"Aid? As you wish. Would a guard not attend this girl?" Bathalian called and turned about in elegance and disrespect. The sleeve of her flowing robe swooped after her. Farra turned to the wary Naia with a nod of her head, following after the Lady.
"I thank you for the consideration. Let us not be meek about it, neither of us care for one another Lady Bathalian, but I have come at the behest of the Warlords. I will conduct my business and be on my way." Both kept straight, neither glancing to the other to betray any thought. But it was here Farra could feel the twitch of Bathalian's movements, that she could feel the apprehension around the elf. "As it is the Warlord's orders, you know I should encounter no inconveniences in this endeavor."
"Then what of the eastern domain? I will not hamper your journey little girl, but if you believe you have the right of scouring and ravaging my domain as you please, I will face the council for the potential punishment of felling you." She took a deep breath that filled the dark. With only the gentle humming of torches, Bathalian's stronghold faced an eerie quiet within the darkness. Soldiers craned their heads toward their Lady and Farra walking, but upon recognizing the feirin, none dared venture closer.
It was apparent, that by some means Bathalian had ascertained what occurred moons prior, and might have elected to inform her soldiers to take a measure of caution. To them, Farra was the epitome of an enemy, a girl who could see all around her and pry into their secrets without their knowing, and was the trusted officer of their Lady's greatest thorn.
"I did not come here with such violent or coercive intent, Lady Bathalian. It seems word has reached you pertaining in part of what occurred in Raom's hold. But rest assured, it was the consequence of his being a traitor and nothing more.”
“And what of his soldiers?” Bathalian responded in a wry tone. “Were they found wanting as well?”
“Not all. A majority were, enough to suggest that Raom himself turned the blindest of eyes to the good conduct of his soldiers, thereby making him unfit to continue holding a position of leadership in the War Faction. And I'm sure you realize he was unwilling to forfeit his status peacefully.”
“No he never was one to shy from an excuse for a fight. Still, to think the fellow Lords would treat his ousting with such a cutthroat approach, I had hoped they held more respect for their peers. Did Lord Mellor have say in this matter?” A silence set in as they neared two soldiers standing post outside of the beginning of a stone ground leading into a stone keep. Both soldiers glanced before looking away, the looks of disdain on both Bathalian and Farra warding any third party from inquiring into their business. From within the structure a round of laughter came, Farra's head turning in a slight confusion while Bathalian's eyes narrowed.
The laughter distracted ensuing conversation, instead Bathalian honing in on the voices she heard, glancing toward Farra from the corner of her eyes before speeding forth into the keep. Farra picked her pace up following behind at a distance. A soft smile cracked across her lips as they ascended a small staircase, the voices being close enough for her to see the motions of whom they belonged to behind walls.
Equipment, tables, and earthenware scattered around each segmented room they passed. The walls hanged low. The torches attached to them rising barely beyond Bathalian's height, almost threatening to singe her hair. The laughter continued, an expansive room coming into view with several tables and chairs. A cloaked figure sporting a gnarled staff let out a laugh, the soldiers around him following suit even when Bathalian came into view.
“Ah, Lady Bathalian. I thought to invite myself in when I was informed you were out for a walk. I hope you don't mind me distracting your resting soldiers and officers for a little, they're as good of company as any.” He spoke with a bow, turning to Farra with a bright smile. “I'm happy to see you in good health, I heard you were locked in a slumber.”
“I overexerted myself Teilve, but with every experience comes new knowledge. Forgive me Lady Bathalian for our conversation's interruption, it has been some time since I've seen my fellow officer. The mood here seems quite uplifting does it not? If you would be so gracious, may we continue our conversation over a meal?”
Before the elf could respond, Teilve swooped in. “That does sound quite ideal. It's been some time traveling, and what better way to ease moods than bonding over a meal? Right my friends?” He spun around, arms outstretched and welcoming one soldier with an arm around his shoulder. Cheers came from around the room, Teilve's eyes crossing Farra's as they nodded and looked to Bathalian together.
“One of us can go to the food stores if you prefer Lady Bathalian.” Teilve briefly bowed.
“That will be unnecessary. I see no reason to deny the request however. One of you.” She looked the soldiers aside Teilve. “Sort it out among yourselves and bring up the appropriate rationing at once.” Her eyes lowered down to Farra, seeing the feirin watching her with a sharp gaze, peering into the elf's eyes. “We can discuss the happenings over the meal. But tell me now why the both of you find yourselves in my court. I do not fancy surprises.”
Teilve and Farra exchanged gazes while two soldiers turned and descended a nearby staircase leading down into the ground.
“Well I was instructed by Lord Erres to come here after completing some investigations on land lying between yours and Lord Mellor's domain. It's been a somewhat uneventful assignment. A few odd creatures here and there. Nothing out of the ordinary despite the duty of locating tribes that could possibly be a cause of some of these slave uprisings.” Teilve tapped his staff against the ground, reaching a hand into his pocket and procuring a vibrant crystalline stone. “Until I found this. In a pass belying three of our Lords' lands. I don't know what to make of it yet. But perhaps our more aged minds might. Perhaps you have insight to the matter Lady Bathalian?” Teilve mused, holding the lucent stone emitting a white glow toward the elf.
Bathalian extended a hand in hesitation, her fingers hovering over as Teilve's voice came again. “It's safe to touch without a glove.” She nodded, picking it up and turning the crystal over.
“Have you attempted to infuse or exert magical energies upon it?”
“No, there's only one, I figure I should leave that action to our more wise minds in case it's a one-time chance. I scoured the cliffs where I found it looking for another, but there was none. There were a few caverns here and there, but I thought better of venturing in alone.”
“A wise decision on your part mage. Your decision to not try and investigate the stone yourself is a wise. It would seem for all his rashness in his youth, Lord Erres does well in selecting his officers. If only he was not so naive.” Bathalian's eyes glanced to the side, feeling the briefest glare from Farra upon uttering those words. “There is the possibility this is an object, foreign to these lands brought in by a chosen. However to have something like this on one's person would be quite the coincidence. I leave it to you then mage, I imagine it'll be a topic of discussion at the next council.”
Bathalian handed the stone back over to Teilve. Farra's eyes watched her movements, observing every twitch before speaking. “On my assignment I encountered a chosen with an array of magical gemstones embedded in his equipment. The gemstones were pitiful in their power, but their method of creation could be worth studying. I feel it is already worth investigating whether this stone is from these lands or not, if it proves useful in any way.”
“Ever the pragmatist, feirin. Then what is your assignment?”
Farra took a breath, looking away from the two and toward a set of crude weapons lodged in a rack against the wall. “My assignment is secret, again, at the Warlords' behest. To divulge it would be to betray their orders, unless I think it necessary in completing my assignment. With that in mind, I've been ordered to simply investigate slave uprisings and their possible causes.”
“And what role does Lord Raom's demise and the razing of his domain play in that?”
“Raom is no longer worthy of the title of Lord, Lady Bathalian. One of my responsibilities is to contend with outstanding issues I find plaguing our faction. Raom had long since relieved himself of any reasonable communication with not just fellow soldiers and Lords, but the Warlords themselves. He fancied himself his own ruler, and the actions that filled his domain were nothing but traitorous. He paid with his life for it, as did many offending soldiers. You have no reason to be concerned, you are not a traitor Lady Bathalian, and I trust your soldiers are not as well, considering your wisdom.”
From the stairwell the two soldiers fetching food came back up, carrying a crate, stopping to watch the exchange between Bathalian and Farra.
“The matter of how to deal with a rogue Lord should not fall to a singular girl and her judgment, especially one so beholden to her leader.”
“I am beholden to our faction, if you worked more closely with us you would see that the interests of the Lords I most adamantly serve are in the best interest of us all.”
“Your ways is naught more than one of control, killing those who dissent it would seem.”
“We are united in our desire to persevere, or has some sort of paranoia taken hold of you Lady Bathalian?”
A silence filled the room as both quarreling figures stared into the eyes of one another. Teilve looked around at the other soldiers who glanced back to him, returning a shrug.
“Let's eat. This conversation doesn't sound like it will lead us anywhere.” Teilve moved over to the soldiers by the staircase, placing a hand on the crate they carried and helping them up. Idle conversation began, and a chuckle came from one of the soldiers. For some moments longer Farra and Bathalian kept their gazes toward one another, finally peeling away and turning to the rest of the soldiers.
The soldiers spread across the crude tables. The two who fetched the food supplies took Farra and Teilve's presences as an excuse to withdraw more food from their stores than typical. Within Bathalian's court were soldiers of numerous races, seemingly open and merry, and to a degree, unbridled. To Farra, Teilve had put in an effort to find common ground with the soldiers, something the easygoing mage had a talent for. Yet the tension between Bathalian and Farra remained palpable, and soon the meal of tentative peace housed their friction once more.
“Then, tell us what you need from our domain to assist you Farra.” Bathalian sat across from Farra, her meal sitting untouched on the table. The feirin in contrast, sitting upright and biting into a piece of food without shame, opened one eye in response the inquiry.
“Meals are a sacred thing, best enjoyed without any sort of duress. But in hopes that eating assails our fears, I'll have this discussion now.” Farra stopped for a moment, chewing and swallowing between her words. “I have none too much to ask, Teilve is here and can assist me for the most part, I simply desire to go interrupted. Please don't treat this as my investigating you, rather, if I find something wrong I will take care to report it to you if possible. You are a Lady yourself.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“To take what Lord Erres' most vaunted officer says at face value would be nothing more than foolishness. But I will abide your request then. You and Teilve will have leave to investigate my domain as you see fit.” She smirked, folding her hands for a moment before finally deciding to eat. “And while you're within my lands, I'll naturally guarantee your safety. I don't need anyone knocking at my door should you two stumble upon some creature biting your heads off.”
“Let me ask Lady Bathalian, what do you think of slaves?”
Bathalian’s head turned at the change in topic, various soldiers looking over at the change in conversation.
“Some are better off being slaves and for the War Faction they are necessary. To call them any sort of evil necessity would be to disparage the work they do. It is something Lord Erres and I do find common ground on to my understanding, that there is an inherent necessity for slaves, and to let them run free would do more harm than good. They would sooner fall into their same positions without the title of slavery than wander these dark lands.”
“And the manner of how they are treated?”
“You were a slave Farra. You know it is a matter of do or die, that if you did not have the protection of being a slave, then you would be tossed to the side or worse. What is this sentiment you are showing?”
“I do not think of it as sentiment. I was a slave, but I do not hold any place in my heart for unnecessary mercy. But suppose we are not efficient with how we manage the slaves, perhaps these uprisings and discontent among slaves are something else we must factor into how we allocate them.
“If it would come at the expense of our soldiers, I think you will find yourself quickly losing support over the matter.”
Farra paused, looking around the tables.
“Would it be too forthright to say then perhaps our soldiers grow complacent? That the ways we have trapped ourselves into have become too routine in a world filled with shadow that may upend this status quo at any moment?”
“Lord Erres concern for the hypothetical has tainted your thinking as well feirin. Still I will do my part to ensure you two are safe within these lands.”
Grumbling came from some soldiers over the conversation. Farra sat quiet, paying attention to none while she was lost in her own thoughts. She scraped her spoon across the bottom of the bowl, pulling another tuber from it and eating. The elf sat across from her, silent and watching the feirin's quiet contemplation until she spoke again.
“Then I would ask you ensure Naia's safety as well, and see to it she is given a proper meal if you haven't already.”
Bathalian scoffed.
“I am not so heartless as to let that mender girl suffer after doing most the legwork for your travel here it would seem. To think Lord Valen's handiwork has such a drawback.”
“There is no shame in relying on others in your time of weakness Lady Bathalian.
“The shame lies in your Lord pushing his agenda with such optimism that he ignores all its shortcomings.”
“It is...”
“Enough.” Teilve set an arm on Farra's shoulder, dropping his bowl onto the table. “It’s no secret to any of us you two will quarrel over the smallest of issues. Let the rest of us enjoy our meal and we'll be about our business dear Farra and Lady Bathalian.”
Other soldiers sighed in agreement. For the remainder of the meal, Farra kept silent, focusing on her food and enjoying each bite, while Bathalian avoided looking across at the feirin any longer.
With orders and requests sorted, Teilve and Farra departed Bathalian's keep, the same two guards standing like stone sentries outside.
“Even when she might be backed into a corner, she is a resourceful woman you must admit.” Teilve dropped his glove over Farra's head, ruffling her hair before pulling the hood of her regalia back over. “We'll just need to do some looking around to make sure there's no happenings damaging the truthfulness of her words.”
“Shall we split to cover more ground in that case? Her domain is expansive.” The feirin looked side to side. Neither guard aside the keep's stone stretch budged, all their surroundings felt frozen, as if placed within a stasis of time. Only the burning flames on torches lighting the darkness suggested any life. “I will take this eastern half including all the structures.”
“Aye. Then I'll take the rest.” Teilve watched Farra tread forth without another word. “Farra.” She stopped, turning at attention. A brief solemn expression across Teilve's face soon cracked into a smile. “While surely there is no place aside the very temple grounds themselves safer for us than Lady Bathalian's domain, do proceed with a hint of caution. We are here on the matter of traitors, so they likely won't heed the Lady's orders either.”
“I cannot afford to expend my energies on an enchantment for searching, but I'll heed your words. You be careful as well Teilve.”
“Maybe I ought to take a couple guards with me to feel a bit safer, where I go so does the danger.” The mage smiled, adjusted his shrouding hood before setting out.
Farra looked back toward each guard. Their lack of motion arousing a hint of suspicion. She turned back and shut her eyes, searching each structure for any outstanding or heinous mischief. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Friendly sparring and banter among comrades. Pleasure slaves but nothing to suggest they were soldiers. She could not investigate every nook and cranny with her own eyes. Bathalian knew Farra was coming and would surely prepare or reprimand her soldiers for any such behavior if it had existed.
Slaves, and how Bathalian might be aiding uprisings were at the forefront of Farra's mind. Bathalian's thoughts toward slaves, their being a necessity did not exonerate her. Rather as they were a tool, it seemed all too likely that it could mean Bathalian had been sending soldiers to Lord Erres' territory to help encourage revolts all along.
Farra turned to one of the guards. “Where is your armory and where do you keep most the slaves?”
A voice, betraying nothing more than its words spoke. “Toward the northwestern tower. You can find the camps set up out there. Our armory is in the keep.” The sentry kept forward while speaking, making no motion to acknowledge Farra, his hands crossed behind his back.
“Thank you.” Farra murmured as she passed the sentry, walking past him and around the keep. The wall of the keep was tarnished and cracked, the ebony stone showing signs of age. Farra lifted a hand, running her fingers along the wall she continued forward, taking a deep breath and focusing her mind. She peered into the keep, looking and finding Bathalian talking with her soldiers and officers. No peculiarity showed itself. Bathalian seemed to be reprimanding her soldiers for being so hospitable to the foreign officers, but a lack in show of solidarity was far from enough.
Farra continued in the darkness, the occasional soldier turning her way, but upon seeing her face, every one turned away without a word. She came to a hovel-like building with a faint orange light emitting from it Around it were various other buildings with an array of equipment racked both outside of them and in their entrances.
The sound of metal banging against metal ringed from within the lit building. She peered her head from around the corner of the doorway before stepping inside. Her heel smacked a slab of blackened metal on the ground, but the contorted and shriveled figure hanging over an anvil did not turn. Her eyes glanced up the beast, eying a lengthy ball and chain stretching the entirety of the hovel shackled around his ankle.
“A new officer? Apologies I'll have it done in time.” He exuded a raspy and pitiful voice, wheezing when the hammer came down onto a heated blade.
“No, I come on behalf of another Lord, I'm simply looking around. Do you perform the blacksmith work here regularly?” Farra inspected the edge and handiwork of various equipment, looking over various imperfect edges of blades and axes, along side pieces of armor with various blemishes.
“Ever since the other died.” A louder crack came.
“Died? How so? You have my permission to stop working for a moment, you will face no consequences for it, I promise.”
The pallid figure continued hammering away. He offered no response, keeping his eyes fixed on the metal. The sparks from the anvil spewed out onto his exposed skin. Despite this, he showed no signs of pain, only continuing to hammer away and forge the metal.
“They worked him to death I think. Don't really recall, they said he served his purpose.”
“Then...I would say he was an honorable individual. And I hope he has a proper rest now.”
Farra stepped closer, setting a hand on the beast's shoulder. “Stop hammering for now.”
The crude hammer struck one last time, more sparks flung forth, but Farra's regalia shielded the man's arms from being burned once more. He turned and looked up toward her but his eyes shying away from the indigo gaze.
“Why is there a need for so many weapons? I respect your work, but a weapon forged with more care will protect its owner better than countless weapons of lesser quality.”
“They didn't tell me. They just said I need to make weapons, and if I don't I'll get punished. I think that means the quality doesn't matter.”
“You would be right about that. I'll let you continue your work.” She let go of the beast's shoulder, and like a machine, as soon as she did the beast resumed hammering away without another thought. She stepped back and over metal shards on the ground.
Upon exiting the hovel, Farra took an immediate breath. Whether it was smoke within the hovel that felt suffocating or something else, she was not sure. But she felt relieved to be back outside. She turned northwest toward an obscured spire in the distance. After escaping the cluttered congregation of structures that made up the central part of Bathalian's domain, the open fields between the sentry towers felt welcoming. Farra dragged her feet across an abyssal field, the moon was nowhere in the sky, and the depression of ground ensured she could for the most part, only see with her foresight amid shortage of light.
After drifting within the darkness for a period, the outlines of compact tents came into view. Lanterns carrying single flames were suffocated by the darkness, barely able to light even the insides of a tent. Heads turned her direction as she passed, her boot's crack against the dry ground alerting others to her presence. Most ignored her, only some slaves and a soldier bothering to turn her way. The latter turned back upon immediately identifying Farra and her ornate clothing.
Farra looked down and stepped to the side, avoiding a bloody shackle by her foot. A young beast sitting half covered by a tent, gazed up toward her with fearful eyes. They locked eyes, Farra feeling as if she was frozen in time while she could see the eyes of more and more curious but also frightened slaves befall her.
Farra's brows furrowed, taking a breath when her eyes so naturally sharpened, causing the subject of her gaze to retreat back into the tent. Her head turned, and as if her very eyes were a deadly weapon, the other slaves retreated from her sight as she scanned the encampment.
'Insolent and petrified. Understandably so.' The thought occurred as she pulled her blade, obscured by her clothes. The smooth blade shined even within the faintest flicker of flames. At this very moment she understood how isolated she was. Farra lowered her blade, flicking up the bloody shackle on the tip of her blade, flinging it away from the tents and into the darkness. She looked back, cold as she ever could, because despite the warmth and respect she earned from her superiors, it was because of that very treatment that none below her could see her as anything but a dark messenger.
These slaves were no enemies of her, but she was their enemy. The soldiers that had been so silent, always hiding their movements from her did so not just out of some conspiracy as Farra initially thought upon arriving, but because the feirin had become an executor for the War Faction. She knew not who the slaves or soldiers were, but some of them surely knew of Lord Erres' fearsome feirin officer. Farra clicked her tongue in annoyance. She was special.
Being special she thought, wasn't just anything to be lauded necessarily. She never had the opportunity to be ordinary. It was likely none did in these lands. But it was through her initial extraordinary weakness and innate gift she had fallen into her peculiar position. She was an officer for the War Faction like any other officer, only in name. Her true position was to be the eyes and blade for her Lord Erres, and it was with him the best interests of the War Faction lie.
It was perhaps, a shred of disappointment now aching her. Despite her leading a group of soldiers that had gone from fearful to awkwardly comfortable after seeing the shortcomings the feirin possessed, that experience only gave her a fleeting taste of what it felt like to be equal. Separating her role as Erres' retainer from her personal interactions was impossible. The feirin was raised a soldier and weapon, both soldiers and slaves in this domain made clear she was terrifying.
“Guard, hither her at once.” Her voice shot across the encampment. The soldier who had attempted to ignore Farra's presence turned in immediate obedience, walking over. “Prepare me a tent. It is Bathalian's orders my safety and accommodations are secured. I will choose to rest here for the night in this slave encampment.”
“Are you cer—“
“Do not question my orders.” A bitterness escaped her voice, sheathing her blade with a crack. Naia was an exception. Just as the officers closest to her and the lords were.
The soldier nodded, turning and shaking within his armor, visible only to the feirin's sight.
“I will set it up over here then.”
“Good. Think little of it. I am merely ensuring amid all these revolts, that this camp sees no incentive to be unruly. I will be resting here."