Wagon

The Realm of Men

Chapter 35: The reward

A breeze, strong and fiere, repeatedly batted Leofric in the face as he stood upon the high cliff overlooking the great expanse of water reaching out as far as the eye could see. He did not remember how he got here, but he knew that this is where he needed to be. He was clad in his steel and chainmail armour and his head was protected by a steel helm too, its visor shaped and decorated like the great maw of a roaring lion. Around the helmet was a gilded crown, also for ornamental purposes to display his authority and status, but it wasn't an actual real crown. In his right hand he held his bastard sword, its hardened steel forever blessed with the gold and white radiance calmly swirling around it like a mist. Leofric exhaled a cold breath through the visor and swept his narrowed gaze across the horizon. All along it lay dark clouds, threatening and infinite. A storm was coming. Was he ready for it? Behind him he heard light footsteps approach and a soothing aura fell over him. He turned his head slightly to the right to acknowledge the new arrival. She stood next to him; garbed in a delicate white robe with intricate patterns across its fabric. Her hair was both fair and long, and seemed to almost radiate with the same light as his sword. Her feet was bare but despite the crude walk to the cliffs remained immaculate, like she never truly physically touched the ground. She looked at him and smiled with her hands softly clasped before her. The same soothing feeling washed over Leofric again. He turned back his eyes to the looming dark on the horizon. She followed his gaze.

"Are you ready?" her soft voice asked.
"I don't know."
"You have to be. If you fall then they are all lost."

Leofric turned his head slightly towards her again but didn't look at her. He nodded, nothing else needed to be said. She smiled at him and unraveled her clasped hands to lay a palm on his armoured shoulder, then she turned and left. Leofric was left alone on the crags again, left alone to watch the dark horizon inch itself ever closer to him.



He opened his eyes and abruptly sat up. The scent of herbs and wood filled his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose briefly in a mixture of wonder and distaste. Leofric raised a hand and ran it through his hair and exhaled a deep breath. The dream was still very present in his mind. Though was it truly a dream? A vision? He did not know, but he did not dismiss the possibility. Regardless he couldn't do anything about it right now and instead spared a glance around the hut. He was alone, at least inside. The hearth was burning and the place had been tidied. Someone was still here. She was still here. Leofric frowned slightly as he remembered the druidess, then swept aside the blanket to get out of bed. He noticed that he was practically entirely undressed and bit down on his tongue. But at least his injures weren't hurting anymore. He could barely see them, in fact. Whatever ointment the druidess has applied, it had worked wonders. He rose up to his feet and got dressed in his padded leathers and black cloak. Finally he fastened the swordbelt around his waist and made for the door. He spared the hearth a glance as he passed it, his eyes falling upon the wooden figures of various animals. He couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship, it was truly impressive. He stepped through the door and exited the hut. The sky was grey and dull; rain was likely and he could already hear thunder in the far distance. Movement caught his attention and he followed it. At a nearby tree stood his black destrier, which too seemed completely recovered from the scrap with the brigands. Leofric twitched a smile and walked over to it, embracing it around the neck and stroking its mane.

"She is beautiful. Does she have a name?" a voice asked. Leforic turned around and saw the druidess stand a short distance away, watching him. He narrowed his eyes slightly and delayed in answer. "Storm."
"A good name." the druidess replied.
Leofric nodded slowly and stepped away from his horse to face the woman of the woods. "And do you?"
"Call me Dolores."
"I owe you my gratitude and my life, Dolores. It's not often someone gets to save the life of a king, and as such I feel obliged to reward you. Name your prize."
Dolores smiled, almost shyly. She was quiet for a couple of moments and then looked at him a bit warily. She knew his view on magic and so her wish gingerly parted her lips. "Can I travel with you, sire?"
Leofric paused. He looked at her in silence for a long moment, surprised if anything. Why someone like she wanted to travel with someone like him was a mystery. He bit his tongue in mild frustration. To reject her would be wrong. He had asked her prize and she had said it: it wasn't entirely unreasonable, and, he admitted to himself, she was evidently a very skilled healer. So he nodded to her and belatedly replied.
"Very well. You saved my life, allowing you to accompany me is the least I can do."
Dolores brightened up with a wide smile and before Leofric had said another word the red-headed druidess had ran off and disappeared behind her partially ruined hut somewhere. She re-appeared a short while after, sitting atop a saddled and spirited mule. She trotted up to him and smiled again. "So!" she began. "Where to?"

The Realm of Men

Chapter 34: His people

Leofric woke up to an unfamiliar herbalistic incense. The first thing he saw was a charred wooden ceiling that seemed to be on the verge of collapsing. He tried to move but had little success, his body felt stiff and unresponsive. A cold breeze swept over his face and Leofric glanced to the side with a mildly blurry vision, his eyes still adjusting. He was inside a burnt-out cottage. Half the building had collapsed and the interior was devastated except for the hearth, which was burning strong. The next thing that struck Leofric's mind was that he was in a bed. A thick fur blanket covered him from feet to chin to shield him from the cold winds breaching into the destroyed house. He frowned in some confusion. Where was he exactly? He tried to move again, this time with some success. He groaned in effort and pulled aside the blanket a bit when a voice nearby piped up.

"You should not move yet."

Leofric stopped and turned his head to look towards the direction of the voice. Near the hearth sat a woman on her knees, occupied with picking up and clearing away some of her personal belongings from the blackened floor. She was dressed in simple garments and had fiery red hair. She glanced up at Leofric and he quickly knew who she were - the woman from the woods. Reluctantly Leofric eased down a little and halted his attempt to rise up.

"You've been out for almost a day. Had to be while I was tending to your injuries." she continued.

Leofric looked down at himself and realised that he felt nothing. No pain. He remembered getting shot.

"You will feel stiff for a while but it's nothing to be concerned about. It's just a side effect from the salve I used to mend your wounds. By now I reckon it will dissipate within a couple of hours, and you'll feel right as rain again after that."

Leofric looked back to the woman and then around the cottage again. The hearth seemed to be only part of the cottage that had been spared. He noticed a handful of wooden figures standing ontop of the hearth. The figures were carved and shaped into different animals with a beautiful craftsmanship behind it. He saw a stag, a bear, and a fox. He continued to look around. Next to the bed stood his sword against the wall, sheathed in its scabbard. Whoever the woman was, she had not been a thief. He looked back to her and nodded slightly in a show of gratitude.

"Thank you..."
"There is nothing to thank me for. I am simply doing what is right, King Leofric."

Leofric frowned and glanced to her questioningly. "You know who I am?"

"Yes. I know who you are, your grace."
"How?"

She smiled thinly and rose up to her feet and approached the bed. She looked down at him with a general peaceful auro about her.

"I know much because I see much, and I see much because I am a druidess." she stated bluntly. Leofric was briefly caught off guard by her patency. He had heard of druids but never met any before. It was said that druids possessed abilities beyond that of the common man or woman. He frowned, suddenly realising that he might be in grave danger. He was in no shape to fight with his body still affected by the woman's salves. Leofric was renowned for his views on magic and those who wielded it, and here stood someone at his side, professing that she was one of those people. There was nothing stopping this woman from cutting his throat in an act of vengeance. Yet she did not, and she had saved his life...

"I know your ways, sire. I know of the resent you hold against sorcery and witchcraft, and I know the reason why. I can't say that I agree with it, but nor can I blame you for it. I may have acted in the same way perhaps. I assume you are asking yourself why I have helped you even after knowing who you are. For reasons other than those I explained to you, I want to show you that we are not all evil. We are just people, and like any people we too have both good and wicked amongst us. We are your people as much as anyone else in the Northlands."

She smiled and clasped her hands together infront of her. Leofric lingered his eyes upon her. He frowned still, but not in contempt, but in thought. He couldn't think of a reason why she would lie, and she appeared certain in her conviction. Being in her presence did not sit well with him, yet she appeared to hold no ill will against him. She had saved his life and openly admitted to being affiliated to a group of magical properties. It bothered him, but not in the ways he had anticipated. With a ever so slight nod to the druidess Leofric lowered himself back into the bed and elected to stare up into the ceiling again. Whatever he thought or felt about the present, he could do little against it while he remained bedridden. He closed his eyes, his thoughts circling around inside his head.

While he listened to the druidess return to cleaning up inside her cottage, he started to wonder if he had been wrong.

Into the Abyss

Year 2556.
Earth, UNF Beijing Headquarters.

Andrew sat in the cafeteria located on the second floor in the massive hangar. The cafeteria was mainly used by the hangar's personnel but occasionally officers from other parts of the complex came here to watch over vessels within the hangar bay as they were being prepared. With a cup of steaming hot chocolate in his hands Andrew glanced out from the windows on his left side, watching as large mech units moved around in the hangar bay, hauling ammunition, provisions and fuel into the cargo hold of the Stülcken-class corvette "Bismarck" currently occupying the hangar space. Before boarding, Alfred had told Andrew he was expecting additional personnel coming in from France, and that in turn had further delayed the Bismarck from taking off. They were already behind The Avalon's preliminary preperations and would instead have to rendezvous with the exploration ship at Lunar Orbital near the moon. Andrew had wished them the best of luck.

Andrew sipped carefully from his mug and looked away from the hangar bay. The cafeteria was empty except for a small group of mech-suit pilots sitting on the opposite end of the cafeteria. His attention was diverted when the military-grade watch around his right wrist displayed an incoming call. Andrew pressed on a small button to bring up the call on screen and then rose up to his feet after having read it. He had new orders and were to report in to his flotilla. He quickly emptied his cup of hot chocolate and promptly left the hangar.

Fifteen minutes later Andrew entered the building where the command staff of the Third Flotilla were sitting. He checked in and announced his presence via a terminal by the entrance and then made his way over to a nearby elevator that would take him up to the top floor. He turned to the left as he stepped out from the elevator and navigated his way through various corridors until he came upon a briefing room. He was the only one who had been summoned. Other than Andrew there was one other person in the room, an elderly woman bearing the navy's uniform. Andrew saluted her as he entered. "Ma'am."

The woman saluted as well. Commodore Marlene Ford had been leading the UNF's Third Flotilla for twelve years She had greying hair and the beginnings of wrinkles but was still tremendously tough and possessed tactical brilliance and charisma that made her a stellar superior to serve under. She gave a thin smile as she lowered her hand back to her side. "Good that you are here. Is everything alright with you, captain?"
Andrew nodded. He too had lowered his hand but stood to attention still. "Yes, ma'am. I'm jelous of seeing the Bismarck depart."
Marlene nodded and beckoned him over while she picked up a controller from a nearby desk. "You won't be for long. Come, look at this."
Andrew made his way over to a chair and sat down while Marlene pointed the controller at a screen on the opposite end of the room. She pressed on a button and the screen switched on. The screen displayed the Sol system as a whole, with a myriad of lines and dots throughout it. The screen moved and zoomed in to an icy dwarf planet.
"This came in an hour ago from Eris." Marlene pressed another button and a recording window appeared on the screen. On it they saw a woman wearing a headset, half her face smeared in blood. Marlene pressed the play button and the recording started.

"This is Chief Technical Officer Antonia Benítez of the F3-12 Communication and Relay Post. Our facility is under assault by an unidentified force. Our security is failing and we are losing control of our systems. We require urgent assistance from any available UN forces that receive this."

The recording ended as promptly as it started and Marlene put down the controller on the table and turned to face Andrew. She scowled in thoughtful concern and then gestured to the screen. "You heard. F3-12 is critical to our logistics within Sol. If we lose the station then large portions of the system will be blind. You're all I've got for this, Andrew. My hands are tied with Bismarck and so I must task you and your crew with this."
Andrew nodded. The rest of the Third Flotilla were on exercise on the other side of the sun, leaving Andrew and his crew as the only available asset to deal with the situation. It's not how he envisioned his return into space but he was always prepared that something like this might happen. "We'll deal with it, ma'am."
Marlene nodded in acknowledgement. "We know very little about the attackers so I will leave the ROE to you once you are there and can fully assess the situation. Do what you must, but keep F3-12 intact. You will set out immediately. Dismissed!"

Andrew sprung up to his feet and saluted, then he turned and rushed out from the briefing room and back through the corridors he came from. He ran to the elevator he first arrived in and descended the building. While he waited for the elevator to reach the bottom floor he sent out the urgent deployment order to his crew from his military-grade watch. As soon the elevator's two steel doors opened he almost threw himself out and sprinted out from the building. He turned around a corner and set off to the eastern end of the complex where he could acquire a vechicle that would take him to the military shipyards. And the clock was ticking.

Into the Abyss

Year 2556. 12 months after first contact.
Earth, UNF Beijing Headquarters.


The evenings here were almost always perfect. He wasn't entirely certain why. Perhaps it was the cuban cigars that did it, or perhaps it was because his office lay on the western end of the complex, granting him beautiful sunsets during cloud-free days. It was the combination of both he punctuated and puffed from his cigar. Dressed in the white and blue digital pattern working uniform, Captain Andrew Winters sat in his sunchair on the balcony outside his office. He wore a pair of black aviator sunglasses and had his feet kicked up against the balcony railing. With a cuban cigar in hand he gazed out over the near endless city of awe-inspiring skyscrapers and a myriad of circling train tracks navigating through it all from the results genius engineering. Tonight was one of those perfect evenings. The setting sun reflected off of the glassy skyscrapers and the air was moderate, yet despite all this Andrew could not find any peace for his mind this evening. Far west from the United Nations Fleet headquarters lay a massive civil shipyard, which purpose was to construct and launch exploration vessels for mankind's mission to conquer the stars. From his balcony Andrew had a brilliant view over it. For the past year the shipyard had been inactive in the wake of humanity's first encounter with sentient life beyond their own species. Andrew's rank did not grant him any insight into the details of the event, but shortly after the reported first contact exploration vessels were replaced with military ones, and exploration routes were replaced with patrol patterns. For ten months the exploration effort into the reaches of the Milky Way were put on hiatus as the United Nations gazed out into the galaxy with a rising pulse. Nothing else happened. No other reports of extraterrestrial contact came in. By the end of 2555 the UN breathed out in uncertain relief and finally dared to resume their exploration missions. Two months ago a civil exploration vessel named "The Avalon" had been moved to the shipyard Andrew was now staring at. It did not sit well with him, not yet. Twelve months were not enough time, he thought. They needed at least a few more to be a hundred percent certain that nothing lurked beyond the watchful eyes of their radars.

His thoughts were abrupted by someone knocking on his office door.
"Come in." Andrew half-hollered over his shoulder.
He heard how the door to his office opened and then shortly after closed again. Light footsteps approached him but he did not care to look. He had some idea who it was. The footsteps stopped next to him. Andrew puffed from his cigar again and pulled up the aviators to rest above his forehead as he glanced to the right with a slight squint, the setting sun staring in his eyes.
"I have the file you asked for, sir." a woman's voice of asian divergence spoke up.
Andrew blinked and waited until he could see her clearly before he held out his hand. The woman had almost black hair, tied up behind her head in a ponytail and was dressed in a similar uniform as he, the only difference being her national flag upon the left arm. Hers was China, his was the United States of America. She handed over the file and stood at ease, seeing as the captain was in a similar state.
"Thank you, Liú." Andrew replied. Liú nodded and then turned around to depart the office. Andrew waited until he heard the door close behind her before he turned his attention to the file and opened it. Within lay the details of The Avalon's mission, and its military escort. At first the civil management had objected to the escort, but finally succumbed after pressure from several UNF admirals that insisted the protection was absolutely necessary. Prior to 2555 the civil exploration ships had been able to scour the Milky Way without protection. Those days were over, at least for the time being. Andrew merely skimmed through the page detailing the mission that would take The Avalon to the edge of charted space. Instead he turned a page and with higher interest studied the ship that would accompany The Avalon. The UNF vessel "Bismarck" had been assigned as the security detail. A suitable choice, Andrew thought to himself. Bismarck was a corvette, constructed in Germany. It was agile and fast, with outstanding stealth and radar capabilities. Alfred Bauer was the commanding officer of Bismarck. He was german, just like his ship. Andrew knew Alfred well. He was older than Andrew by almost a decade and carried a brilliant charisma to him. A charisma that would be sorely needed at the edge of the known galaxy, Andrew thought with a thin smile.

He closed the file and rose up from the sunchair. He put out the cigar and then walked into his office and made his way over to the door, and exited the room. He stepped out into a long and unimpressive hallway and veered off to the right. After a hundred yards he stopped by a door leading into another office. He knocked but did not wait and immediately stepped inside. At a desk sat a uniformed man with a holopad in his hands which he skimmed through with a bored look on his face. He looked up as Andrew stepped inside.
"Busy, Alfred?"
"Not at all. Come in." Alfred replied and put away the holopad. "What's going on?"
Andrew walked over to the desk and raised the file he held in his hand. He then sat down in a chair opposite of Alfred and dropped the file on his desk. Andrew leaned back and clasped his hands over the midriff with an amused smile.
"Were you going to just jump off into space without saying goodbye to your best pal in Beijing?"
Alfred scratched his cheek and took on a thoughtful look. "I was planning on waving as I passed by..."
"Wow. I might've almost noticed that then." Andrew replied. The two officers laughed briefly, yet Andrew noticed something in Alfred's eye, a look of absence and perhaps concern. As if Alfred read his mind, he spoke up before Andrew could ask.
"The crew is a bit on edge, you know. As am I. It may have been a year ago but that doesn't mean we all believe we're suddenly alone in the universe again."
Andrew rolled a shoulder. "I hear you. I think it's on the mind of everybody. But you've got a kickass stealth corvette, what's to worry about?"
"The Avalon." Alfred said with a pensive frown. "She's a beauty but she's no ninja."
"Getting cold feet?"
"Absolutely not." Alfred replied determinedly. "My crew and I will watch over them like a fox."
"Hawk." Andrew interjected.
"What?"
"Nothing.
Alfred shrugged and then looked down at the holopad on his desk as the screen flashed up with an incoming message. Alfred took the holopad and read through the message. When he was done he tucked away the pad and stood up.
"Seems like they're too eager over there. The Avalon is already prepared and will depart later by twenty-three hundred."
"And they informed you just now? Nice. Bureaucrats at their finest."
Alfred sighed and grabbed a jacket, camouflaged in the same pattern and white-blue colours like the rest of his uniform. Finally he pulled on a cap over his head and made for the door leading out from his office.
"Have fun babysitting." Andrew said over his shoulder as Alfred closed the door behind him.

The Realm of Men

Chapter 33: A lion's roar

The hooves thundered against the road as Leofric's destrier carried the king onwards. Snow had began to fall again, further dissipating what verdant scenery remained. Soon naught but cold and snow would dominate the land as winter arrived in ernest. Leofric had departed from his encampment a day ago. He had gone alone, much to the extreme dismay of his remaining knights and officers, but this is something he had insisted to do alone. In truth, it was actually safer that way. With his encampment left in competent hands he had then left, making his way to Cliffport. The journey would take at least two to three days on horseback but Leofric intended to reach the harbour town in less time, even if it meant spurring his destrier to the brink of unhealthy exhaustion. He had left lightly armoured, bearing dark-grey padded cloth and auburn leathers with a simple black and hooded cloak draping down from his back and shoulders. The only thing that could give him away as something else other than a mere traveler or sellsword was his delicate sword, but the blessed weapon was both sheathed and hidden behind the cloak.

Dusk had settled and the king was in the process of contemplating whether he should find shelter and camp for a couple of hours, more so to allow his quadrupedal companion to rest up a bit. Electing that it was for the better, his course of action was abruptly interrupted by something he saw a few miles away. Smoke rose to the sky behind a large cluster of trees. Leofric looked around him - he was out in the middle of nowhere between forests and fields, but surely someone lived in such remote places. Huntsmen, most likely. But the smoke he saw was not slim enough to come from a chimney, but rather a fire, a large one. Sighing irritably Leofric reaffirmed his grip around the reins and urged his destrier with haste towards the direction of the rising smoke column. He quickly closed the distance between himself and the apparent fire, thundering across a field with mild slopes and frozen earth.

My Hider

youtube.com/watch?v=c4H7FRz5PEo

Nearing the trees Leofric held in the reins. A figure had exited the woods, running straight for him. Coming closer, Leofric saw that the figure was that of a woman, with a fiery mane flowing behind her. She appeared to be dressed in the simple clothing one might expect from commoners and Leofric deducted that the smoke he saw did indeed come from a fire, and that it was this woman's home that had caught it. She must have seen the incognito monarch approaching and rushed to ask him for help. Exhaling, Leofric urged his destrier on to a trot to meet the woman. But only shortly after she had left the trees more people exited them, a group of five, running after the woman frantically like a battue. Leofric saw that the group behind the woman held tools or weapons, and one held a torch. The reality of the actual situation dawned on the king quickly and he galloped onwards to meet the woman before the group behind her caught up.

"Help! Please!" the woman cried out as Leofric approached her. Her feet gave away and she fell heavily to the ground as Leofric was upon her. She was panting madly and sought to crawl away as if a pack of hellhounds were upon her heels. The truth wasn't too far off.

"Madame?" the king hollered, holding in the reins again. "What is happening?"
"They're-- after me! Please, help! They will kill me!" she replied beneath her breath, barely able to muster the words.

Looking up, Leofric saw that the group that had chased her had almost caught up. They had slowed down to a walk as they saw the mounted man stand above their hunt. Now Leofric could better see the group and what they were armed with. The one holding a torch was a middle-aged female, and in other other hand she held a knife. The other four were men of varying ages, three of them were armed with woodcutting axes and rusted swords, the fourth man held a hunting now. They stopped a distance away from Leofric and the redheaded female.

"Fair evenin', good man." one of the men said. "Looks like yous stumbled 'pon our little prey here. Mighty kind o' you to stop her for us."
"Prey? What is the meaning of this?" Leofric inquired with a frown.
"Well, you see..." the same man from the group replied. "...that harlot sprawled out 'fore you is a witch, aye. Practising 'er evil powers, castin' curses upon us good, honest folk." the man said with fervent conviction. "We're here to rid the land o' her and her magic. Aren't we?" he turned to the rest of the group. They all nodded grimly.

Leofric frowned deeper. Unlike the woman on the ground below him, the group were dressed in ragged leathers and clothes. They were all unkempt and looked maladjusted, rather than the good, honest folk they claimed to be.

"No." the king consicely answered. "You will not lay your hands on her. Turn around and leave."

The group's leader frowned and tightened his grip around an axe he was holding. "Fuck do you mean no? You a witch lover? She's cast a spell 'pon you already?"
"Leave." Leofric reiterated, subtly moving his right hand towards the grip of his sword.
"She's got 'im in her clutches!" the man shouted to his companions. "We'll just have to kill both o' you then. All the same to me." the leader grinned to Leofric and raised his axe.

Leofric drew his sword with a rasping sound. The blade shimmered prominently with its golden white flames against the encroaching darkness of the evening. The armed group gaped at the king, but their leader swiftly recovered with renewed contempt.
"Fuck, 'e is a witch too! Get 'im first!"

With a cry of anger the group threw himselves forward at Leofric and the woman. The fiery haired female desperately crawled backwards as Leofric urged his destrier into a full-on gallop. The brigands, which they very well appeared to be, scattered to the left and right to prevent being run over by the muscular beast and its rider. The female who held the torch and knife were the slowest of the five, and she looked up in horror as Leofric swung his sword from ontop the saddle. The cut almost beheaded the female and she was dead even before she hit the ground in a bloody heap.

"Fuckin' Margret!" the leader cried out and snarled. He pointed at the others and then at Leofric. "Kill 'im already!"

The brigands looked from their leader to Leofric and rushed towards the king from all sides while the lead brigand turned around to face the woman they were initially hunting. She scrambled up to her feet and ran, with the brigand after her. Leofric had acted before the cutthroats and was already circling around them. He approached them anew, this time turning his attention to a younger man who held in the hunting bow. He young man, more or less a mere boy, widened his eyes in fear and shock as the rider with a flaming sword rapidly closed in on him. Struggling to draw and nock and arrow, the bowman cursed and looked up just in time to have his head near split in two by an overhead swing from the king's blessed weapon.

Leofric heard the others shout something but he was already galloping at full pace towards the brigands' leader. He was pursuing the commoner woman across the field and they had veered off to the left. The woman was surprisingly quick on her feet and the brigand struggled to keep up. As the sound of approaching hooves reached his ears he nervously glanced over his shoulder as he ran. He saw a horse and very little else before he felt something tremendously heavy hit him like a sledgehammer, and he was sent flying to the side.

Leofric pulled in the reins and steered his horse aside after he had collided into the brigand. He looked around for the red-haired woman but could not see her. Suddenly his horse neighed in agony and almost reared up, Leofric had to struggle to keep it under control when he noticed the arrow shaft sticking out from its neck. Another arrow hit, this one dug deep into the destrier's flank. With another terrified neigh the beast toppled aside, bringing Leofric with it. Both the rider and horse crashed down heavily against the frozen earth and Leofric cried out briefly, his left leg stuck beneath the weight of his horse. Luckily he had managed to maintain his grip of the sword for he had to raise it above him as a large two-handed woodcutting axe suddenly swung down for his skull. Leofric held the swordgrip with his right hand and pressed his left against the steel for leverage, its flames doing no harm upon his palm. With a quick motion he moved his sword to the left, causing the axe-head to slide down towards the crossguard. Leofric then twisted his sword around so the axe-head was locked between the crossguard and blade and promptly disarmed the axe from its wielder. The king stared up at the brigand leader who was now unarmed, standing over the gravely injured horse. The man snarled and sought to throw himself down at the monarch, but Leofric had managed to free his left foot from its stirrup and kicked a boot into the brigand's chest, causing him to topple aside with a painful groan, not so much from the kick itself, but from previously being barged into by the king's powerful destrier.

Leofric huffed a breath and managed to just pull his right leg free from underneath the horse. He rose up to his feet, his leg aching. Next to him lay the brigand leader who did not seem particularly eager to rise up for the time being. Leforic glanced around for the other assailants and saw one of them approaching from the direction they initially clashed at. A suddenly pain in his right leg caused the king to fall down to it. An arrow had pierced through it near the thigh. Leofric glanced up to see where the shot had came from but was knocked over to his back as another arrow lodged itself into his left chest just beneath the collarbone. He groaned painfully and grit his teeth. He heard rushing footsteps and looked up, noticing one of the bandits rapidly approaching with a rusted sword in hand. He plunged down his weapon against Leofric but the strike was expertly parried away by the king. Leofric immediately retaliated, swinging out low against the man's left ankle and nearly severed the leg from the foot. The brigand cried out in immense pain and fell backwards, giving Leofric enough to struggle up to his feet, though he nearly fell over again as the arrow in his leg reminded him through a painful surge.

"Whoreson!" a voice shouted and Leofric glanced towards it. It was the shooter, as evident by the hunting bow he held in his left hand. However Leofric noted that he had no more arrows, for in the right hand the bandit now gripped a simple arming sword. The bandit lashed wildly against Leofric with untrained inaccuracy, attacks that were easily parried time and again by the injured monarch as steel upon steel filled the air around them. Leofric reposted, easily disarming the bandit before running him through the chest with the blessed sword. The man's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth, yet no sound parted his lips. Leofric twisted the sword around and then retracted it. The bandit fell over, his life expended.

A groan reached Leofric's ears and he turned around, watching the bandit leader struggle up to his feet with a hand pressed against his chest. Judging by his pained expression he must've broken a rib or two from the horse's collision and only just now realised it. The man glanced around, noticing each of his fallen companions in their bloody display and raised a hand to Leofric in what could only be interpreted as surrender.

"Please..." the leader began, yet his words were cut off abruptly in his throat as his held out hand suddenly severed from the arm. He screamed out in agony and shock but that scream was also cut short as Leofric struck the man down with a strike that reached from hip to shoulder. Leofric thought he could notice the man's guts spill out just before he collapsed with his face first against the earth. The king then glanced around again in search for the woman he had saved, yet saw no sign of her. Instead, he turned back to his fallen destrier yet failed to walk to it, his right leg giving away beneath him, and the arrow in his chest took its toll.

With an exasperated exhale Leofric collapsed amongst the bloodied remains of the bandits.

The Realm of Men

Chapter 32: The Duke

The column of horsemen crossed the shallows with heavy hooves and ascended a small hill where they had a good overview of the verdant land stretching out before them, from one end of the horizon to the other. They had left the king's encampment half a day ago and galloped north with haste, with a mission to ensure the country's nobility were not fed malcontent information regarding Leofric's decision outside Monarch's Rise. They had arrived at their first destination - the Duchy of Midiand. A demesne that so far had not raised a hand to aid against the invaders.

"Cowards and vipers the lot of them. No doubt they sit behind their walls, whoring themselves away at their luxury while good, decent men like ourselves raise arms against our enemy." a rider spoke up with a cough. Several others nodded or muttered in accord. Not a single one objected, for none amongst the riders had been born or raised in Midiand. There was little love to be found for the duchy from anyone not born inside its borders. The duke was seen as lax and impassive to the realm's troubles and the duchess an easily tampered harlot. Unfortunately for everyone else the duke's family claim to Midiand was legitimate and stretched back many decades, so disposing them in favour of more reliable rulers had proven to be an issue.

Arthur rubbed an eye with his gloved hand and blinked sluggishly. He could see a few farms and clusters of buildings in the vast landscape before him. Far to the west raised a thick forest that contined on indefinitely, and to the east were a series of hills. Somewhere beyond the hills lay the duke's castle. Arthur pointed to them.
"There. Our good, unsolicited host resides beyond those hills. We should be there by nightfall."



Arthur and his followers trotted up to the castle gates an hour after the sun had settled beneath the horizon. The column held no banners as they approached and must have been mistaken as a group of highwayman, for a crossbow bolt flew straight past Arthur's head. Arthur raised a hand and the column stopped. They could hear laughter coming from the castle walls, at least three voices. One of them shouted out moments after.

"Who goes there, eh!? We don't want anything tonight! Unless you bring women?" More laughter resounded the walls.
"Can you believe these are the duke's men?" a knight behind Arthur spoke up quietly to his comrades.
"I can." another replied. The column laughed derisively.

Arthur glanced up to the walls and could see three men look back down. He did not see their faces for they wore helmets and the darkness shrouded the rest. Already did he loathe being near the Midiands. He approached an additional few feet. A crossbow was aimed down at him.

"Oi! Not too close lest I put the next one betwixt your eyes!"

Arthur sighed and raised a palm. "We are friends of the duke! I am Sir Arthur of the King's Guard and I must speak with your liege lord urgently!"

The guardsmen on the walls were silent and the crossbow continued to point at Arthur for an uncomfortable amount of time. He saw their heads turn as they conversed lowly with each other before finally the crossbow was raised. Two of the guardsmen disappeared while the one with the crossbow remained, leaning over the battlements.

""Why did you not just say so from the beginning, my sir?" the guardsman replied with a cold tone, void of respect that any kingsman deserved. The drawbridge was lowered and the thick iron portcullis behind it raised. The columned contined into the castle courtyard and dismounted. A few guards approached to take the horses away but they were firmly rejected by the knights. A large, bald man in chainmail and surcoat bearing the Midiand colours walked up to Arthur. On one side he carried a simple arming sword and on the other a lumberjack's axe. Both his hands were resting upon the weapons in an idle manner, or so Arthur hoped.

"What are the king's men doing here past sunset?" the bald guardsman asked cautiously. Arthur sized up the guardsman, he was about the same height as himself and carried a grizzled look of veterancy. He then looked around the courtyard and noticed that more or less every castle guard on duty, near two dozen, watched the knights while whispering between themselves. Arthur grabbed his helmet and pulled it off his head. He mustered a polite albeit forced smile to the bald man. "I need to speak with the duke." Arthur consicely replied. "And who are you?"

"Cael." the bald guard answered as politely as he could. "I am the Sergeant-at-Arms here."
"I am Sir Arthur. Take me to the duke, sergeant." Arthur nodded. The air in the courtyard was cold, and not only due to the winter.

Cael nodded begrudgingly and turned on his heels. He barked out an order and the idle, staring guardsmen sprung up to life and returned to their tasks at hand. Arthur told his men to stay in the courtyard and gave his helmet to a knight before following on behind Cael. The two men entered through two large wooden doors leading into the main castle building where the duke resided. The inside was dark, almost too dark. A handful of candles or torches were all that kept the halls and rooms lit up and Arthur had to look down at his feet on several occasions to ensure he was not about to trip over something. Cael led him up a set of stairs and stopped infront of another room, closed off by two doors.

"Wait here a moment, sir. I'll inform His Grace that you are here." Cael said and promptly disappeared through the doors, closing them behind him.
Arthur sighed and pulled off his leather gloves and tucked them in behind his belt. He rubbed an eye and spotted a mirror upon a nearby wall. He stepped over and looked into it, at himself. His armour and tabard were dirty, muddied by the strife and struggle that had followed ever since the Raylian attack on Lowburg. His short hair was equally dirty and his features weary, his eyes appearing almost wild looking. Arthur grinned to himself. It was perfect; now he got to show the duke how life was beyond the comfort of his castle and the reality they faced.

"Sir. His Grace is ready to see you." Arthur turned around and noticed Cael stand at the doors again. He had not heard the sergeant return.
"Good."

The room behind the two doors was large and lavish with curtains of different colours, exotic food and drink lined up on tables and furniture that was akin to that of the royal keep. The room was lit up by torches on the walls and Arthur could notice a couple of doorways further inside, leading into other rooms. Cael stopped in the center of the room and bowed.

"Your Grace. Here he is." Cael stepped aside and Arthur looked ahead. A large, somewhat rotound man sat upon a throne-like chair. He was dressed in rich cloth with the colours of his house, deep blue and black, with the contrast of a red cloak around his shoulders. The duke lazily rested an elbow against his chair and studied Arthur with a pair of scheming eyes. A similar chair like the duke's stood next to him, although it was empty.

"Duke Meinolf." Arthur said and bowed, just barely.
"Sir Arthur himself in the flesh." Meinolf answered with a dull tone. "I welcome you into my castle on this terrific night. To what do I owe this visit? I'm assuming it has something to do with that dreadful thing at the capital..."

Arthur straightened out his posture again into its full imposing height. He gave the duke a heedful look. "On the contrary, your grace, I am here to ensure you that there is little cause for concern regarding the safety of your demesne. We--" Arthur was suddenly abrupted as the duke stood up awfully quick for a man of his figure.

"Let me stop you right there, sir!" Meinolf hollered. "My outriders tells me that the king has dismantled his siege camp and marched north. North! That's this way! And you mean to tell me that I have no cause for concern? If His Majesty was capable of dealing with this... this enemy, he would have done so already! But instead he marches this way, no doubt to command me to lend him my soldiers for his war."

Arthur frowned. Meinolf seemed to have been quite prepared with his response.

"The situation is being dealt with, Your Grace. The king has seen what the enemy has to offer in terms of resistance and bought valuable time to prepare ourselves accordingly with."
"Bought?" Meinolf asked.
"Yes." Arthur replied with his irritation growing by the minute. Meinolf was out after something specific.
"You mean he treated with the enemy? Instead of battling them?" Meinolf persisted, his eyes widening.

Arthur seethed. Meinolf was not a military man, yet he spoke with the pretense of being accomplished in the matter.

"There are more aspects to war than just fighting, Your Grace." Arthur replied swiftly, smartly diverting the discussing away from the dangerous direction it was going, as Meinolf just gave Arthur a perplexed stare.
"Fine." the duke finally said and slowly sat down into his chair again."Then... is there anything I can do to help?"

Arthur pondered.

"Not directly. Maintaining order here and keeping the good people of Midiand safe and free of worry would be helpful enough, Your Grace."
"That's all?" Meinolf inquired.
"Yes. Unless you'd rather supply the king with soldiers and supplies?"

Meinolf abruptly shook his head but realised his mistake quickly enough and cleared his throat dismissively.

"No, I believe you are right, sir. Order and stability must be maintained here. We are next in line from the capital and my people are afraid. It will calm their nerves to see good, stout men of the sword patrol the roads and streets, ever ready to keep dark forces at bay." Meinolf smiled.

Arthur nodded again. If the duke's own guards were any template to go by, then he was more than pleased to let the Midiand army sit idle in their own province instead of risking everything at the frontline. "Glad to hear it, Your Grace. Then all is well?"

Meinolf nodded.

"Then I shall depart. I bid you a good night, Your Grace. I apologise for disturbing you with this at this hour."
Arthur bowed again and quickly turned around to leave before Meinolf could say anything else. Cael, who had stood silent at the side throughout it all, followed the knight out of the duke's petition chamber. They returned down the stairs and stepped outside on the courtyard again. Arthur took a breath of cold air and went straight to his destrier. The knight who had taken his helmet extended the headgear back and Arthur took it, shoving it back over his head.

Moments later the column of knights exited the castle gates. Arthur rode at the head of the column and steered them down the road and away from the castle. They would need to find a place to rest for the night, and as long it was far away from Meinolf and his petty band of soldiers then it was good enough for Arthur.

Still, he had the gnawing concern in the back of his head that the duke had something else up his sleeve...

The Realm of Men

Chapter 31: Departure

The last of the crates and barrels were loaded up onto the many wagons that had been lined up along the King's Road outside of Monarch's Rise. With an agreement struck with the outlander king, it had been decided that it was no longer necessary to sit and freeze within a war camp outside of the capital city. Out of the fifteen thousand fighting men and women that had joined up with the army, only one and a half thousand were to remain and guard each road that lead to and from the city - the rest had been permitted to return home in an orderly march. At sea beyond the city, the final ships that had patiently retained a blockade around the grand capital were setting sail to return back to their home ports. What could have turned into a massive massacre had instead been resolved without bloodshed at the cost of national prestige. Word of what had transpired at Monarch's Rise would undoubtedly reach the ears of distant queens and kings, and they in turn would undoubtedly look upon the Northlands with scorn and revolt.

Yet the Northerners are a stubborn and practical people. Vengeance runs deep and cold within their veins. One day soon they would return to reclaim their capital city from the otherwordly invaders. This Leofric vowed to his men.

"It would have been at a terrible cost, perhaps even defeat." Leofric said. He sat upon his armoured warhorse that stood on a small raise in the ground, watching the large column marching by below. The northern soldiers looked weary, yet relived to be on their way home. Their halberds and spears were resting upon their shoulders in standard method while on the march, and many had their heads wrapped around in thick cloth or scarfs to better shield against the unnatural cold that had gripped the area around the capital. Next to Leofric sat Arthur upon his own destrier. He nodded.
"The odds were stacked against us. We've never faced anything like this before. It was wise to withdraw, perhaps now we can find a way to swing this into our favour."
"Let us hope so." Leofric concisely replied.

The two men turned their horses around and began to trot up towards the head of the column. Like many others, Leofric had coiled a scarf around his head to keep the warmth. His helmet hung from the saddle and his sword was tied against it as well, at his right side near the hand. Eventually he tugged down the scarf and left it around his neck, as the cold gradually dissipated in severity the farther away they marched from the city.
"What now?" Arthur inquired after moments of silence.
"I will find my daughter and take her to a safe location. The decision I have made will throw the nobility into tantrum. While I track down Josephine, you will go north in my stead and hound the nobility into line before they overreact." Leofric replied.
Arthur nodded in understanding. "I will see it done."

The column continued northwards, ever onwards. After half a day's march the force had stopped and raised camp at a ruined castle from the days of old. The morale had lifted, many of the soldiers were in a good mood knowing they were soon back at home, family and hearth.

But there was no respite for Arthur. He had gathered an entourage of mounted lesser knights to accompany him on his mission, and as twilight fell over the country the knights set off into gallop along the northern roads, intent on reaching the many domains of the nations' lords and ladies before any misinformation did.

The Realm of Men

Chapter 30: Thoughts

Arthur turned the cup upside down and slammed it down against the crate. He scooped up the few coins presented upon it and rose up to his feet with a laugh. His opponents, three swordsmen, looked at him with sour expressions. They had challenged the knight to a game of dice - and lost.

"What's your trick, sir?" a swordsman asked.
"No tricks, good man. Just a whole lot of luck." Arthur started. "I don't dictate which side the dice lands on."

The soldiers around the crate muttered between each other, they had no arguments against that, they knew the knight was right. Luck was the key to winning. Arthur raised two digits to his temple in a salute and then turned around to depart. He stored away his newly gained coins and dragged his cloak around him as a cold breeze swept through the camp. Two days had passed since the two kings had battled on the field and ultimately reached an agreement. Arthur pondered whether Leofric was genuine or if it had simply been a ploy. He had not asked the king about it yet, nor was he certain if he ever would. His thoughts drafted over to what he had seen on the field, hovering above it - the radiant being of white and gold - the Lady. If there had been any doubt as to her existance, that doubt had been put to rest. Everyone had seen her, and now she was free.

Someone suddenly barged into Arthur from the side and a audible ruckus followed as something crashed against the frozen ground. Arthur looked to his side and met the gaze of a female soldier. Her expression was twisted into shock and fear at once and she quickly ducked down to pick up the spears and swords that she had carried.

"I am so sorry, sir!" she piped up. "I did not see you."

Arthur twitched a smile and crouched down to grab a spear that had rolled away the furthest and held it out for the nervous soldier. She quickly took the weapon and added it to the others she held in her arms.

"No harm done, think nothing of it." Arthur said as he straightened out his posture again. The woman rose up also and Arthur could tell from her armour that she was an outrider. She bore no headgear and her auburn air was set up in a rushed ponytail. Her features were grimy but she was somewhat of a belle, Arthur realised. He gave her a nod and gestured her onwards. The woman bowed her head in reverence and scurried away out of sight. Arthur turned around and took a step forward to continue on himself, but promptly stopped. He spun around once more and looked around him. The path he had been walking on was quite wide with ample space, enough to move entire carts around without the risk of running someone over. How the outrider managed to barge into him on the spacious path was a officially a mystery. Unofficially however, Arthur could speculate as to why. It amused him.

Arthur continued through the encampment. Everywhere soldiers sat huddled near their fires or conducted varying tasks. The unnatural cold was becoming a nuisance even to the durable northerners. Arthur swung around a tent and stepped up a small slope. In the distance rose the capital city, twisted and tainted by the presence of its now otherwordly inhabitants. A shudder surged through Arthur, whether it was the cold or not he did not know. Whatever they could throw at their foe it was likely that they could throw something worse right back at them.

Whatever arrangement the two kings had reached he desperately hoped it was to some benefit to them. If not, a brutal and harsh siege awaited.

The Realm of Men

Chapter 29: Two kings

An eerie silence fell over the now scorched fields. Leofric weighed the sword heavily in his hand as he collected his breath behind the helmet's lion faceguard. He stared at Enid who stood on a knee a distance infront of him, his healthy hand clutching against his injured one. The adrenaline subsided and Leofric winced as a surge of varying pain ruptured through his body - realising how much of a battering he had taken in the duel with the Rider King. Leofric did his best to ignore the pain and took a step forward, and then another - he kept going towards his kneeling opponent with his sword at the flank. He stopped infront of Enid.

"You knew that Sorcerer. He's the one you have been searching for?" Leofric inquired and glanced down at the other king, who nodded in silence while powering through the immense pain in his hand. Leofric continued. "Why?"
Enid groaned briefly in agony and then straightened out his posture to gaze up at the northern king. "The Sorcerer is known to me. My advisor knows more than I do on this account - but we need him to power a portal. I will bring all of my people here. Before the end times."
Leforic raised his head to look at the opposite army on the other side of the field. Silence returned, with only the howling wind as company. The breeze tore and dragged in the northern king's black cloak as he stood near statue-like for several moments, before finally gazing down upon Enid again. "I don't know who that Sorcerer is but he has approached me before, there too he asked me to make peace with my enemy." Leofric delayed and clutched the grip around his sword tighter, the gilded flames around the steel flickering. He could almost feel the tension between the two forces and the bloodbath that would follow should he strike down Enid here and now. But his army would triumph - if not in skill then in numbers. It would end this sudden, unwarranted war.
The Northern King's blessed sword pierced the scorched ground with ease, undoubtedly due to its enchantment, and he stepped closer to the Rider King, almost looming over him now.
"There is only one place in this world that could harbour Sorcerers of that calibre. Its people murdered my grandfather. They have wronged my dynasty and made war against my kingdom. You have earned my ire with your unprovoked invasion, outlander, but -you- are not my true enemy. -They- are. This needless conflict must end. I will even help you search for this Sorcerer, and allow you to hold the city and summon your people from their demise - but this ends now." Leofric clenched a hand together and almost seemed ready to batter in Enid's helmet with his fist alone.
"There will be no more fighting. Nobody else needs to die. All I ask in return is that you release her." Leofric raised his other hand to point at the radiant creature that hovered above the ground. Enid turned his head in turn to look and huffed out a misty, icy breath. He remained silent and in thought for some time, before turning his head back to Leofric, and then back to his own men. He called out an order and the mages standing at the front ceased their witchcraft to stand down. Only one of them remained, persisting and now struggling on his own - but without the support of the others it was hopeless for him to hold the Lady on his own. Her golden radiance shimmered brighter and white flames erupted around her. In almost the blink of an eye she broke free from the magical chains that had held her, and a minor shockwave ruptured into every direction. She then turned towards the two kings and descended, her shape manifesting into a more prominent female appearance. She approached the Northern King and circled a lap around him while brushing one of her hands along his armour - then she withdrew back and promptly disappeared; her radiance diminished and returned the scorched wasteland into darkness.

Leofric sheathed his sword and looked as Enid, still clutching his brutalized hand, scrambled up to his feet and stared at him in silence, although it was a mutual understanding.
"We're done for today. I will order my army to stand down but we will remain here until the week's end. I will have a tent set up at the foot of the hills in case you wish to have words." Leofric said and turned halfway, gesturing with a hand to the hills where his camp and fortifications had been raised. Enid tilted his head in a slow nod and the two kings then turned, making their way back to their respective armies.

The Realm of Men

Chapter 28: Her father's daughter

Josephine shuffled through the narrow street and its people with relative ease. From Sir John's suggestion she had put on a simple, hooded cloak to better blend in as a simple peasant girl to prevent any unwanted attention. She was following Sir John, who like her, had switched out to simple clothing; though the high-quality sword he carried by his side attracted more than a few inquiring looks. Behind the princess in turn followed a small contingent of marines, who had accompanied them from the ship. They too were wearing simple tunics and britches, with only one or two being armed with clubs in the unlikely event that someone would pick a fight with them.

Josephine and her party slithered around the streets of Cliffport for near half an hour until Sir John finally stopped infront of a building. The building, a large house of four floors, carried a distinctive official look about it - banners of the nation's colours were draping down on either side of the of the entrance, but their sigils were that of a golden anchor instead. The Admiralty's headquarters. Josephine wasted little time outside and barged past her protector and stepped inside.

*

The doors leading into the Lord-Admiral's office swung open and Josephine stormed in inside. The office had been re-purposed into a war-room of sorts, as several men in uniforms stood around a large, square table in the center of the room, with a myriad of maps and navigating tools spread out across it. They all looked up at what they could only first interpret as an angry little peasant girl that flew inside their decision-making.

"What is the meaning of--" a middle-aged officer with his hair loosely set up in a ponytail behind his head began, though he was promptly shut down as Sir John appeared and positioned himself next to Josephine, who then lowered her hood. "Lord-Admiral Spire, I need your ships."

The officer who went by the name of Spire, who had also been the first man to protest, widened his eyes and then humbly bowed before the little royalty - the other men around him immediately did the same. "Princess Josephine! Forgive us. When we heard about what happened at the capital we feared the worst. We didn't expect you to walk through those doors."

Josephine wafted a hand dismissively to shut the man up. "Your lack of decorum is forgiven, but I have preciously little time - as does my father. He is fighting outside Monarch's Rise this very moment. I saw your ships in dock, and I saw that they were preparing for war. You need to send them to the capital at once and help my father, your king, to retake the city."

Spire looked at Josephine with his mouth ajar as she bombarded him with words and commands. He then cleared his throat and dusted off his black and gold coat from invisible dust. "The ships you saw in harbour were destined for elsewhere by your father's command, but we'll gladly re-direct them to support the king in our hour of need. How do you propose we support your father's forces from the sea?"

Josephine barely gave Spire the time to finish his question before she was quick on her tongue again to flood the man with orders. "You have marines, do you not? As do Admiral Aversbury, whose fleet is in blockade around Monarch's Rise. Your ships will join up with his and together you will send your soldiers to a stony shore - Aversbury knows of it - which has a tunnel that leads into the royal keep. Your men, Lord-Admiral, could cause havoc and confusion amongst the invaders if you were to attack from within. It would give my father some much needed time."

The officers in the room looked between themselves but did not dare to speak up in protest, if they had any. Spire frowned somewhat but eventually nodded his head. "The chance of survival for the soldiers who enters the keep would be quite low, I imagine. Still, those men would gladly sacrifice their lives for their king and country if it meant turning the tide in this unprovoked invasion..."

Josephine tilted her head. "Good. As far we know, the invaders aren't even from this world. They appeared out of thin air and possess powerful magic. People will die, my father's and mine people, will die in this war. But without risk and sacrifice we won't win the day, and the consequences will be far more severe if we fail to break them in Monarch's Rise. But between your men and my father's army, I am confident we will triumph over the enemy."

The sailors in the room looked up the young princess with dumbfound expressions; never could they have imagined such viciousness and resolve from someone so young. At Josephine's side, Sir John smirked - he had undoubtedly seen the princess in action before, and always with the same results.

Lord-Admiral Spire glanced between his subordinates before nodding. "Of course, princess. We'll win the day."