[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/B7KsN1D.png[/img][/center]
[hider=In the ashes of a former village, two weeks previous]

[color=F92D00][i]The village is gone. We’ll have to write a report to the baron.[/i][/color]

Gordes was lost. Every house and every homestead was broken into and ransacked. The larders were empty and all animals had been cut loose or slaughtered. The grain fields had been set ablaze, leaving behind nothing but black stems and ashes. As for the residents, not a single living soul could be found inside or outside the village. At this moment, the detachment from the local monastery was still finding bodies and adding them to a pile in the village square. All bore the signs of being cut to pieces, beaten to death, or peppered with arrows. Among the faces of the dead, even some children could be seen. 

Gerard looked away from the gruesome procession and turned to the two hooded neophytes behind him. A man and a woman, they were dressed in the robes and regalia of the red Rezaindians.

[color=F92D00]“Tristan. Misha.”[/color]

[color=1A7811]“Yes master.”[/color] [color=902EBD]“Master Castello?”[/color]

[color=F92D00]“I will continue the watch. Do one last sweep of the residences. Some children may have hidden under the floorboards.”[/color] It was a pointless order. Anyone with the Gift could tell there were no survivors to be found. 

[b]“By your command!”[/b] Gerard’s aides each gave him a quick bow and left to carry out their orders. If they knew they were being kept busy they certainly didn’t question it. The two youths had been assigned to the bald headed man as apprentices back when he was still in the Stresian order. Despite his blunt attitude towards them, Gerard was secretly grateful that the two were willing to follow him after leaving Chune's service. Tristan and Misha were talented. Their lives could have been spent conducting research and spreading knowledge. He had said as much many times, but it seemed they were adamant on staying by his side.

In these times of strife, many towns and villages found themselves in need of military aid. In light of King Arcel’s latest campaign, the local garrisons were lacking in manpower. It sometimes fell to the Quentic brotherhoods to fill the gaps. Unfortunately, word of the village’s plight had reached the church several days too late. When the servants of Echeran arrived, the carrion eaters had already begun to feast. The only job left to do was bury the victims and notify the owner of the fief. 

For the better part of an hour Gerard meditated on top of a comfortably flat rock. Using his sixth sense, he searched the immediate area for a foreign human presence. There was little chance of the attackers returning to a village full of corpses, but one had to be careful. For now, nothing seemed amiss. A while later he could feel someone coming from the square. Gerard opened his real eyes to see a gray chaplain approaching. 

[color=7D7E78]“Echeran empower you brother.”[/color]

[color=F92D00]“And you as well. What is the situation?”[/color]

[color=7D7E78]“Not good. Come with me.”[/color]

The two of them returned to the center of the village just as the burial rites began. Some of the priests were already circling around the rows of bodies with thuribles in hand. The incense covered the village square in a smoky haze. The scent of lavender and sage made Gerard’s nose tingle. The two men stopped a good distance from the proceedings so that they wouldn’t get in the way. 

[color=7D7E78]“The tax collector we brought from the castle helped us identify most of the departed. None of the bodies came from outside the village. Gordes had a small militia, but no dead enemy combatants were found. It was a one-sided victory.”[/color] The man in gray unfurled a rough looking piece of parchment paper and showed it to Gerard. On it was a handwritten transcript of the village’s last census alongside an estimate of casualties. 

[color=F92D00]“Only this many are missing? The Eskandr would never waste all these slaves.”[/color] The red Rezaindian almost sounded disappointed. The other man nodded. 

[color=7D7E78]“Given the distance from the coastline and the weapons we recovered from the scene, we think this might be the work of deserters.”[/color] 

Gerard grunted and spit at the dirt. [color=F92D00]“Feh. May the Judge damn their souls. Hrothgar sends his armies to slaughter us, and our soldiers turn on their own people? This war needs to reach a turning point soon or else this nation will consume itself.”[/color]

Those with the Gift were now working together to create a burial mound using force magic, while others assisted by clearing away broken wagons and other debris. There was not enough time or manpower to make personal graves for so many.

[color=902EBD]“Master Castellooo!!! A message for you sir!”[/color] Misha was hollering from a distance with a scroll in her hand. Gerard excused himself and met his apprentice halfway. After catching her breath a bit she handed him the sealed document. The older man’s eyes lit up in recognition when he saw the imperial seal.

[color=F92D00]“Jacques!”[/color] Gerard barked at a pudgy looking man who was assisting with the construction of the mass grave. The one in question halted his spell and trudged over to his elder. 

[color=F92D00]“I am needed elsewhere. I may not return for some time. Ensure that these people are given a decent burial. That is all we can do for them now.”[/color]
[/hider]


[hider=Parrench army camp, one week previous]
Gerard was a warrior, but he was no soldier. He found it difficult to relax in the presence of a force this size. In an attempt to find some peace of mind, he had elected to tend to one of the camp’s cook pots. This particular dish was going to be rabbit stew. The wild meat had been caught by the army’s rangers. With this many people to feed there was little time to prepare and recipes had to be kept simple. The only seasoning in the stew would be a couple cubes of rock salt and whatever herbs the camp followers picked on the way here. 

The noise was deafening. The pounding of the blacksmith’s hammers. Hundreds of horses and cattle. Thousands of men and women talking or shouting in unison. Gerard could barely hear the sound of his ladle scraping the bottom of the pot. The red priest’s only source of tranquility was the dancing flame of the campfire.

Misha found him just as the stew finished simmering. Unlike her master, the priestess had her hood down. Sweat was causing her jet black hair to stick to her neck. Gerard looked at her but didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence. He brought the ladle up and tasted the broth. It was a tad gamey. Rabbit was a somewhat lean meat. It was fine though. A hungry swordsman on the march would have little to complain about. 

[color=F92D00]“What is it Misha?”[/color] Gerard finally said. 

[color=902EBD]“Master, may I ask what you’re doing?”[/color] 

[color=F92D00]“Making stew.”[/color]

[color=902EBD]“I see…”[/color]

The young acolyte stood and watched her master for a minute. He continued to sit in his wooden chair, boredly stirring the pot without further comment. Gerard’s apprentice rolled her eyes at his cold demeanor. 

[color=902EBD]“Why?”[/color] Misha finally asked in exasperation. 

[color=F92D00]“Why?”[/color] Gerard parroted, seemingly unbothered by her irreverent tone of voice.

[color=902EBD]“Why are [i]you[/i] cooking stew at a time like this? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Captain Auclair?”[/color]

Gerard clicked his tongue. [color=F92D00]“Yes, I agreed to meet him. I never said it would be now.”[/color]

[color=902EBD]“Arrrggggh! We still need to decide our battle assignments and deliver a report to the general! We may be priests, but have you forgotten that we’re part of an army right now!?”[/color] Misha pulled at her bangs in frustration. 

[color=F92D00]“They can do as they see fit. I care not where the pieces move. My only goal is to kill as many Eskandr as I can.”[/color] Gerard growled. His response caused Misha to close her eyes and massage her temples. Despite their age difference, the young woman looked more like a defeated housewife than a student speaking to her teacher. 

Once she managed to regain her composure, Misha crouched down next to Gerard and watched him stir the pot. He wordlessly produced a spoon and held it towards her. She took it and dipped it into the stew, gently blowing on the morsel before taking a bite. 

[color=902EBD]“Hmm… not bad. I think supper will be starting soon. May I help fill the bowls master?”[/color] Misha gave Gerard a sideways glance. 

[color=F92D00]“You may.”[/color]
[/hider]

[h3]Location: Relouse - Defensive Encampment[/h3]

Gerard was on standby at the sidelines with his two apprentices. They had been granted the honor of being part of the assembly. Tristan and Misha were bell bearers while the bishop led them with censer in hand. In just a few minutes the king and queen of Parrence would be addressing a host of thousands. There were likely more troops gathered here than the entire population of Relouse. 

Tristan was visibly nervous. He leaned towards Gerard and whispered to him.

[color=1A7811]“Master, which pattern are we following again?”[/color] 

[color=F92D00]“Just use your sense of rhythm and do what the others do. Do not dare screw this up. We are in the presence of the crown and the archbishop.”[/color] Gerard turned around and looked Tristan in the eyes. The younger man backed away sheepishly. 

The first bell had rung. The chimes traveled through the mass of people as priests of every order shook their handheld bells and lit their censers. When the group next to theirs joined the clamor, Gerard and his students followed suit. Misha seemed to know what she was doing right away, while Tristan did his best to watch her hands and copy her. It was passable. Gerard held up his metal censer aloft and called upon the Gift. Lighting the coals gave him an instant of euphoria, but he was brought back to his senses by the scent of the sacred herbs. 

The king and queen projected their voices far and wide using the power of Force. [color=9ACD32]“Lover, Learner, Creator, Destroyer, Judge,”[/color] they began. [color=9ACD32]“All magics and all of creation pay homage to the divine Pentad who brought them into being. Thy existence is beyond human understanding, thy ways both arcane and divine, and thy gifts the foundations of life itself. May thy will be done now and forever.”[/color]

[color=F92D00][i]Amen.[/i][/color]

[hr]

[color=902EBD]“Master Castello, shouldn’t we be waiting at the rear of the army?”[/color] Misha questioned as the trio hiked down to the beach. Gerard regarded her with his usual grimace. He dug his staff a little harder into the sand as they walked. 

[color=F92D00]“Have you seen any Eskandr on the beach yet? Why waste the opportunity to leave a little surprise for them?”[/color] The frowning Rezaindian shaded his eyes with his hand to make it easier to see past the sun. The three servants of Echeran were not the only members of the army to have trekked down to the beach. There were knights of all sizes certainly, but many mages and lightly armored warriors as well. 

[color=F92D00][i]Is that a Yasoi?[/i][/color] Gerard thought to himself. He hadn’t met one of their ilk in months. [color=F92D00]“It looks like some of our associates are preparing the beach head already. We should help them for now. Let’s go.”[/color]