back to his bowl. “You are not a soldier like Farra though, you are a Lord, and should anything befall our Warlords, you need to be prepared to take the mantle. That doesn't mean doing everything perfect, but it does mean becoming a mediator. And before you say a word about it, I don't mean in regards to Lords Raom or Bathalian, but whomever else may show.”
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Erres' silence continued. His eyes drifted down for a brief moment to a dry tuber. Its stems tangled around it in an unappetizing discord. Erres’ spoon drifted over each stem, washed but still darkened with black particles. With a deep breath he split the tuber in two, uttering a word before shoveling the smaller half of the tuber into his mouth. ”Continue.”
Tsaren set his empty bowl to the side, folding his arms and leaning back from the blaze.
“Let me share my perspective as a quartermaster Lord Erres. Soldiers from the various territories aren't so keen as to who I am or my role; they openly speak of their miseries. What I see is men and women disheartened over having to consume the same meager meal because we not only cannot afford to give anymore, we lack any variety. I see them disillusioned because they have to eat in an antiquated structure such as this, tainting their meals with a vile odor. I see the soldiers fret when their preferred belonging or trinket wears, because the chances we have any replacement or means to repair it are the same as grass starting to sprout across these lands. But these soldiers aren't idiots either; they're not brilliant in combat or possess uncanny potential for magic, but they certainly aren't idiots. They've seen the consequences of Lady Bathalian's visits, Lord Raom's absences, the continued bickering among lords and consequently among officers. It leads them to question the direction of the War Faction and whether they're surviving for the opportunity at a better life. The Warlords have remained quiet about the matter, too long in my opinion as they know. But you are the most brazen and spontaneous of all the Lords, and all the more confusing for it. They see your youth and fiery ambition, and hear your expectations. Soldiers feel change in the air, but they have no clue of what sort it might be. These are the things as a leader and as a future Warlord that you need to address. Otherwise uniting the territories as it was meant to be is hopeless. Whether Lord Raom lies to the east or in a bizarre circumstance Lady Farra comes to be, the Lords are defined by the actions of their soldiers. Unless you have proper answers in store, Farra could do no better at governing the eastern territory than Lord Raom does now.”
Erres spoon let forth a loud crack as it smashed against the bowl, slicing another part of the tuber, eating and mulling over Tsaren's words.
“You have too many asides Tsaren.” He muttered between the movements of his jaw, swallowing down the dry root and setting aside the empty bowl. “But I understand the sentiment. Perhaps not with the gravity I should in regards to how soldiers regularly feel about it. Let me speak hypothetically for a moment. If these lands were united, what do you think would be the next course of action?”
Tsaren chuckled under his breath, taking Erres bowl to stack with his own, looking into the glowing flame. “Something involving getting food that doesn't turn my stomach into iron Lord Erres. But I imagine that wouldn't be the case in this hypothetical.”
“There isn't anything saying it couldn't be something on the side. But the darkness is an ever-present feeling. I would prefer the faction to not tear itself apart from the inside before it has the opportunity to confront its true enemy.”
“As would we all, but you can only tell someone to endure suffering for so long.” Tsaren shook his head,
Erres took his helmet, pulling it back over his head and extinguishing the flame. “There is something I need you to help take care of on that note.” Erres pulled from the waist-side a scroll bound with twine, sliding it across the table. “It's a letter detailing some recommendations for what I'm about to tell you, but how to handle it is up to your discretion. I'll be headed to the temple with Lord Valen to discuss the matter in detail with our Warlords, but time is no luxury here.”
“You could have at least let the flame burn a bit longer so I could read it then,” Tsaren scoffed. He set the bowls to the edge of the table, taking his helmet and waving Erres to the entrance. “Then what is it?”
“It concerns Lord Mellor. I've received a rather grim report from Farra regarding forces she was informed to be nightmarish creatures surging around the borders of the southern territory. Because of how things are progressing at the moment, I have little aid to lend. That may change in a matter of moons, but it's a problem that can't be ignored in the meantime. The Warlords themselves will see what forces can be spared, but within this scroll is a list of goods you can procure from Lord Valen's stores both on the grounds and his territory that the two of us think may prove useful. You spoke of need for soldiers to have something to look to after the battle is done; for now I need them to fight valiantly and aid their brothers and sisters in arms.”
As Erres finished his words, both exited the hall onto one of the lower bluffs of the temple grounds, turning to find a giant standing over the both of them.
“It must have been a leisurely meal. Though I doubt more so than my stroll. My officers have been notified and are ready to comply with yours and the Warlords’ requests Tsaren. While the resources are certainly valuable both within these grounds and my territory, I may suggest excessive caution on the part of the quantity of supplies you send, if there is such a thing.”
“I'll peruse the letter and see to it at once Lords.”
A stillness enveloped the temple grounds when they parted ways, filled most by Valen's rhythmic and almost mechanical steps. Rather than immediately setting toward Belthemot's temple, the two lords skirted toward the edge of the bluff, taking winding roads and staircases that met with the edge of the promenade.
“How went your walk?”
“Elucidating. It is in torrential times that one turns inward to reflect upon where fate has led oneself. Though I follow your course regardless of where it leads us young Erres, the chaos and conflict has required me to introspect and explore the meaning events bear on my past. One whose inner turmoils are not sorted cannot hope to achieve their full potential.” Valen tapped a finger to his helmet, creating a hollow clink as they continued forward. “The present track is obvious enough, though where it may take us I am not certain. Farra has become a joy through which I can pass my knowledge, and it is the passage of knowledge that satisfies a teacher most. And it is my life that I have committed to your cause, for I took an oath to your father in protecting you in your endeavors.”
Quiet set back in with neither lord rushing to fill the silence. Instead Valen stopped, his body turning toward the grounds and his very own tower. Erres took a few more steps forward before halting, waiting for his fellow lord to gather his words and keep pace with him.
“It proves difficult to recollect my past prior to arriving in these lands, even when I know it to be what led me here. But I suppose it began as it would for so many, the death of a loved one.” A gentle breeze picked up, blowing throughout the grounds and lifting a layer of dirt from the soiled ground onto the stone pathway, obscuring the stone until it was no longer discernible. “It was my wife's premature death, a tragic one I could attribute to no individual. I could only lash at fate and curse the gods themselves. It brought me on the path of my research into the arcane and forbidden. I was consumed with grief, clinging to the hope to one day find the means to give my wife new life. But it would seem somewhere along that path I had a misstep and found myself in these lands.”
“One could safely assume you were a chosen. It makes no difference to me. Here you are attempting to help forge the path forward rather than decry the accursed for a circumstance they cannot help.” Erres stepped back from the walkway, moving to Valen's side, overlooking the edge of the bluff alongside him.
“Tell me young Erres, what do you know of history of this faction's making? It was not long ago. Yet—this world has a habit of distorting the agency of time. My existence prior to coming here feels nothing unlike another life.”
Erres let out a scoff. “You either are letting your age show, or your mind has become overwhelmed with your duties and runes to not recall my raising. My father focused on training my skills with a blade, lessons of history were secondary.”
“Perhaps you are right in the latter regard, all this movement of late is certainly distracting. Your father was perhaps counting on myself and what he felt the other wisdom of the War Faction to be at the time in raising your wits. I find it humorous.” A deep bellow followed by a gale of wind, combating the breeze filled the air. “Warlord Ranalian always had a penchant for legends and rumors. These very darkened and bloody lands we now lay claim to, there was a beautiful irony within them, that despite lacking an apparent blessing of the very moonlight, were somehow free from the ravenous pestering of the darkness. Ravenous I say it was, but at the time it was far less prevalent, almost as if complacent with the current state of this world. These lands lacked order, but provided a meager shelter and state of living. For those willing to throw the necessities of the body away, they found a suitable place here. For those unwilling, at least they could attempt to survive, often resorting to bloodshed to endure. But it was Warlord Ranalian who put thought into the matter, and journeyed westward to the place these temple grounds were erected upon, finding a blade enshrined within the highest bluff. That is where with great hardship, the temple was erected.”
“And tell me, how does this relate to the other Lords and Warlord Nirkosh?”
“Through the very fabric that now holds together the War Faction. A common purpose and unity, as simple as the goal of survival may be. It was because the lands were characterized by their battle and bloodshed that the title of War Faction echoed throughout these lands. At first many nomads and tribes thought it a force merely out to conquer under a fearsome title. But with the combined hands of mine, your father, and Warlord Ranalian's, we surged across the territories in a nigh divine crusade. It was in this endeavor, we would meet the valiant and mighty Warlord Nirkosh, who proved the better warrior than any of us individually, but not combined. We defeated and granted him the highest title of Warlord alongside his elf brethren. Until that point, Warlord Ranalian had felt myself or your father should stand as the sole Warlord. But it was his belief that brought the War Faction to its birth, and Nirkosh's staggering might as an adversary—it felt appropriate to us for him to join hands with Ranalian in an effort for unity.”
“Unity was the correct decision, was it not?”
“Undoubtedly so.”
“Tell me, how strong was my father back then?”
“The strongest of us all. For all our wisdom and Warlord Nirkosh's might, your father alone carried the benign charisma that could bring the hearts of peoples together. Our Warlords took the mantle upon themselves so your father would not have to, and could instead do what he set himself upon, leading our soldiers. But I fear that answer hinged upon your words just now. For 'back then' is not the same as the now. These lands have become more violent and tension has risen. We find new sources of strength to have the chance at combating stronger foes. I have since saturated myself in power as a means to reinforce our standard. I am never too thankful for Farra, who has tragically accepted a path of what feels may lead to endless violence, taking the steps necessary to stand alongside us.”
Erres stepped from the cliff, waving Valen to follow.
“You never did offer much justification for deciding to augment Farra so quickly. Let's go, we've delayed meeting with the Warlords.”
“She showed herself to be loyal as any could ever prove, I did not want her earnest wishes to perish, and with it you acquired a true companion.” Valen obliged the motion stepping forth with a smack against the stone pathway, the force of his step blowing away all the dust that had come to soil the pathway.