Chapter 4
As Franklin returned to the parlor with her guide, she heard a loud and excited exclamation, the sound of someone she had not yet met. She stepped through the door back into the parlor and saw a young girl in front of Marta and Mercia. The girl was bouncing on the balls of her feet and seemed to be resisting the urge to jump about.
“Lady knights! Real Lady knights!” she crowed excitedly, clasping her hands in front of her. Franklin put on a warm smile as she walked over. She was a sweet sounding girl, full of energy. Perhaps an inch or so taller than four and a half feet, her blond hair was intricately braided and interwoven with daffodil flowers. She wore a yellow sun dress with green trim instead of the brown seen most everywhere else. She had the same bright blue eyes as her father. She was dainty, but not fragile. She had a face full of freckles and tanned skin indicating she spent a lot of time out in the sun.
“Hello young lady,” she greeted the girl.
“More lady knights!” the girl exclaimed with even more excitement as she spun about and saw Franklin.
“Maralee, calm yourself,” the Mayor reprimanded the girl. “I hope you will forgive my daughter’s excitement,” he said with tired amusement.
“Father, they are real lady knights! Uncle Jasper told me women were too weak to be knights!” she protested his admonishment, still clearly excited.
“Jasper does not always have a firm grasp of reality as it is, but his grasp of reality as he feels it should be is well established,” the girl’s father replied mournfully, still smiling when Franklin turned to look at him. “May I present, belatedly, my daughter Maralee Daffolid?”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Daffolid,” Franklin greeted the young girl, smiling happily at the sight of such cuteness. “I am Ser Franklin Starr.” She curtsied for the young girl, who energetically returned the gesture. “This is my wife,” she added, indicating Anna.
“I am Ser Anna Oomori,” Anna introduced herself, also smiling. “I’m happy to meet such a pretty young lady,” she added, causing the young girl to preen in joy. Anna curtsied to Maralee as well.
“Greetings, Miss Maralee Daffolid, I am Ser Marta Yearga. This is my wife, Ser Mercia Yearga,” Marta said, introducing both cats as one.
“To meet you is a pleasure,” Mercia added, then both of them curtsied.
Maralee returned this curtsy and then nearly ran up to the two catfolk. “Would it be troublesome if I was to touch your fur?” she asked eagerly. “I’ve never been allowed this close to a catfolk before.”
“Certainly,” Marta agreed, extending her arm for Maralee to touch. “Our proper appellation is amurran, though few bother to remember that,” she explained gently, still smiling.
Maralee began stroking the fur of Marta’s hand, giggling with excitement. “Amurran, I must remember. Amurran,” she repeated the word several times between giggles. Marta nodded each time with smile.
“Lord Mayor, this Sir Jasper, who is he? I understand your prisoner arrived on his horse, but why was he out of the city? Is that also connected to why we were dispatched here?” Anna asked while Maralee was distracted with the cats. Amurran, Franklin self-corrected. It was a bad habit of hers as well.
“Ah. Jasper is, was, my cousin. I suspect he’s dead,” the man said quietly. He didn’t seem too concerned if his daughter overheard. With no sign of a lady of the house, it seemed probable the girl already knew what death was. “Let’s all sit down. Please, this touches heavily on something I had hoped to discuss with all of you, especially your good selves, Sers Starr and Oomori.”
I knew it, Franklin cheered to herself. “What is it you hope for from us, Lord Mayor?” Franklin asked as she took a seat with Anna. Maralee ceased her touching of Marta’s arm, walking over to her father and taking a seat in front of him. He stood, hands on the back of her chair. Marta and Mercia took seats on the opposite couch, all four knights looking to their hosts.
“First, let me thank you again for accepting my invitation. You seem to have had some suspicions, so I will be honest with you. I am here in the hopes you will carry an offer from myself to Praetor Kaldur Gargant and his supporters. It’s quite the sequence of lucky breaks that has given me this chance, and I thank Fortune for all of it.”
“Lucky breaks? What do you offer that could make us carry this message, and why do you need us to carry it, instead of sending a letter. Why not ask for Ser Agritus Aquitaine to attend this meeting?” Franklin asked, just a little suspicious.
“Yes, let me explain in order, please,” the Mayor asked. Maralee remained seated, swinging her legs because the chair was too tall for her. She seemed to already know what her father was going to say. “Your first question about Jasper is the best place to start. Sir Jasper Venales is my cousin.”
Franklin went stiff at the mention of the Venales, and Anna squeezed her hand tightly in reaction. “Yes, I too am a Venales, it’s not much good hiding that,” the Mayor admitted. Franklin felt her vision momentarily redden, but Anna’s presence reassured her enough to keep control.
“You know who Ser Starr is and you still admit to that? It might not be a widely known story, but I can’t imagine a family member wouldn’t know,” Marta asked, sounding slightly angered. “This had best be a good explanation. Why do you go by Mayor Daffolid?”
The Mayor coughed into his hand and then nodded, looking ashamed. “I am the fifth son of Archon Hircine Venales. I married into the Daffolid family as part of my father’s plans for our family and House Daffolid. I am the acting Mayor, as Maralee is not of age. My wife was the previous Lady Mayor Daffolid, until she died of the same disease as her father, who preceded her. His wife was also a relative of mine. This disease… I was here to experience both incidents…” Maralee reached up to grip her father’s hand, though she looked as depressed as he did.
“I genuinely loved and adored my wife. She was a good person, a good mother… she has been dead for three years now. We had hoped a high ranking priest from the capitals might be able to cure her disease, but none would come because a large number of bandits suddenly appeared on the road making travel almost impossible. Our local shrine priest lacks the requisite skills and magic. No remedy we could access sufficed. She withered away and died and we could do nothing, in a manner identical to her father. We still don’t even know the name of the disease that killed her.” The Mayor drew in a deep breath.
“Jasper arrived a week later, sent by my father to “Assist” me in securing my hold on the town. I dared not refuse him, I already suspected he was behind what happened to my father-in-law. This town used to have five knights sworn to its service. Jasper arrived, defeated all five in duels, and claimed the place of Head Knight for the house. He killed one of them, drove a second into retirement, crippled a third, and the other two abandoned us rather than continue dealing with him.” He released a sigh of tiredness as he finished.
“That explains the lack of knights. I’m guessing he replaced your guards too. Are you truly that powerless?”
“Venales owns both roads leading to this town, but their contract expires in three months. Well, they don’t own the contracts, vassal houses own the contracts, but the result is the same. My father can dry up my town if I don’t cooperate, and Jasper was far too strong, even the strongest warrior in town couldn’t defeat him,” the Mayor explained.
“It wasn’t a proper duel! No way could-” Maralee started to complain, but her father cut her off.
“Hush Mara, I know, but the fact is, Jasper won that battle.” The Mayor turned back to them. “Essentially, Jasper was the real power, but only unofficially. So long as we did nothing to interfere and obeyed my father’s intentions, everything was fine. Until about half a month ago, when a strange pillar of light appeared, purple in color. Messages were sent, but Jasper insisted on going to investigate it.”
“Then an iruxi shows up three days later, riding his horse?” Franklin asked. The Mayor nodded. “Just before that, since he was already gone, you saw an opportunity when Anna rode up to inform you of our presence and mission and you recognized her name and mine?” Franklin clarified.
“Precisely,” the mayor confirmed.
“So you want me to seek a secret alliance with my husband for you?” Franklin asked.
“Essentially. I’d be willing to pay for that alliance with tax free use of my town when moving goods, I’m aware Praetor Gargant has recently begun expanding his business. In three months, he’ll have a chance to snatch up the trade routes running through my town, and I can assist him with their purchase as well. I want to protect Maralee from my father’s designs. If this continues, she’ll be a puppet on strings for him.” His voice carried the barest note of pleading.
It was a sensible plan given the Mayor’s resources. The situation was very in keeping with the actions of Hircine Venales, Archon and head of the family. He had been Kaldur’s political opponent for over a decade now, since before Franklin arrived at the Stalar Academy and ran into his asshole of a nephew or this Mayor’s elder brother.
“Understand that our agreement to assist you will come less from any desire to help you and more from our duty to our husband,” Anna stated, calmly petting Franklin’s hand. Franklin didn’t think they could actually trust this. It sounded all too real, but it was a Venales saying it. “However… Franklin darling, if what he says is true, this is a unique opportunity. Imagine the look on Hircine’s face.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Imagine the look? Franklin repeated the suggestion as a question in her own head, then tried to picture it. The man married his own son off. A fifth son was probably disposable, but useful. He invested in controlling the town, scaring off the local knights, gained essentially a vicegrip on the town after killing its real lords… and then she and Anna and Kaldur took that all away from him. He’d at least be unhappy.
“Alright, yes, that… I like this idea,” she clarified, a small smile spreading over her face. “My husband always supports any action I take to screw over your family. This is absolutely a plan he’d be amenable to,” Franklin allowed. “It’s a good opportunity, but not a necessary one. We’ll be just fine without doing this. Is there anything else you can offer?”
“As a matter of fact. Mara, go with Gilda and wait in the dining hall. The meal is probably almost ready. Gilda, send Manfreddy in with the items taken from the prisoner,” the Mayor gave directions for his daughter and the maid who had guided Franklin back to the room.
“Must I father?” Maralee asked, protesting her dismissal.
“Yes, for now. I promised not to hide the family troubles from you, but this is now a boring matter of negotiation and other adult matters. You do not have the grounding for it, leave it to me,” he asked her, smiling and kneeling down to her level to look her in the eyes.
Maralee pouted for a moment, sticking out her bottom lip, before giving in and tightly hugging her father. “Will Mere be back soon?” she asked as they broke the hug.
“It shouldn’t be too long. Be good and she’ll be in to assist with dinner once she can.”
“Alright. It was wonderful to meet you all! Please help my family!” Maralee requested, performing a curtsy for all of them before allowing the young maid to lead her from the room.
Less than a minute later the butler returned, holding a giant bundle of items, which he began to carefully set on the table. “By the Eye of Magic, what are these?” Marta exclaimed once she could see them.
Franklin vaguely agreed with the sentiment, though she wasn’t prepared to begin uttering curses just yet. First there was a breastplate too large for anyone in the room. In fact, it seemed tailored to a particular individual. It would have fit the prisoner in the square perfectly, it even matched aesthetically with the armored skirt he’d been wearing. The blades reminded her of longswords, but with hilts too large for the hands of most humans, and with wicked points and sharp edges adorning the hilts and even pommels. They were a little shorter and thicker than scimitars, with the back side of the blade edged with sawteeth. There was also a large black cloak, a belt with a thick muscular fist for a buckle, and a brown sack tied shut with string.
“The town and us may be in serious trouble, love,” Anna muttered at her side.
“Can you read them?” Marta asked, sounding both intimidated and eager. It was easier to understand her reasons the longer Franklin looked at the prisoner’s effects.
“ Let me try,” Franklin agreed. She gathered up the little bit of power her celestial heritage granted her, honing it into a simple cantrip. “Read Aura,” she commanded with a simple gesture of supplication, raising her right hand high and dropping the left low before her. Power flowed into her eyes and their shine momentarily doubled.
The aura of the items in front of her sprang into visibility and nearly blinded her as it did so. She flinched back, shielding her eyes from the bright glare and carefully looking at the edges of it, where the glow was still distinguishable. Different powers, schools of magic, had different colors when reading auras, and she had made a token study during her academy days to understand them.
Once her eyes had adjusted to the glare, she carefully began scanning the items at the places where the magical power was concentrated. Some parts she recognized. “A bag of holding,” she said, pointing at the sack, “But larger than any I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen a belt like that once before too. At the Grashland Tourney, when Sir Lionheart was competing, remember? I don’t recall the name, but it enhances strength. The cloak… I can’t tell, I don’t recognize it and there are no runes to read. Let’s have a look at the weapons and- fuck. What kind of- Is that, no.” She drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves.
Her audience all stared at her silently, watching. The Mayor seemed merely curious, the butler surprised, and her knight companions worried. “What is it?” Marta finally asked.
“There are nine functional runes on each weapon,” Franklin explained. Her own, exorbitantly expensive, swords had two runes each, and her armor just one. She’d invested considerable savings into their acquisition. The swords in front of her had nine each!
“Nine? Is that possible? Wouldn’t the complexity of each rune more than double as they were added?” Marta demanded in open shock.
“I think I understand their purpose but I don’t actually recognize several of them. The swords each have progressively more complex property and striking runes, three of each. I’ve never seen the last in each sequence but I can understand their function based on their similarity to the preceding runes. The final three on each are not the same, however. I-” she paused suddenly, having glanced at the armor in passing. “The armor has nine runes as well.”
“He truly let you arrest him while he had these on?” Franklin asked in disbelief after a few moments of silent mental digestion. The Mayor nodded quietly. Franklin looked at Anna for a moment, then locked gazes with Marta. “How strong is that cage? Actually, no,do you still have the “friend” the iruxi mentioned? He claimed he was only able to be caged because the guards were holding someone hostage.”
The Mayor’s eyes widened with concern, then he nodded firmly. “Yes, we do. We put him in the regular cells for now. He’s a leshy peddler, drives a cart selling whatever he can town to town. He passes through a few times a year, always has good quality. We asked him a few questions already, and he claims ignorance, says he met the creature on the road.”
“I recommend retrieving him. This creature you’ve captured, after what I’ve seen here and from meeting him in the square, this equipment surpasses what I expect of a Jotun-ranked Quester.” It was a chilling proclamation. Jotuns were some of the fiercest monsters in the world. The three varieties most often encountered in Silvitas-Stalar were stone, frost, and fire.
A fire jotun could battle the entire military force available to Marta, Franklin, and the Mayor combined and win. Not a group of fire jotuns, just one. A Jotun-ranked adventurer could actually kill such a creature in a one on one fight. Four of them were nearly guaranteed victory against any single known jotun except perhaps their highest kings and chieftains.
“If the iruxi suddenly makes a fight of this, even if he’s not from the Republic and won’t receive any support, he may still be able to kill all of us on his own without this equipment,” Marta explained somberly. “Granted, if we can use it against him, perhaps we’d stand a better chance, but I’ve never in my life heard of armor or weapons with nine runes on them. I can’t but imagine he has to be insanely strong to have acquired equipment of this magnitude.”
“I’ll send for the guards at once. It seems we have all been fools focused on far off threats instead of the monster in our midst,” the Mayor proclaimed, grabbing up a bell and ringing it furiously.
A young man Franklin had seen before rushed in. He wore similar livery to the butler, so perhaps he was a junior male servant. However, she was put on edge by how incredibly out of breath he was. He couldn’t have gotten that way just answering the bell, it hadn’t been five seconds yet.
“Lord Mayor! Fire! Explosives used in the town, fire everywhere, and reports of hobgoblins all over town. That prisoner in the square alerted the guards to them not a minute or two-” whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off by an extremely loud sound slamming into Franklin’s ears. Fire roared to life in the hallway outside.
“Attack! To Arms!” she cried, realizing whatever was happening had already reached the manor.
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August watched as the elven woman, Catherine, rode away. The pain and sadness in her eyes stung his heart. He had no clue what was happening in this town, but he had clearly stumbled into something fishy and messy and painful.
He still had no map and no answers. He couldn’t leave without bringing harm to his new friend, and now he was caught up in something painful for Catherine as well. An elf? Working as a maid, in the middle of a human town, with haunted eyes? What the hell was going on?
I need way more information. This is a complicated mess, and I’m stuck as a prisoner in the middle of it. If I don’t cooperate, they’ll probably hurt my only friend, but will they really give me a fair shake? Those women earlier, apparently knights? This world really is a fantasy setting in the literal sense. The outfits, the culture, the titles, especially the architecture. This town is designed a little messy, must be that stream they left running through. Why they didn’t just divert it I can’t imagine. Didn’t they have that ability in the medieval age? Hell, this isn’t earth, I guess I’ve no idea.
He sighed and uncovered the basket. The basket didn’t fit through the bars of his hanging cage, but he was still able to cobble together the bread and meat into a sandwich and eat it. It didn’t occur to him to worry about being able to actually eat bread until he’d done so, but it had gone down as easily as the jerky, at least.
“Tch, prisoners eating better than the guards,” Sergeant Barker muttered darkly. “Maybe I should smash that basket apart…”
A growl escaped his throat at the suggestion and one of his two guards jumped in a panic. That brought a laugh to his maw. He chuckled, though it came out lower and with an odd cadence. "Jumpy cops are bad news for everyone," he whispered mockingly
"What in the nine hells is a cop?" The other guard asked, annoyed.
"A copper, a way of referring to a… policing force. Town guards or town watch, basically." The young guy wasn’t an asshole, so August felt like answering him.
“That what they call it in the republic?”
“I’m not from this republic everyone keeps talking about,” August replied. “I don’t even know much about it, except apparently lizardfolk are-” he stopped talking as a very familiar scent entered his nose. Burnt wood. Burnt wood and something else. A smell of oiled weapons and oiled leather different from that of the guards. His gaze turned to follow the scent. The guards had yet to notice anything, though both of them paid attention to him sniffing the air.
His gaze led him to a building near the front gate, and shadows moving through the streets, hiding from view, but not well enough for Coal's eyes. Those were… slightly smaller and more wiry than humans, pointed ears too large for elves… long arms, skin gray in the shadows… They looked just like their pictures in the bestiaries. "Tell me, ah… watchman, what is your country's relationship with Hobgoblins?" he asked one of the guards watching him. "Tyler, wasn’t it?"
"What kind of idiot question is that? They're your allies, not ours. Raiders, thieves, kidnappers…" the sergeant trailed off, turning to follow Coal’s gaze, had not wavered while asking the question. He was still watching the figures in the shadows. "That's smoke. Strong scent of it, too," he added, confused, finally noticing the obvious.
"Well, that answers that," he muttered, and drew in a deep breath. Only one set of lines sprang to mind for this situation. It was a pity he didn't have a horn.
"FEAR!" His voice thundered out the word, and didn't stop. "FIRE! FOES! AWAKE! FEAR, FIRE AND FOES! FIRE AND FOES! AWAKE, YE PEOPLE!" He roared out, asking neither permission nor forgiveness.
It was the crack of thunder, a shaking sound which rocked the cage as he called out the warning cry. "Hobs! Hobs in the city! Fire is set, foes attack! Fear and courage, awaken!" His voice carried into every house and building on the square and beyond. His captors stared in shock at him, gripping their weapons. Then they shook themselves.
"What do you think you're doing?" The sergeant demanded. His spear was set and ready, for all the good it did. He actually shoved it up against Coal’s scale-armored throat.
His own gaze shifted to both guards, disdain burning inside them. "Your city is under attack and you ask me what I am doing? Fools! Defend your town like proper guards! Do your jobs!" He snapped, shouting at the pair of them in real anger.
In an instant they were in motion, running for the manor, shouting, "Enemy in the town! Militia to arms! Hobgoblin raiders attacking! Get the fire brigade moving!"
Coal slumped back in his cage as they began rousing the town, people coming out of houses with weapons or staves or axes or hammers. Others ran with buckets to the well. There was a small shrine on the square. Coal watched as people ran in and summoned the attendant, dressed in robes. He ran towards the fire, complaining loudly the whole while.
Had he.. actually started all this? The soldiers, the people, they'd responded. All of them looked terrified, especially of him, at least those who had the courage to look to begin with. In their eyes they were seeing a monster. Such a creature had spurred them to action.
A citizen was taking charge, a man with no armor, wearing a massive black stained apron. A blacksmith? He was giving orders to search the town while the now visible fire near the gate was responded to by yet more people. Bells were now ringing, some for the other, perhaps others for the enemies. Shouts came from a side street. “I saw them! Hobgoblins that way!” The original guard sergeant was nowhere to be found, but little Tyler was still around.
Tyler led a group of guards as they ran past with a number of townsfolk in hodgepodge armor and weapons. They ran past in very good two by two formation, and all the civilians and guards alike had shields, though many were wooden.
Fire and battle again. They were going to be fighting. People would die, again. He hadn’t been around real battle in eleven years, not since he’d left Afghan with his four year old daughter. Laila was still missing, yet here he sat!
He reached out and grabbed hold of a bar of the cage and began applying force. Then stopped when several townsfolk, running past, suddenly panicked and retreated from him. “Shit, shit shit,” he muttered. He’d probably get people killed if he broke out now. He’d probably get Ssol killed.
He sat back down, shaking, growling in the back of his throat. Caged, trapped, and blackmailed while his daughter was missing.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?!” He roared. “I just wanted a goddamned map!”
What the hell was he doing here? How was he supposed to do, well, anything?
August had failed out of the army. He was a civilian. He could hunt, sure. Camp, sure. He’d killed animals, sure. But he was just supposed to be enjoying a nice game with his daughter! Not facing a battlefield, not facing the prospect of people dying. Not face a town on fire. Not again. He’d left it all behind.
He took another look around, trying to keep from getting lost in his own head. His therapist had always said to avoid such thinking in a dangerous environment. The townsfolk didn’t look panicked. They were responding as best they could, but they weren’t winning. Too many fires dividing their attention, but their spirit was unwavering. At least until the Manor started to burn.