Jarl Ivan Falk of the South sat back in his chair, his gaze on the two foreigners in his hall. They wore shining plate armor, courtesy of the kingdom they hailed from.
‘Lumen Knights…’
Ivan focused the red wax seals on their chest plates. Lumen Knights weren’t to be confused with their other brothers in arms, the knights who fought for the King and Azurvale. Ivan had heard stories of the superior Lumen Knights, selected orphans who were trained at a ridiculously young age and taught how to become fierce warriors for their kingdom and the goddess Delphine.
Lumen Knights were relentless killing machines that showed no mercy to heretics and enemies of the kingdom. They were like inquisitors, but not limited by laws against political involvement.
At least, according to the stories Ivan had heard. The leading knight standing in his hall didn’t seem to fit the bill. Except for the huge two-meter tall behemoth with the halberd. Ivan could feel a sense of unease whenever he caught that one’s gaze. The first knight didn’t really seem like a warrior aside from his armor. He wore what looked like dark blue robes under his armor, a hood swept back to reveal his head.
This knight had no helmet, the low glow of the longhouse revealing his pale alabaster skin and raven black hair, as well as his short stubble for a beard. He looked like he belonged in a library, not on a battlefield. Still, Ivan had to be careful with people like this, especially since the knight could very well be a formidable spellcaster.
“Hmm...” Ivan grumbled. He stroked his beard as he looked over at his own men, who all had their hands on their swords and axes. They were all on edge, their gazes focused on the two men in the middle of the room.
Ivan’s clan intercepted the two knights and their ship earlier that day. Instead of fighting, however, the knights had surrendered themselves, asking for an audience with Ivan himself. Despite technically outnumbering them, most of Ivan’s men had seemed paranoid and nervous. Their hands were always at their weapons and their gazes never left the pair of knights.
‘Something’s wrong about them. I can feel it.’
“State your names,” Jarl Ivan ordered. He watched as the normal-looking one took a step forward, a small grin on his thin lips.
“I am Gryff of House Brenwick, and my friend here is Hugo of House Ardel. We are ambassadors for his majesty.” The man named Gryff gave a small curtsy to Ivan.
“Ambassadors? What kind of business would ambassadors be after in these parts?” Ivan almost chuckled. The Lumen Kingdom had never been interested in the southern and eastern islands of Valenfrost before, and for good reason. The southern islands didn’t hold many resources and were much too small for the bolstering Kingdom.
This part of Valenfrost also proved to be a hunting ground for pirates and orcs, making it too dangerous for royal merchants to be sailing around. They simply didn’t hold any value compared to the much bigger islands to the north.
The knight smiled at Ivan, his hand reaching into his robes. Ivan’s men suddenly reacted, the sound of blades unsheathing and axes being drawn filling the room. Gryff stopped his movements midway, his own companion halfway through raising that threatening halberd.
Everyone was silent, the two knights still as statues. Ivan raised a hand, his men slowly lowering their weapons as Gryff gestured for his friend to stand down. The knight slowly and carefully pulled out a rolled piece of burnt parchment.
“Last week, my superiors caught an oddity in the ley lines, specifically near the south-eastern edge of Valenfrost. My business, our business is to investigate and eliminate any abnormalities we find,” Gryff stated, raising the parchment. Ivan rubbed his chin, raising an eyebrow at the official-looking document.
“I see…” Ivan didn’t fully understand, but he understood enough to know what the two knights were doing here in this part of Valenfrost. Still, he didn’t know why they had surrendered to his men. It could obviously be dismissed, as they probably had no interest in starting a conflict with Ivan’s clan. Ivan knew better, however. He could suspend his belief in most of the rumors surrounding the Lumen Knights, but he could never deny the rumor that they were bloodthirsty enforcers.
Most of the history of Azurvale backed it up to where it was a well-known fact. Lumen Knights had wiped out clans, insurrections, cults, and even entire cities in the name of Delphine and the Lumen Kingdom. They were no different in Valenfrost’s history, especially during the Outsider Wars. Ivan had heard stories of brutal tactics used against the barbarians from the south. Their morals were just as questionable as any orc and barbarian.
So Ivan was understandably a bit confused on why they hadn’t attacked his clan outright.
“Why give yourself up this easily?” He asked. “You could have simply killed off the men who had intercepted your ship, but you surrendered and gave yourselves up. Why?” Ivan sat upright, watching as Gryff swept back his black hair.
“Well, it’s simple, really. We are here to make you an offer. One you can’t refuse,” Gryff said. Some men chuckled at the proposal, others blinking with surprise at the knight. Ivan was smiling with amusement, hiding his grin with his hand.
“Oh really? What would this offer be?” The amused Jarl asked, deciding to entertain Gryff.
The knight chuckled at Ivan’s words. He brandished a fierce grin as he looked up at the Jarl, straightening his posture as he surveyed the room.
“I know that you’re not the true ruler of the south. Only a man who leads a group of ragged bandits over only a few islands as he cowers in fear from orcs and pirates,” Gryff called out, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Jarl, one that has no other choice than to bide by our rules.”
Ivan blinked in surprise, unsure if he heard the asshole right. Realization set in once the Jarl saw the shocked and angry faces of his men. Ivan felt his blood boil as he stood up, anger flaring as he swiped his hand in the air, signaling his men to show this dunghead who he was talking to.
One of his soldiers stepped up first, a bulky man well over the knight’s height. He threw a right hook at Gryff, aiming at the man’s exposed head. The strike never made contact. Gryff had moved frighteningly fast, dodging the attack with ease. Next thing Ivan knew, there was a loud snap echoing in the room.
The attacking man was suddenly on his knees, screaming as he held his arm, which was bent in the wrongest of ways. Gryff didn’t blink as he punched the man’s throat, silencing him as another one rushed at him with a sword. The knight’s companion Hugo stepped in to stop the attack, his huge gauntlet rushing to grab the swordsman by the head.
The grabbed man tried hacking at the mountain of a man, to no avail. Hugo didn’t seem to be affected by the desperate slashes. The held man screamed in pain, dropping his sword as he tried to pry the giant’s fingers from his head. It would prove futile as the screams abruptly stopped, the sound of flesh squishing and bone-breaking filling the room. Hugo dropped the man’s lifeless corpse, tossing him away like a rag doll.
While that was happening, Knight Gryff was dodging the attacks of two other men. He seemed to watch their movements, his hands behind his back. It was as if he was choosing his moment. One of Ivan’s men made a folly not even five seconds into their fight, his sword swing missing Gryff and hitting the ground.
Gryff chose that moment to retaliate with a counter-attack, his boot kicking the attacker back onto the ground. The second man tried to use this opening to go for a stab against Gryff. It would be his biggest mistake.
The knight dodged the attempted lunge before he grabbed the second attacker’s arm, pulling him in so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. The spellcaster’s elbow then made contact with the man’s face, breaking his nose and causing him to stumble back.
“Bastard!”
Gryff dodged another attack from the first man, who had just gotten back up. The knight distanced himself before he raised his hand. Blue runes appeared on his fingers as he chanted.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Ice Lance.”
A shard of ice suddenly materialized and shot forward in blinding speed, piercing through the other man’s side and incapacitating him. His friend with the broken nose had barely recovered before he watched his comrade fall. The bleeding man turned back to Gryff again, only to be met with the knight’s fingers, which glowed a soft blue once more.
“Ice Lance.”
The lance of ice pierced through the unsuspecting man’s skull, making him lurch back. His hands attempted and failed to pull the shard out before his body fell to the ground. The other man was still moving, his hand attempting to grab his fallen ax. Gryff kicked the weapon away before he stomped on his back.
Ivan watched the whole thing in silence, along with some of the other men who had watched from a distance. He watched the knight slick back some of his hair, his cold blue eyes staring at the Jarl. None of the men around dared to oppose the two terrifying ambassadors, and Ivan didn’t blame them. The Jarl swallowed his pride and fear, standing up as he stared the two men down.
“What was this offer you were speaking of?” he asked.
Gryff grinned, wiping some specks of blood from his face.
“Good to see you’re all taking us seriously now,” he chuckled, gesturing at his surroundings. “The offer I present to you will be one that will benefit you greatly. It involves the islands east of here… Specifically one that holds the settlement called Yorktown.”
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James wasn’t sure what he had expected at his hearing. The town council consisted of three people, two of them James had never seen before. The last one he instantly recognized. Felix, the town’s guardsman James had fought with at the Siege of Yorktown, sat on the far left of the long table the council members had set up. He seemed uncomfortable and out of place, like he had no business being here. James and Felix had instantly recognized each other back when the former had entered the longhouse, but both had kept from greeting each other.
The middle-aged woman next to Felix cleared her throat, catching the otherworldly man’s attention.
“James, is it?” She asked.
“Yes. My name is James Holter,” the young man acknowledged.
“James Holter… When did you arrive here at Yorktown?” The elderly man on the far right of the table asked. James thought back to his alibi, the one he and the shaman came up with.
“I came here on a merchant ship, one I hitched a ride on with Haggard.” James answered. The three council members glanced at each other, sharing a look. The middle-aged woman spoke up first.
“So you’re with Haggard?” She asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. James could feel sweat on his forehead as he wiped his face. It was getting hot in that longhouse, possibly from the pit fire James was standing in front of. The heat radiating from it made the young man uncomfortable.
“Well… not really,” James admitted. “I was only hitching a ride on the merchant ship... Haggard just happened to be there.” This was the story Dahlia and Haggard had come up with. James was just a random traveler who had gotten mixed up and ended up at Yorktown on just a whim.
“What were you doing here at Yorktown?” The elderly man asked. James glanced at Felix, who seemed to keep his own words to himself. James was unsure if Felix would expose his alibi, since he was the only council member who knew about James' unusual appearance. Albeit, without knowing the complete story.
“I was misdirected on my travels. I was heading to Haven, but I must’ve gotten mixed up back in Vindis, since I somehow ended up here.” James repeated the script Dahlia had given him back at her hut and how he was supposed to act as if he was a wanderer, with no directions and no purpose. “I was going to find another ship to take me back to Vindis, but then the marauders came–” James continued before the woman cut him off.
“That’s when you got stabbed, correct?” She asked.
James nearly flinched at her words, dread filling up his heart. That wasn’t part of the alibi. James was supposed to say he was one of many witnesses, and he had simply gone to follow Dahlia and Seamus after the event. Instead, now James had to somehow explain to the council he somehow survived a fatal stab wound.
“How did you survive such an injury?” The elderly man added. “We were told by some witnesses that you were practically dead on site, yet you came back and were healthy enough to fight off the marauders and the creature.”
James swallowed the lump in his throat, nervousness settling in as he tried to search for an answer. This wasn’t good, especially since any word of his revival would definitely cause nothing but trouble.
“Dahlia, the shaman, got me back from the brink of death. I don’t really remember much, but she and Seamus saved me with some potions and on-hand surgery,” James explained. “Also, I didn’t really fight during the battle last week. I was assisting guardsman Thomas and the shaman with the marauders before that thing came onto the scene.” James held back a shiver as he thought back to that day.
“Yes… let’s talk about that thing,” the woman muttered. “Who gave you the authority to burn those bodies?” She suddenly asked, a hint of venom in her words.
James blinked.
“What?” He asked, unsure if he had heard her right.
The woman raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Who. Gave you. Authority?” She asked slowly, striking a nerve within James.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to leave it the way it was?” James shot back. “It wasn’t dead!” He thought back to that day, how he had seen the body twitch when he was being helped by Haggard and Harald. It had even crystallized, like it was entering a stage of metamorphosis.
“From what we heard, it was thoroughly dead. Hit by a Fireball spell and had its head destroyed. You also burned the bodies of Thomas Winston, Erik Catcher, his wife Marie, his brother Derrick Catcher, and the two marauders who were killed by that creature. What excuse do you have for having your allies burn the bodies?” The council woman prodded on.
“The bodies were… doing something! Nothing dead crystallizes like that!” James was practically shouting in anger, unable to hold back his frustration. “I was afraid that by leaving those bodies, we would risk something like that thing returning!” He was so sure of it, especially since he had seen those bodies. He had seen the unnatural way the skin turned black, crystals forming on their faces and disfigured limbs. It was unholy, a crime against life itself.
“Tone, Holter,” the woman reprimanded, shaking her finger at James. The otherworldly man clenched his fists tightly, doing his best to calm down from his outburst.
“Well, your fears seemed to be founded in something… do you perhaps know more about the creature that attacked Yorktown?” The elderly man asked, leaning in to focus on James. James bit his tongue, trying to find something believable to say to these people. The young man couldn’t reveal his connection to the creature, how he had realized it was another human under there. It would mean revealing Faust since he had only found out about it from the clashes the two minds had with the other human host and the voices that controlled said human.
“Otis,” Felix finally spoke up, his brown eyes looking at the older man. “It could be because the creature itself was a person under some sort of disease. Dahlia, the shaman, said the thing talked. I’m sure James here had heard it speak and realized that the same ‘disease’ could do the same to the bodies it had left behind.” Felix glanced at James, who dumbly nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, I noticed the bodies were close in resemblance to the creature. That’s why I acted the way I did.” James quickly followed Felix’s example, silently thanking the guard. He mentally reprimanded himself for not coming up with that excuse. He had instead let his emotions loose, nearly outing himself. The middle-aged woman turned to the archer, a scowl quickly forming before it disappeared as fast as it came.
“Felix Arlo, I would advise you not to make any excuses for James here,” she said venomously, in her polite tone.
“It’s my fault,” James said, trying to shift the attention onto himself. “I have been in recovery for a while now, and some details of that day are foggy,” James lied. In reality, the memories were vivid, like he had only experienced them yesterday. Still, James had no reason to let them know that, so he made the excuse that he had forgotten some things. The woman turned back to James, her eyes staring daggers at the young man.
“James Holter, do not interject yourself into this. You are already on thin ice,” she warned.
James could feel his anger bubble up again, but held it back, clenching his fists.
“Understood,” he responded through gritted teeth.
The woman shot another look at Felix before straightening herself in her chair. She focused on James once more. “I have one more question for you, Holter. Understand that you tell me the absolute truth, otherwise face consequences for lying. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” James responded with a hint of hostility, his eyes focusing on the council members. The woman nodded before leaning forward.
“Do you know anything about a refugee that had possibly come to Yorktown roughly around the time you arrived? Or anything involving those marauders?” She asked, her eyes burning onto the blond man.
James shook his head. “I know nothing about a refugee or anyone closely related to the marauders that were looking for them,” he responded confidently.
“Really? Are you certain?” Otis asked as well, raising an eyebrow.
James could feel confusion and dread fill his heart as he noticed their looks.
“I’m positive. Why?”
The woman gave James a small grin as she leaned back in her chair. “Because it seems like those marauders had left behind a gift. For you. It was left with a note from a man named Deimos.”