It wasn't the fault of any memory or reservation. It was only practicality. Farra stood beyond the center of the council structure’s court and beyond the platform extending toward where water flowed from the mountainside. She stood underneath the single tree that stood as a testament to the possibility of life within lands dictated by conflict. She was atop a large verdant pedal, floating on the water and seeming as if it could give in to the feirin's slender frame at any point. Farra was clothed in a worn robe, fashioned in a style she had become accustom to as she grew, light and cut along the sides to not suffocate her arms. But in this instance the back was also open, exposing her pale skin. Her rear lie obscured by her tails that blossomed over the years passed. They were symbols of magical standing for any feirin, cherished among her kind as something to be proud of. But for her they were merely a nuisance, only battling more and more against the movement of their owner as time went on and becoming a target for her opponents.
The water splashed onto her head and shoulders, rushing down her body. Her hair was drenched and flowing downward, parted by the bending of her arms. In one hand she held her curved blade, its edge shining by the glow of the creatures emitting their light and dancing upon the water. She squinted, gazing upward into the darkness. The blade nearing the base of her tails and tapping against them with grace. Farra breathed. Though she knew what others might think of this, she cared little. It would be painful, but it also felt necessary. It was another stepping stone to patching her weaknesses and making her stronger. With one hand holding the beginning of her tails taut, she clenched her teeth, followed by the twist of her other hand. It halted, then twisted further, encountering resistance several times. Her mind was numb with pain, holding its agony inside only to complete the task before her screaming filled the air. The blade cut through, slicing each of her tails off, stopping before reaching her wrist despite the harrowing pain clouding her mind. Each tail, representing a feirin's natural beauty and majesty fell upon the leaf pedal, tainting it with blood. The edges of the pedal gave way to their weight, letting them drift off into the water below. Her blood flowed, painting her white lower back red, trickling down along her backside painting the bottom of her robe a dark red.
Footsteps came charging down from the council hall’s entrance to identify the cause for the screaming. Temple guards looked on in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Her heart pounded. Farra's body felt hot underneath the cool flowing water that was fruitless in the effort to soothe her nerves and mind, only masking the scarce tears flowing down her eyes.
At least one concern in this moment of searing pain was alleviated; her tails had nothing to do with her sight. They were useless as she had come to suspect. Her head sunk downward and indigo eyes shut as the pain echoed throughout her body, spilling throughout her starting from the base of her chopped tails all the way to her mind and feet. Despite seeing the rushing footsteps in her mind accompanying the yelling of concerned soldiers, she couldn’t pay them any attention. Instead she focused on quelling the pain and her screams, panting underneath the waterfall, adapting to the pain in her mind so she could at last manage words.
“Farra, explain yourself.” The guard standing at the forefront of the group spoke, his voice full of uncertainty as he slowly edged forward onto the pathway stemming to the waterfall.
Her hand loosened, dropping the blade into the waters below, the blood adorning it washing off into the water. She took a deep breath, turning to face the soldiers.
“I require a mender at once.” She panted, her words coming in the guise of a struggling request and order, stifling her body’s desire to scream.
She lifted a bare foot, stepping to the edge of the pedal. When her foot came down, the pedal gave way, collapsing partway into the water, her body along with it. Only her head, perhaps the part of her that desired to be embraced by the cool embrace of the water the most, failed to dip inside. The water enveloping her body chilled and stung, wrapping over the bleeding stubs and stinging. By the time she picked herself from the water, most her hair was drenched when she began wading through in slow, shivering motions. Whether her trembling was from the water's chill or the pain she was feeling was indeterminable. She reached a hand back, touching the air in place of where her tails once were, reaching closer to her back, feeling the blood flow from the stubs of varying shape.
“I was doing away with inconveniences.” She spoke curt and sharp, her voice shaking as she reached an arm up toward the end of the walkway. Two guards rushed forward, taking hold of her hands and grabbing her arms to help her from the water. Her robe dripping with pink-tinted water which became darker with every drop, draping down far enough to cover down only to her thighs. But despite her lack of covering, none of the guards present dare comment on her wardrobe or so much as think anything a lecherous thought of the feirin.
“How long is it until Lord Erres and the Warlords require my presence Tsaren?” Her breathing was harsh. A guard reached through his pocket, procuring a red herb and handing it to Farra. She took it with a quaking hand, consuming it without hesitation in an effort to inhibit the pain spanning throughout her. Another guard crouched, reaching into the water to retrieve her sword, gagging briefly when a bloodied white-haired and black-tipped tail drifted within his view.
“I was on the way to request you now. We were unsure of where you wandered until hearing the screaming.” Tsaren held a hand over the top of his helmet, tapping against it in thought.
“It was not as clean as I had hoped.” She gave a nod to each guard that aided her up before stepping past them with a trail of dripping blood following her.
“Farra wait for a mender at least. This is ridiculous.” Tsaren’s voice rose in a protest, observing her blood begin to coat the council court’s ground.
“I cannot keep them waiting. Have the mender meet me outside the temple.”
The soldiers gawked as she continued on, only wrapping the back of her robe snug around her stubs to stymie the bleeding. The guard that fetched her sword rushed behind her, bowing his head as he extended the sheathed blade out to her.
“Why are you bowing?”
“Forgive me Miss Farra.”
“No formalities are necessary, and even then.”
She took another heavy breath with a wince. The guard shrank away, confusing her attempts to control her pain with disdain. Tsaren pulled on his arm and whispered. The guard then rushed forward outside the council amphitheater, taking care to not step too close to the bleeding feirin as he passed her.
Farra continued forward, the guards exchanging a mixture of concerned and fearful glances as they followed behind Farra, whispering among themselves.
“One of us should clean the blood shouldn't we?”
“if we let it dry and the next council came, someone would be punished.”
Farra halted, her hands clenching like claws, expelling a jolt of pain from her mind.
“If any of you have some sort of vial or any other means to gather liquid, collect my blood and send it to Lord Valen. I know he finds blood magic and its research detestable, but it would be a squandered opportunity.”
Tsaren turned to a guard, handing a cloth and directing the individual to go soak up the blood at once in an effort to preserve it.
“Forgive me Farra, we will not so brazen as to the collect the blood...dripping from you.”
“I won’t contest your decision. Another red herb, please.” Her head pounded, she held her palm to her forehead when she continued on, an uncontrollable tear leaking from an eye.
“Yes.” Tsaren stepped to her side, handing her a second red herb.
The group continued outside. This pain she felt was merely another barrier to overcome. She had incurred numerous wounds over her years as a soldier and none proved grievous enough to leave lasting damage. The act of cutting her tails was merely another pain. She took a breath, crossing her arms and placing her hands upon opposite elbows, the draping robe covering her arms as she continued forth in her usual gait.
“Tsaren, it has been a short while since I've been on the temple grounds, has the construction of an additional garrison been facilitated?” She gazed out toward the grounds below the promenade, scrutinizing the bluffs for any newly erected structures before her gaze drifted upward toward a waning moon while she grit her teeth.
“The problem remains the same since your last visit, resources and all.”
“As a captain of the guard and quartermaster for the temple, where do you think this issue is stemming from?”
“I'm afraid I cannot discuss such matters outside of a council with someone who is only in the position of an officer, even if you are in Lord Erres and Lord Valen's most esteemed court. And even discounting that, this is an improper setting for the conversation.”Tsaren’s voice carried respect for the feirin, but drew a stern line in iterating where his responsibilities lie.
“Your response is enough to confirm my thoughts then. I have seen with my own two eyes a degree of the problem in the western lands. However there are numerous aspects I expect still need to be verified.”
“Farra, suppose all the projects both lords seek are completed, how do you suppose we sustain them? Lord Mellor has affirmed his alliance with Lord Valen and Lord Erres out of practicality of there not being a better alternative in his words, but that doesn't mean this course is practical itself either. Ample food to sustain the temple is difficult enough to procure, if one intends to garrison a troop here then it will exacerbate the issue. The soldiers also require entertainment. Brothels are explicitly forbidden on the temple grounds, but without some sort of release they will become unruly. A proper arena for soldiers to test their might with one another could be ideal, but there is the fear that among certain elements of the faction, it may become a point of contention given its purpose and the admitted waste in resources expended for its construction. I will not speak ill of the temple as our holy grounds, however geographically it is in a position far from ideal for sustaining a large force. Would it not be better to establish a base in the central lands?”
“Your concerns are not invalid Tsaren, but even when you cite the cruel realities of these lands, you must not lose sight of the dark reality which forces action upon us. We are pitted here to suffer, and the only option we have is to endure, either until better times chance themselves, or until we seize it for ourselves. We can only minimize the suffering and search for ways to survive and amend our problems. If the day were ever come to pass when things are not so desperate, then, while these temple grounds will not be an ideal home, they will be a suitable one rooted in our culture and beginnings.”
As they neared the entrance to Belthemot's temple, a familiar and tall-cloaked man waved, alongside the two guards that scrambled for aid earlier, with a smaller and petite figure alongside them.
The pain still clouded a part of Farra's mind, but she had become use to it, focusing her thoughts and mind despite a part of them being numbed by the pain.
“I have no solution for you Tsaren, one will have to be found, whether temporary or permanent that will be suitable enough for the tastes of our lords and soldiers. I am only the blade Lord Erres and Lord Valen forged with the intent to cut through this darkness so that the opportunities for change can arise. Otherwise I have little thoughts on the matter.” She shifted from the head of the guards to the cloaked man, stepping forth to address her.
“Farra, what is this madness I hear of you cutting your tails? Are you trying to cement your reputation for being extreme?” The mag pivoted on his steps and attempted to tap the gnarled wood staff against the feirin's forehead. Her hand shot forth, catching it with a long exhale, her eyes unable to help but glare back at her friend.
“How painful is it?” Teilve's voice softened, pulling the staff back and craning his head to inspect the feirin's back. “Looks like you really outdid yourself yet again.” He sighed, waving the petite figure over as Farra began to mutter back.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“The entirety of my back is stinging, perhaps I could describe it as feeling part of me has been carved out. But I am suppressing the urge to scream.” She muttered, tilting her head downward.
“Well you aren't wrong.” Teilve reached into his pocket, pulling from it a dark, purple-tinted liquid. “We have a mender here for now, but hold onto this. I acquired it from a beautiful alchemist Lord Mellor stationed here as an act of good faith. It's an early attempt at a potent mixture of blue and red herbs. I imagine you'll get more use of it than most, and that beauty gave it to me as a gift anyways, so it's mine to give away.”
“Hold it for me for now then, I will be changing into a new robe.” Farra held a hand over her face, feeling her forehead pound again. “And thank you Teilve.”
The mage smiled back as the small girl wearing a tunic, not unlike one Farra wore when she was younger save for its attached hood, peeked from behind Teilve nervously. Her ragged, moderately curly and brown hair fell past her shoulders. Atop her head was a small metal circlet embellished with a single amethyst-tinted stone, contrasting with her emerald eyes.
“A human? Her hair is not uncharacteristic of a beast. The number of humans capable of utilizing magic is a surprising thing.” Farra remarked, the girl briefly shying away as a consequence when Teilve set a hand on her shoulder, urging her forward.
“Us humans are resilient and magically talented individuals, what can I say?” The mage chuckled between his words. “Gare actually happened upon her some time ago from what I understand. She's been back and forth between here and as far as Lord Mellor’s territory for tending to the wounded. Never in combat though mind you.”
“It's impractical bringing someone into combat who lacks means to protect themselves, even if they are a mender.”
The girl stepped forward, her head tucked as she looked past Farra's pain-ridden gaze, gagging in her mouth upon seeing the mess of bloody stubs. “I'll do my best.”
Farra made no motion to acknowledge her, only standing still to focus on scouring the pain from her mind. The girl shifted and twitched nervously, glancing to see soldiers rushing off in various directions at Tsaren's orders, only a few including Tsaren remaining and ascending the staircase to the temple's entrance.
“I’ll be waiting at the entrance to escort you Farra. The matters will be strictly private, Teilve and the mender are forbidden to accompany you.”
“Private?” Farra's breathed heavily as she considered the implications, glancing to a Teilve who returned a puzzled glance. Her teeth clenched when her back began to sting intensely where her flesh was exposed. A mixture of warmth mixed with spikes of cold was spilling over her stubs and back, accompanied by turquoise light. Farra reached her hands out, latching onto Teilve's shoulders and bracing herself against him. A fiery pain then flowed through her, feeling as if it was searing the nerves in her tail to nullify the pain.
“That should be it. Teilve we should bandage her tails. It doesn't look pretty because of the blood, but I think it will heal.”
“Right.” He reached into a pocket, tossing a roll of bandaging past Farra and to the mender, the girl fumbling and bouncing the bandage several times before catching it, dropping her catalyst fashioned in the likeness of a chime in the process. It smacked to the ground with a hollow, wooden clink, briefly ringing into the darkness.
Farra's breathing steadied, letting go of the mage when a bandage soaked in oil wrapped around and bound her tails together in a tight bundle. A last tug to make sure the bandage was secure sent a twitch in Farra's eyes.
“And with that it should heal naturally I think.”
Farra stood back upright in a stature befitting a loyal retainer, turning her side to face the girl.
“What was your name?”
“My name?” The girl stammered. “It’s um, Naia.”
“Thank you for your service. Though you're a jumpy individual, your confidence in your specialty shows. I'll be off for now. Teilve will you still be on the temple grounds when the meeting concludes?” Farra gave the girl a subtle nod of her head, examining the thick bundle of bandaging that contained the remnants of her tails. She turned back forward, moving to ascend the steps despite her bloody attire.
“I'm waiting for orders myself, besides, I would've forced this potion upon you if I was going.” Teilve smiled and stepped back, slapping a hand on the mender's head and adding another layer of discord to her hair.
“I will see you afterward then.”
Tsaren awaited at the top of the staircase with two temple guards besides him. They stepped to the side once Farra cleared the last step, Tsaren motioning for her to follow behind.
The walls of the temple were dark, and in a way, looked endlessly high. Despite an abundance of magical stones lighting the way down several hallways, the size of the temple and height of the ceiling was enough to make the walls seem as if they extended forever upward into the darkness. Each panel of walling lacked any significant designs, instead carrying an austerity which could confuse one's sense of placement within the winding halls. After ascending another staircase and twisting around in the darkness, Tsaren and Farra turned to more branching hallways. Instead of traversing any of the long halls, they turned immediately right to come into a mighty chamber. The room’s size was large enough to function as a place for others to meet and converse, spanning in a great circle whereupon on the opposite end lie another pathway.
“Is the temple entirely empty Tsaren? Save for Lord Erres and the Warlords?”
“Yes, I was informed the matters to be discussed are restricted, once I escort you to Belthemot's Hall, I am to leave as well until you exit.”
“It sounds like many were inconvenienced by this. Surely the matters of slaves revolting are not this private.”
“I'm not aware of any details, in fact most weren't even given a reason as to why they had to vacate the temple. Discretion has been taken, you're not the first to enter here alone. But, given by some the reactions of some upon finishing, what they were told wasn't all too warranting of all this secrecy.”
They continued through the heart of the chamber, ascending a final staircase that winded about into a rising hallway. After several more steps an open hall lit by lavender candles atop a chandelier surrounded them. Directly ahead were two thrones. Several statues of armored figures rest along the walls. An elevated ground was beyond that of the thrones and largely obscured from where Farra stood.
“Maybe you should have changed out of that bloody robe before coming in the sanctum.” Tsaren spoke wryly in a whisper to Farra.
“The blood dripping from me is nothing but a sign of sacrifice to Belthemot himself, they will see little issue with it.”
Tsaren turned back, going back down the hallway as three figures Farra saw to be Lord Erres and both Warlords stepped closer; Farra closing the distance between them in turn.
“Lord Erres, Warlord Nirkosh and Warlord Ranalian, forgive me for my hastiness, but for what reason have you called me into Belthemot's sanctum with such secrecy?”
Ranalian stepped in front. “For now let us do away with formalities in order to hasten discussions. I would like not to give any an impression of the issues being discussed here having more gravity than they might initially perceive otherwise. Farra both your power and loyalty will prove an instrumental tool in quelling the several issues that have festered.”
Farra nodded her head, her eyes turning to each of her superiors.
“Your task in and of itself is a simple. Slaves rioting and fleeing across our lands has left our stores of resources emaciated. Despite a majority consensus amongst the lords, we find reinforcing the temple grounds to be a proper seat of power for the War Faction impossible given the flow of resources. Lord Valen finds his territory unaffected by the events, however his lands are both the smallest and most inconsequential in terms of resources as well as slave labor. It is across Lord Erres' eastern front, Lord Mellor's northern reaches, and then both Lord Raom and Lady Bathalian’s domains where the issues of slave uprising have occurred.”
Ranalian paused, walking from Erres side to Nirkosh's, arms crossed behind his back as he continued on in thought.
“Warlord Nirkosh and I are not fools. We realize the peculiarities of these occurrences by territory and location. We are not blind to the animosities plaguing our lords; something that has rendered all Lords' council ineffective and created weakness in our faction. Lord Raom outright refuses to contribute a share of resources to the temple on the basis of distance, while refusing Lord Valen's advancements in teleportation as a solution to that, even after the method has been refined. He is treating his territory like a vassal state, when it is in fact part of the War Faction's lands as is any other Lord’s territory. It is a matter before your joining Farra, however some time ago our lords did in fact cooperate and bind this faction together more wholly than it otherwise would have been.”
The elf stopped, turning square to Farra, eying her stature.
“This current climate is a disgrace upon Belthemot's name. But at the same time the established rules of our faction are in part why it functions and holds together as it does. To break them when convenient will only return to haunt us. Thus, despite the secrecy of this meeting your actions must adhere to Belthemot's Code as any other shall also. Failure to follow them is nothing short of treason. Yet dancing on that edge is the amount of discretion your mission will require. So tell us Farra, what does treason constitute to you?”
Farra took a break to choose her words, aware of her answer already.
“Warlords, my lord, treason is failure to take the actions that would best further the goals of the War Faction and the almighty Belthemot's domain.”
“A fluid definition.” Ranalian paced again with a pause. “One we expected and know you live by. However such fluidity brings us nowhere when deliberation comes, all will have their own interpretations. You are to strictly determine treason by the breaking of Belthemot's Laws. And it will be in this instance that we vest our judgment with you as both judge and executioner. Should you find a soldier of equal rank to your own or below proving unfaithful to our laws, then you can enact punishment as you deem appropriate. If you find a lord to be unfaithful to our laws, then you must verify it with another lord before taking action to expunge the traitor. Are these instructions clear?”
Farra bowed her head, Ranalian motioning an end to her bow as he stepped back.
“Then it brings us to your objectives. Fifteen moons is what you will be given. You will be given a troop at Lord Erres' discretion and use it to patrol from the temple grounds, all the way east to Lord Raom's domain. Any slave uprisings or tribes you encounter in your path we trust you will handle appropriately. You will be the commanding officer. Should you encounter any traitors, handle them as discussed. However, it is both I and Nirkosh’s belief with this vested power you will wish pay visits to both Lord Raom and Lady Bathalian's domains. Your time begins once you leave this room Farra.”
A grunt came from the orc warlord's mouth as he turned, his elf counterpart following suit and leaving Erres standing alone with his most loyal officer. Farra stood quiet, aware of the thoughts her lord might have given this opportunity to talk without formalities.
“You cut your tails.”
“You're more than aware I always thought them a nuisance my lord. They are useless, and merely reminders of a past life that would never bear any fruit. Even as the pain still stings now, I can feel my resolution in having made the correct choice.” Her indigo eyes glimmered vibrantly within the lavender light, the pain in her mind had ceased sometime after the mending, her mind entirely focused on the opportunity presenting itself.
“To come in this sanctum with ruined clothing both bloodied and scant, it needs to be replaced.” Erres lifted his arms, taking his helmet off. Two resolute crimson eyes were in full focus, peering into Farra's narrow gaze. A head of hair, black within the light and flowing into a reddish tint fell to his neck and past his forehead. It was unkempt and looking as if it had never been tended to. His face carried numerous scars, both from blade and flame.
“I will acquire a proper replacement before setting out then.” She bowed before him, it was not the first time she had laid eyes upon him, but to her seeing the man who so often led from underneath his armor was a sight she should pay her respects to. It was a man who led with his beliefs and was both stern and passionate. It was because of that very passion that Farra understood how he could lead those who might be mightier than he, but it was also how it could present opportunity for enemies. That was why in the feirin’s mind, it was her place to expel the feelings that could otherwise dictate one’s actions, and instead make herself the proper blade, one beyond what her lords had originally intended.
“No. The replacement you will wear has already been fashioned. Gare and Teilve will both set out with troops of their own to conduct their own missions. Neither are as discrete as yours. Farra, despite not being a mage you choose to do battle without armor out of preference. It's reckless even if its become a signature of yours. If my most trusted soldier is putting her life on the line so boldly, then the least I can do as her leader is ensure she is given both the proper equipment and attire befitting her cause.” He stopped his words for a moment, turning around the room to look at the various suits of armor adorning the walls of the room.
“Farra, do you understand all the implications and opportunities within the Warlords' instructions?”
“I do, and I've already devised my plan. I desire two spellweavers capable of activating my runes, and five soldiers. Their capability in combat is less important, I only require them as deterrents and not slowing the trek down. You may leave the more capable hands to Teilve or Gare. It is important I am not slowed down.”
“Then what is your estimate to Raom's domain?”
“It will likely be seven moons. If I am to return here within fifteen, then I must leave ample time for the trek back, to which I morbidly suspect will be a quicker journey, but intend to visit Bathalian during. She is a meek individual despite her prideful behavior; if a blow is struck to Raom, then it will resonate within her court. However, it is not too late for either of their cooperation, strictly speaking my lord.”
“I’ll count on your judgment then. If the opportunity arises, I would take pleasure in settling things with Raom.”
“I understand Erres, please inform Valen on my behalf then. I will set out at once. Where can I procure the equipment you've prepared for me?”
“The Oracle. You will need to make at the encampment northeast of here for your troop. One of the individuals who will act as your spellweavers is already here on the temple grounds. Take her with you when you leave. She will be waiting toward the pit.”
“Then the opportunity to strengthen our faction begins. And my lord, do not let your fury cloud your judgment.”
Erres nodded, sliding his helmet back on, turning to walk back to the warlords seated on their thrones, glancing back to see Farra navigating down the dark hall without hesitation.