The lone rider, wrapped in a black cloak, rode into the despaired town. It was a cold morning, snow dripping off the houses. The men cut the firewood, and the women prepare meals for their children.
The lone rider on top of a gray horse Stopped in front of an inn. He tied his horse to a post as he walked in. The inn, despite the warmth from the hearth, still felt cold and lonely. The patrons all sat apart from one another, drinking quietly.
The cloaked rider walked to the front, asking the barkeep for a pint of ale. He sat quietly as well, hiding his face from view. The barkeep brought him the musty stout ale from his personal brewed batch. The lone rider took gulps out of the ale. It was not the best-brewed ale he had, but after a long day on the road, he did not mind.
He continued to sit quietly just like everyone else, but their peace was disturbed by the loud guards who walked in. They sat at the empty table closest to the bar.
“Three ales, barkeep.”
The guard with poxy-skin commanded. The barkeep sent out the barmaid to serve them; she laid the tankards on the wooden splintered table. Which the guard grabbed eagerly, but he made sure to grope the lass before she left his reach, which, sadly, is a common practice among most of the guards of this town, and if they are met with protest from the barkeep or anyone they kill them or threat to take the lass around back and do more just groping.
The guards talked loudly and drank sloppily. Until they saw the lone rider sat at the bar,
“Hey, their newcomer, I don’t recognize ye. Where ye from?”
The poxy-skinned guard asked, spitting out his ale,
“Just passing through.” The lone rider said coldly.
“Ah, an Orinian, I recognized that accent. What brought ye to Sur sten?”
The lone rider said nothing.
“Oi, we asked ye a question. If ye don't want your head to be kissing the gallows, ye best answer the question.”
The poxy-skinned guard said, getting from his seat.
“Do you have children?”
The lone rider said even colder than before, “What concern is that to ye.”
“Unless you want to orphan them, you best leave me be.”
“Oh, you have balls made out of stone, don’t ye? Well, how about I cut them off and feed them to the hounds.”
“Well, you’ll need a claymore. How about I'll cut yours off? I'm sure I'll need a dinner knife.”
“That's it, ye smartarse ye come with me.”
The poxy-skinned guard commanded. As he did, he put his hand on the lone rider's shoulder.
He jumped from the bar stool, and while doing so, his cloak got ripped off. The poxy-skinned guard stepped back and stood before him was a bearded man with a silver-white streak down his raven black hair, a scar on his left cheek, and a pair of eyes white as snow. The poxy-skinned guard stared into the man’s snowy eyes, and then his eyes drifted down, and a silver amulet pinned to his chest. It had the crest of a hound with a red jeweled eye emblazoned on it.
“By the gods… a vanguard!”
The poxy-skinned guard said with a quivering, fearful voice. “Yes, and if you're smart, which all evidence is to the contrary. You know what I can do with a sword.” The vanguard said confidently, “Well, I'm- smart enough to count, you're outnumbered three to one.” The poxy-skinned guard said with a false sense of security. “I don’t even need a sword.”
The vanguard said, lunging at the poxy-skinned guard. He stepped back, but the vanguard grabbed him by the collar of his aketon, kneeing him in the gut and throwing him across the splintered table. One of the other guards tried to clobber him across the back of his skull with a blackjack. But the vanguard caught his arm, pulling it around to his back. With a shove, the guard sent forward, tumbling over a chair.
The last guard pulled his axe from his belt, and he swung at the vanguard, but he missed when the vanguard moved to the right of him, and with one quick jab to the face, the guard fell backward, hitting his head on the table's edge. The poxy-skinned guard stood up once more
“Have you learned your lesson?”
The vanguard said with a widened stance and shifting his weight on one foot, getting ready to attack.
“Ja, but ye have more students.”
As he said this, the vanguard turned around and saw a pack of ten guardsmen. They march in, restraining the vanguard, marching him to the jarl. They arrived at the jarl’s longhouse; it was a large wooden structure made from a boat. As they open the door to the longhouse, the warmth of the large fire hits them, and the coldness of Sur Sten seems like a distant memory. The longhouse was full of guards, drinking and whoring.
They marched him in front of a large throne where the jarl sat. He had a primarily naked lass with a sour expression- on her face resting on his knee. The jarl was an old, weathered man adorned in the finest tunics of the Northick states.
“My jarl, this vagrant attacked me and my fellow officers.”
The poxy-skinned guard announced the jarl took a long drink from his ale. He pushed the lass from his knee and looked at the vanguard.
“Does this vagrant have a name?”
“Caelen of skillvara.” The vanguard interrupted
“A vanguard as well, a highly skilled warrior and professional mercenary, heard many stories about the vanguards of old. My great grand da Jarl Yoren the Great fought alongside them in the Kolvin war. They say to meet a vanguard on the battlefield is to meet death itself, how far your order has fallen.”
The jarl said, getting up from his throne and meeting Caelen’s eye level.
“Let’s talk more privately. Come bring him to my trophy room.”
The jarl commanded the guards to bring Caelen to the adjacent room. They entered. It was a reasonably large room with many heads with a monstrous visage upon each of them.
“Look, vanguard, I’m willing to look past your crimes if you are willing to take this job.”
“What’s the job?”
“There are some… troublemakers like yourself among the people. Led by some lass by the name of Milly, they call her Mill, and I want you to take care of her.”
“What are their crimes?”
“The killing and butchering of several of my men.”
“Judging by what I've seen, they probably deserved it.”
“No one deserved what they did to them… I found the captain of the guards, head with his cock in his mouth, on my doorstep. They… are… monsters.”
“Keep your gold. I’m not going to fight for your laws; I fight for my own.”
“If not for gold, do it for the greater good.”
“The greater good? People are raped and killed for the greater good. Whole cities are raised to the ground for the greater good. Tell me, what’s the difference between the greater good and the greater evil… there is none.”
“Didn't realize that vanguards were philosophers as well… if that's your choice, take him away.”
The jarl commanded the guards pulled Caelen away and out of the longhouse.
They led him to the jailhouse; the old building was dirty and unkept. The screams of men echoed through the halls. The guards stopped in front of one jail cell with a man blowing on a flute. They tossed him into the cell, locking it.
The guard turned over to the man blowing on a flute next to Caelen.
“Shut it before I shove it up your arse.”
The guard said angrily. The flute playing man promptly stopped, and he left with a scowl still casted on his face.
The flute player turned to look at Caelen
“So what got you in this shithole?”
The Flute player asked.
“Got in a tussle with some guards.”
Caelen answered.
“Ah… well you want to get out of here” the flute player said casually.
“How do you suppose we do that?”
Caelen asked.
“We get the key to our cell door and we walk out of here.”
“If it was that easy, why haven't you done it”
“I needed one more person now I got one, so you want to go”
“Don’t have much choice i suppose so what do you have in mind.”
“Good now we need to get the key… ah.”
he said, pulling out his flute and starting to blow into it playing a little lovely tune. It made this place seem more lively than the inn. In the middle of his performance, The guard came back with a face redder than the coals in a fire.
“What did I say, you son of whor-.”
the scowled brow guard said as Caelen smashed his fist against the side of the guard's jaw. He tumbled and stumbled then fell into the waste bucket. The flute player picked up the keys.
”Shall we,” he said as they left, locking the cell door behind them. They crept down the dark dirty decrepit halls of the jailhouse. When they reached the entrance there were two guards standing by the horses.
“Damn it.”
Caelen said angrily.
“Don’t fret my friend, there's always a way out of any pile of muck such as this,” He said tossing a lantern into the stable where it broke and spread on the dry hay, which lit quickly.
“So there I was, stationed at my post then my superior officer came over to us and said. “let’s have some fun lads what do you say? Let's head over to the brothel,” and I said, "Sir what about ye wife and he said, “don’t worry lad she’s working tonight.”
They both laughed at this but their laughter was cut short when they realized that their stable was a fire.
“SHITE!” They both said as they ran over to put it out to the best of their abilities which wasn't much.
“Alright let's go,”The flute player said as they hopped on the horses as they escaped the imprisoning walls of Sur sten.
They were a few miles from town as they traveled down an empty road.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To our camp it’s not far now.”
“You mean Milly’s camp.”
“Ah so you know of our leader, yes it’s her camp but we all contribute to it, so our camp. I realize I never got your name.”
“Nor me, Caelen of Skillvara.”
“Bard Jackdaw.”
Caelen and Bard rode down the path until they came across a fairly large camp. When they entered a bald man scowled at them fiercely. He stood in front of Caelen and Bard’s path.
“Who are ye?”
The bald man asked gruffly.
“I thought you were friends with them.”
“Well I will be soon. Right?”
“That remains to be seen. MILL!”
The bald man called over a woman with dirty blond hair that was cut unevenly. She had tattoos of many varieties. One was dwarven runes on her hands; Caelen was not well versed in ancient dwarven runes. Elven sure but not dwarven. She walked past the hardy man and up to Caelen and Bard. Despite the fact she had to look up at him she was the one with all the power.
“Who are ye?” She asked.
“Caelen of Skillvara.”
“Bard Jackdaw.”
“How did ye find this place?”
“I was told if I wanted to make a difference I would find this place. I’d find you.”
Bard explained.
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“So you want to join us. What about ye Vanguard?”
“I don’t rightly know I ended up in a jailhouse and Bard here showed me to this loveable band of misfits.”
“Well you're here now so that makes ye, a misfit just like the rest of us.”
“I appreciate the offer my fair lady but I’d rather not get caught up in this uprising of yours. I just need to find my-.”
As Caelen said this his gray hide steed trotted up to him.
“He wandered in a few hours ago.”
Caelen grabbed his horse’s bridle and started to leave the camp.
“Wait Vanguard, we need your help.”
Mill called out.
“I’m not getting involved in this.”
“And I thought Vanguards had a code of honor beckoning them to protect the innocent.”
“How do I know if you're innocent? I’m not gonna be a tool for your vengeance.”
“You’re right we're not innocent but they are. The farmers, the innkeepers, the…bar maidens. The ones the jarl takes advantage of.”
Caelen was silent for a moment thinking about what his code needs him to do. Then he realized she was right, his code needed him to help them.
“Fine, I'll help but for a fee.”
“And I thought ye were going to do it out of the kindness in your heart.” she said with sarcasm.
“It fits in the parameters of our code but Vanguards are mercenaries, so we need to settle on a pay.”
“250 silvers.” she proposed
“260.”
Caelen countered. “255 and not a penny more.” she threw back.
“Fine, I'll accept it after the job’s done.”
“Huh, most mercenaries take their pay upfront.”
“Not Vanguards, we follow the writ of the tenet and accept all pay after the job’s done.” Caelen avowed. “Well good then.” Mill stammered. “Follow me then. You too.” She said pointing at Bard. They followed across the camp towards her tent which had a table in it with a map of Sur Sten laden upon it as well.
“Ye came at an opportune time Vanguard, for tomorrow we will attack Sur Sten and behead that snake for a jarl.”
She said mightily.
“Attack? Usually attacks end with a lot of dead people who may not deserve it.”
“It would be for the greater good.”
“You think that the people of Sur Sten will see it as such. A bunch of axe wielding men and women come charging out the woods screaming butchering people in the streets.”
“Well there's always a better way.” Bard said, hunching over the map table.
“As you know it’s the Beginning of harvest tomorrow, so to appease the spirits the Jarl will be at forefather’s hill that night, he’ll be alone.”
“That could work no innocents in the way and we claim the head of that snake.”
Mill said haughty.
“Even so what then? They will just replace him.”
Caelen pointed out.
“And I hope for his sake he’s a better leader, we’ll make sure that he is.”
“How so?” Caelen asked. “By leaving his head on the throne.”
Mill said casually. “I guess leaving heads is your preferred way of communicating.”
“Aye it sends a stronger message, ye see I would write a letter but a letter doesn't make someone shit their pants.” Mill said with a sly smirk breaking through her hardy face. “No, no it doesn't.” Caelen said with a slight chuckle. Mill dismissed them and Caelen exited the tent and wandered over to the campfire to slip away from the freezing grasp of the north. He sat next to Bard who joined them and a dwarf with a stringy beard. Across them was a young man with a weathered face and next to him was a tall man with pounds of taut meat on his bones. This man had a gaze that was colder than the winds of the frigid north. His gaze was fixated on Caelen. He didn't take notice of it and promptly started a conversation.
“So why do you want to kill the jarl?” Caelen directed this at the dwarf. “His men killed my brother, Jaren.” The dwarf said solemnly. “Me sympathises.” Caelen solicitude.
”His death is the reason we're here now, fighting. He sparked the fire in Mill’s heart, for he was her lover. She would come by the shop regularly to have a chain on her necklace be fixed. I still believe she kept breaking it intentionally to have a reason to come by the shop. After he was finished she would leave, and every time he would take a gander of her arse, the benefits of being a dwarf I suppose. Every time I would say, stop looking at the girl’s arse and get back to work. One day she came by and he took his weekly perusing and when she left I thought it would be funny if I yelled it where she would hear me, and I got tired of their pussyfooting. Hehehe when she turned and the look on his face was worth more than any castle or golden cock ring. Ohoho he turned whiter than the snow, but instead of cursing him, she smiled and winked and that was that it was set in stone. Ahh two years they were together it got harder to run the shop with him gone all the time, but I didn't care I was happy for them. But happiness is a fleeting thing, especially in Sur Sten. When the captain of the guards took her and… forced themselves on her, Jaren saw this and without thinking or dwelling on the fact that there were three of them, heavily armed and two feet taller than him. No, he grabbed an axe and charged. He was butchered, and they finished and went on their merry way. She came over to the shop, her dress all torn and strands of her hair missing. Most women would’ve broken down and cried, but not her, there was no water in her eyes, but fire.” The Dwarf grew silent and looked into the flame of the campfire, he had a look of regretful remembrance. Caelen looked over at the young man with a worn face.
“What about you lad?” Caelen asked. The lad fidgeted and muttered trying to find the words.
“My… They killed my mother, the jarl’s men, she was a… an alchemist of sorts, brewed potions to stave off fevers and such. One day a guard came by and he had a fever and my mother brewed him a potion to help him. But something went wrong in the mixing. It got rid of the fever but it gave him the runs. They repaid her by beheading her. When I came over by the store that day I found her there on the floor… headless, I couldn't even bury her in one piece because the bastards took the head… gods what did they even do with it? So that’s why I hate them and if I find whoever took my mother’s head… beheading them is the last thing I'm gonna do to them.” The boy said with shaken anger in his voice, he too grew silent. “No need to go on Havar.” The man with eyes colder than winter met Caelen’s snowy eyes and he asked him a question in a bitter tone.
“Why do you care Vanguard?”
“I want to know why you fight and your reasons.”
“What do our reasons matter to ye? You're a mercenary, ye care until someone shows ye more coin than we offer. So don’t pretend ye care because ye don’t, it’s just coin at the end of the day.” The man said walking off from the fire to brave the cold. “Don’t mind Ulfger lad, has personal biases against sellswords such as yeself. Long ago he lived peacefully with his bear companion, Einar was his name, ye see the Jarl had hired some poachers. They found Einar sleeping and killed him terribly. Well Ulfger had found them; he too killed them terribly when he learned they Jarl had hired them well he almost stormed the Jarl’s longhouse himself but I found him and led him hear with us.”
The stringy beard dwarf said Caelen felt sympathy For Ulfger but his word did cut deep; he knew he was much more than a mere sellsword even though they didn't see him as such.
Later into the night everyone was drinking and dancing merrily foolishly of course because victory has not come yet but they celebrate as if it had. Caelen thought this as he leaned against a tree watching from a distance. Mill came with a mug in hand. She leaned against the same tree she drew a long chug of the ale before she said a word.
“So Daren told ye my reasons.” Mill said, downing a gulp of sour ail. “Aye he did and… I’m sorry for what happened.” Caelen said solemnly. “Have you loved someone so deeply ye willing to do anything for them?” Mill asked.
“I'm a vanguard, there's not much love for us.”
“The thing about love, it can bring so much joy but when it’s gone the pain is unyielding. It’s the woe of love I suppose.”
“Aye it is.” Caelen said remorsefully.
“Ye speak as if ye had loved before.”
“I have… her name was Illia she was a young noble girl I was hired to save from some bandits. But when we got back they had burned her home to the ground and killed her family. She was alone, but I couldn't leave her there, so I took her in.”
“Even the cold heart of a Vanguard still had room for a lost girl?”
“Let’s just say I sympathized. I know what it was like to have your home burnt to the ground. She traveled with me for a year. Her wonder of the world always brought a smile to me face, we loved each other. But then she… was injured in a battle that we got caught in, and she died. That's why there's not much love for vanguards because when we do…. it dies.” Caelen closed himself from Mill but Mill had grasped his arm. “Think about her always, it may be painful but, the pain makes us stronger.” She looked into his snowy eyes and he looked into her blues. Mill had let go of Caelen’s arm. She trotted back to her tent. A smile had crept its way onto Caelen's face but he had killed it before it could become something more.
The sun had not made the cold disappear, it still lingered. Caelen had gotten up from his bed roll that was too thin to find comfortable, but he was used to lacking that pleasure. Everyone was gathered at Mill’s tent, so Caelen made his way over. Mill was explaining the plan to everyone. “Tonight at forefather’s hill, the Jarl will be alone performing his pagan rights; this is where we end his reign.” Mill looked around at her fellowship bound in blood & steel. “I look at ye all remembering what brought us together, ye may say it’s vengeance and hate, but I believe it something stronger… love brought us here, for our brothers, for our mothers and our… lovers. That love binds our fates into one, and know whatever happens. I love ye all as my own.” Mill said with conviction and passion.
Everyone moved out of her way as she joined the horses. And her fellowship was made out of an old dwarf, a bear rider, a boy no younger than seventeen, a bard, and a vanguard. They mounted their horses and rode off to end the reign of the jarl.
The night had covered the cold land in a blanket of darkness. The only light that existed for miles was the fire on forefather’s hill, where the Jarl commenced his right to appease the old spirits. As he did, Caelen and the rest of Mill’s crew hung on the side of the hill, weapons in hand.
“Hopefully, ye all remember the plan.”
“Ja, just stab him in the back doesn't get any simpler than that,” Ulfger said eagerly.
“I want to look into his eyes when we kill that bastard,” Havar said.
“Don’t worry, lad we will show him the price of cruelty,” Daren said, putting his hand on the lad’s shoulder.
“Let’s move,” Mill commanded as they moved up the hill towards the Jarl. When they arrived at the crest of the hill, they saw the Jarl sitting in front of a large burning pyre as they approached behind him. He stood and addressed them confidently and with pride. “I know ye their Milly daughter of Erik.” The Jarl said, standing up with several armed guards surrounding him. “How the hell did ye know we will be here tonight?” Mill asked.
“The little jackdaw in your ear telling ye where to be on this fateful night.” as he said this, Bard crossed over to where the Jarl was standing. As he did this, he turned on his heel and said. “Nothing personal, my friends, just business, that’s all.”
“Feels real fuckin’ personal,” Daren said bitterly. Caelen pulled out a medallion; he held it up to the Jarl and issued a command.
”Leave us go; no need to shed blood on this night.” his medallion started to glow green, the Jarl stared into it and laughed. “Your vanguard tricks and trinkets won’t work on me, ye see this.” The Jarl held up a charm necklace made of juniper wood and strung together by horse hair. “This little charm was meant to ward off evil spirits and hexes such as your medallion. Now for ye crimes against the state of Northick realms, I sentence ye… to death.” The Jarl’s men marched over and each had a look on their face saying we're going to gut you, and we're going to enjoy it, but the band wasn't going give them the pleasure. One guard had little to no teeth in his mouth.
teeth he had were black and crooked. He fixed his gaze on Caelen, and Caelen fixed his. But all the guard saw was a flash before his head came toppling off from his neck. Caelen stood with blood dripping from his sword. The rest engaged the Jarl’s men; Ulfger charged three of the men, his mountainous stature helped him as he crushed their bones. But he could not hold out for long. He was dog-piled by several of the guards, stabbing him repeatedly in his large, meaty back as he fell like a great oak. Havar charged in, not thinking about his life, but he was also cut down quickly; they both bled and died in the same spot. Caelen caught up with Bard. “I didn't want to shed any blood today, my friend so can you move aside?”
“I’m not your friend, you lying bastard.”
“It was not personal, we are both men of gold, it was business.”
“My honor is worth more than any gold.”
“Well… let’s see what that honor cost you.” Bard yelled out as he charged Caelen with a dagger. They twirled in a dance of death Bard to Caelen’s surprise was a capable fighter before long he had Caelen on his back. As he tried to plunge his dagger into Caelen’s eye he did not notice his flute that fell from his back pocket. Caelen could not reach his sword so he grabbed Bard’s flute. He managed to use his weight to flip over and now Bard was on his back. Caelen used this moment, flute in hand shoved it deep into his eye. Bard wriggled but soon grew still.
“Play that at your next resitel.” Caelen said as he grabbed his sword as went to rejoin the battle. But before he could he was stopped by a familiar poxy skin guard. “Ye remember us?” the poxy skin guard said with a degenerate smile. “Hmm, the scent is familiar.”
“Funny, I see the time in the jailhouse didn't fix that smart arse of yours. You're ready for another thrashing.”
“As I recall it wasn't me who was thrashed.”
“That’s it ready ye blade.” the poxy skin guard said, readying himself. Caelen stood in a long point stance. Before they could react Caelen lunged at them stabbing one in the heart. One brave soul swung his axe at Caelen’s head. But he slipped his blade under the axe’s blade disarming him and on a returning cut sliced his head from his neck. One snuck up behind Caelen but Caelen raised his sword above his head and around to his back stabbing the man in his skull. Another fool swings his blade towards Caelen's neck but he ducks and rises with an ascending cut. All who was left was the poxy skin guard, he held his mace up shaken… scared. Caelen slipped on a pair of knuckles which glowed a slight shimmering blue. The poxy skin guard charged with a false brave scream, Caelen cocked his fist back and one blow he sent the guard flying. He landed with a thud gasping for air while he did. Caelen marched over when he reached the breathless guard he held his sword up high and plunged it deep into his chest, before the guard was trying to fill his lungs with air but they were already filled with blood. Caelen left the poxy skin guard drowning in his own blood. Daren was surrounded, Mill was too wounded to reach him as he faced the men one of them spoke up.
“Look just like your brother, especially when we cut ye up into little bits.” he said with a voice of a dying pig.
“I show ye who's gonna be in’ little bits ye Bastard.”
“BOYS! When were we done with this little fuck maybe the Jarl let us have more play time with that bitch, AHHHH!” The yelled out when Daren’s axe chopped into his groin but this moment of satisfaction on Daren’s part left him open and the guards took advantage of that. They knocked him down to the dirt, stabbing him over and over to a point where no one would be able to count the amount of wounds on his body. While this was going on Mill screamed out Daren’s name as the last of her family was gone. She tried to stand but she could not, the Jarl held her up, she was broken, knees smashed in. Caelen had just finished his butchering of Bard and the poxy skin guard when he realized he was the last one standing. “Let her go…now.” Caelen commanded. “Who are ye to command a jarl,”
“Caelen of Skillvara, vanguard.”
“You're nothing more than a stray hound with no master.”
“You should know strays are the most dangerous, you want to see me bite?” Caelen said with a sneer.
“Let’s see what happens when the hound loses its bitch.” The Jarl said as he slit Mill’s throat. Caelen watched as Mill’s lifeless corpse fell to the ground where everyone she had loved now laid. Caelen turned his snowe gaze towards the Jarl and his men, he was outnumbered five to one but the odds were always in his favor. He calmed his composer and stood his ground. One guard slashed but Caelen deflected, back stepped and slashed his neck, he switched into a half sword stance blocking an overhead streak he pushed the sword away and broke the man’s nose with the pommel and with a cross cut killing him. Another tried to whack him with his mace but Caelen dodged and returned with a cut, decapitating him. The other tried to get a thrust in but Caelen parried it and finessed his way into his chest, pulling his sword out it was followed by a river of crimson red blood. All who was left was the Jarl and Caelen saw who he was, a scared old man.
Caelen strad toward the old man like a wolf stalking its prey. In one motion he sliced each knee the old man fell, he tried to stab Caelen but he missed and Caelen knocked the sword away. The old man looked up at the vanguard and in one slice the head of the snake went rolling. Caelen stood on the battlefield but no one joined in this victory for he was… alone.
The sun’s gaze appeared over the tree line. It watched as Caelen set up four pyres, he pulled out a fire rune which he used to the first pyre. Harvard laid upon it, a boy who loved his mother, Ulger’s pyre was next a man who loved a bear who was his eternal companion. Daren who loved his brother and died for his honor Caelen wished he had a brother like him and Mill, a woman who’s love shined brighter than most and bound a fellowship of love. Caelen had secretly wished he would find someone he could love as much as Mill did Jaren but burning pyres and fields of blood was all he expected to find. He left the burning pyres with the Jarl’s head in hand for all he could do in their memory is to send a message.
The lone rider rode into the despaired town and he came to the center market where everyone was gathered. He reared his horse, its neigh ringed in the ears of the townsfolk when they Gave Caelen all their attention he spoke.
“Hear me people of Sur Sten, your Jarl.. is dead.” everyone whispered to each other. “He died by the hands of a few peasants such as yourselves. Their names were Mill,Daren,Ulfger and Havar. Remember their names and write them in the very stones of Sur Sten and this final message to any one who thinks they can do whatever they want to whoever they please.” Caelen uncovered the Jarl’s from the sack that held it as he tossed it at the feet of some guards who were too frightened to step closer.
“It says remember the price of cruelty, for it will cost you dearly.” With this Caelen departed from the walls of Sur Sten to never return.