The first thing he noticed was the sun in his eyes. It took him off-guard. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he expected. Red sun? Purple skies? It wasn’t so. Rather, the skies in Outworld were as azure blue as the skies above Embrayya.

The air, however, had a different quality. It tasted of stale smoke and oil, so much so that it dried his eyes, causing him to drop his visor down. There was a slight stench in the air that he recognized. It was the stench of old chamber pots and lavatories.

But what he saw beneath him as Vetzsche ascended into the skies of Outworld was certainly foreign. Grey-black roads with bright yellow-and-white markings. Numerous carriages of many colors, but a strange lack of beasts to pull them. The buildings were square, symmetrical. They lacked the spirit and beauty of Embrayyan architecture.

Even more alarming was the great bridge ahead of him. He’d never seen such a monolithic construction in his life. It spanned at least a league across a great river. From above the treetops he could see massive, tall buildings as far as the horizon allowed him to see, dwarfing the sparse forest that surrounded him. Some of them were so tall that Auberon was surprised they didn’t collapse under their own weight.

This wasn’t an Outworlder village. It was a great city-- bigger, even than Tyrant’s Fall itself.

He allowed himself a moment to bask in the wonder of it all before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

He motioned to Rost to his left, and Rustam to his right toward a nearby building after spotting what looked to be one of the direwolves bleeding out. A strange contraption appeared to have pressed it up against one of the carriages and blood pooled beneath it. The rider was nowhere to be seen.

His formation veered toward the building, and circled around it.

“Outworlders!” Rost exclaimed, raising his voice so that Auberon could hear him over the rushing wind, pointing to the rear of the building. “Dozens!”

Auberon directed Vetzsche to the back of the building. Surely enough, Rost spoke true. From a glance, forty were attempting to escape out the back of the flat-roofed building. He nodded to Rost and his partner took off ahead, flying above the Outworlder’s heads. He watched as Rost’s mount swooped down and locked its talons upon an Outworlder, raising him high into the air before releasing him. Auberon could just make out the snapping of the Outworlder’s bones.

“Hardly sporting,” Rustam commented from his mount.

“This isn’t sport, Rustam,” Auberon responded. “This is justice. They’ll fight back yet.”

Rustam couldn’t have understood. He was new to Raptor Company. Green. He’d never laid eyes on a demon, nor had he ever seen anything other than combat drills. This was his first real action.

“Look at them. They do not seem like demons. They look as human as I,” he responded.

“Do you feel for them, Rustam?”

Rustam let out a great laugh. “Demon or human,” he said. “All they’ll feel is Drej’s teeth in the end.” He patted his wyvern on the side of the neck, then flew up ahead to meet Rost. He swooped to the ground and landed on the back of an Outworlder while Drej put its head into his jaws and crushed the skull.

Rost circled back to meet with Auberon. “Five yonder,” he said, pointing below. “Keeping to the side of the building.”

Auberon circled around the side of the building and spotted them. Clever. They had obviously thought they were safer keeping next to the building.

They were correct, of course. Flying Vetzsche so close to the building would have been folly-- but something struck Auberon about them. Clever or not, he would get them. They couldn’t stay along the wall forever.

Auberon spurred Vetzsche forward, then looked back. The five of them were moving toward one of the larger carriages. It had a box-like shape. He watched as a door slid open, and realized its function instantly. It was a supply carriage. He continued to circle as he watched four of them climb inside, and then the door itself shut.

Curious. Did they think they were hiding? The fifth member ran toward the other side of the carriage. Another door opened and he climbed inside. Auberon kept an eye on them. What were they planning to do? Hide in a motionless carriage?

Suddenly, grey-black smoke belched out of the back of the carriage, and Auberon’s jaw fell open as it began to move on its own.

“Naia’s tits!” Rost exclaimed. He was as enrapt as Auberon himself watching the great carriage back up, then stop as quickly as it started before moving under its own power out toward the road.

Auberon committed himself to the carriage. Those Outworlders would not escape. Not while Auberon drew breath.

He gave a hand signal to Rustam as he came back from his excursion, indicating that he should get ahead of the target. Rustam, to his credit, did so without question. He and Drej flew out in front of it. The carriage swerved violently as Rustam dived at it from the front, but continued to race away from the building.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Rost!” Auberon said. “Block its path!” He spurred Vetzsche to ascend, rising higher than the World Tree itself and granting himself an even wider view of the surrounding city. He spotted more buildings far into the distance that threatened to dwarf even the buildings he’d already taken note of.

He leveled Vetzsche out, and then just as Rost moved ahead of the carriage, it swerved again.

Vetzsche dove and rammed the side of the carriage with such force that the entire thing fell over onto its side with a great crash. He watched as it skidded to a halt, the wheels still spinning at speeds Auberon never thought possible.

“Ground!” Auberon exclaimed to the others, landing Vetzsche near the overturned carriage. He drew his sword and stalked toward the front of the carriage as Rost and Rustam came to the ground behind him.

As he approached it, he slowed. The front of the carriage was white, but it bore a large glass panel on its face. At least, he assumed it was glass. He’d never seen glass so clear, and he’d never seen it break in such a strange pattern without falling to pieces. He kneeled down and looked inside.

Inside was a man. At least, he looked like a man of about fifty summers. He weakly looked around. He was injured, disoriented.

Perfect. Auberon took the butt of his sword and began to smash out the glass. The man inside screamed and squirmed. The glass was not breaking as Auberon expected it to. Was it blessed by an Augur? He’d been told that the Outworlders were profoundly devoid of the Elder Law. No, it was no Augur. But perhaps they had harnessed some other means to make the glass the way it was. Likely true for the method they used to make carriages move on their own.

Auberon wondered at the trickery, but smiled. Such trickery was useless against a single wyvern, and Auberon’s sword would make them bleed just as any other.

Finally, he managed to pull back the veil of shattered glass and reached in. He grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him out of the carriage, throwing him to the ground.

The Outworlder came out screaming. Auberon pointed his sword to the Outworlder.

“Run him through, Auberon!”

The man put his hands up and spoke. Some yammering language he’d never heard before. It reminded him of the Friezan tongue from the Western continent in a way, but it was different. Auberon looked into his eyes. They pleaded with him.

Mercy, they were saying.

He turned to Rost. “Bind him,” he said. “We’ll present him to the General when the Third Order arrives. He’ll be a fine tribute for the King.”

Rost nodded and went to his mount, taking some rope from his saddlebags. “And the others?” he asked as he descended upon the Outworlder. “The ones inside?”

“First we get them out. Then we’ll see,” Auberon responded. He walked back to the large box at the rear of the vehicle. He first knocked on it. It rang hollow inside despite all the noise from around him. He walked along the carriage to the rear and looked. He could see where the door opened, but didn’t know what to make of the contraption that was keeping it closed. It was little more than a handle, but no matter how he pulled on it, it didn’t give.

He stepped back and continued to inspect it. Ah! There it was. Latches at the side. He reached down and released one of the latches, then spotted the other one higher up and released it as well.

He then pulled the door open.

Inside, four Outworlders cowered near the rear of the hold. They looked at him with fear.

One yelled something, and Auberon looked at him. More of that jabbering language. Just hearing it angered Auberon. He raised his sword toward them, then stepped back.

“Get out,” he ordered.

The four Outworlders only looked at him in fear.

He slammed his sword against the side of the metal cargo hold. “I said out! Now!”

That spurred them into action. All four of them put their hands up and started to come out of the carriage. Two females, two males. One of the females had the appearance of a Giturnian woman. Her skin was slightly darker than the others, and she had the telltale black hair of a Giturnian as well. The other female had long yellow hair. If not for the way they dressed, he might have mistook them for Embrayyans.

“Kneel!” Auberon exclaimed. He pushed one of the men to the ground and looked to the others. “Kneel!” he repeated.

“The yellow-haired girl is fetching,” Rustam said.

“We claim them as tributes,” he said. “It’s for Caradoc to decide what’s to be done with them.” He looked to Rustam. “Or to them. If Outworlder women strike your fancy you’ll have your chance.”

Rustam laughed. “True enough,” he said. “They have no fight in them. Barely even sport,” he said. “Caradoc will have fun with these two.” He grasped the yellow-haired one by the chin, prompting a yell from one of the men. Rustam hit him on the head with the hilt of his sword, and he hit the ground face-first, blood exploding from his nose.

“Bind them,” he said.

Rost immediately began to bind the four new prisoners.

“Rider Dex!” came a call from behind him. He turned to see one of the Wolf Riders walk up, dragging a screaming Outworlder behind him. Auberon recognized him as the one Rost had dropped from a height.

“Rider Dree,” Auberon said in greeting. The Wolf Rider dragged the man toward them and dropped him before the three of them. Dree was covered in blood.

“That was your wolf in front?” Auberon asked.

“Aye,” he replied. “Wasted Outworlders and their tricks. I hope Taydir drinks their souls.”

“Bilas was a fine wolf,” Rost added.

“Aye,” Dree responded. “I trust this one’s yours?” he asked, motioning to the Outworlder he’d brought over.

The man was on the ground whimpering. He looked to his five prisoners. None of them looked up at him. “He can’t walk,” he said. “Caradoc will have no use for him.” He pulled his sword and kneeled down to the Outworlder.

“You may not have caused this, Outworlder,” Auberon said as the man looked up toward him, fear and pleading in his eyes. He wanted mercy, and it was within Auberon’s power to grant it. “But the sins of your ancestors will be repaid to your kind in full. This land now belongs to Embrayya.” With that, he plunged his sword into the Outworlder’s throat. Behind him, his prisoners yelled in unison, prompting Rost and Rustam to kick them in kind.

As he rose, he pulled a cloth from his side and wiped the blood from his sword. He then threw the cloth to Dree. “Clean yourself,” he said. He turned back and looked toward the World Tree. The archers still moved out, but none were firing. “It looks like we’ve secured the area. Third Order should be coming out soon. Let’s present these ones to General Borou and help with fortifications.”