Private Tales Life and Death

[Methuselah]

Life was easiest in binary. Good and evil. Light and dark. Life and death.

Methuselah stood at the summit of a tall hill and observed the hamlet that lay tucked into the base of a deep valley. There were undoubtedly larger cities and larger problems out there, but today this was his problem. Normally, a small group of bandits wouldn't warrant the attention of two Knight Pursuant. Perhaps a knight and his squire, but the situation at Direwood could get dicey.

"Why do you suppose they call it Direwood?"

He kicked his horse lightly to get him walking again, as he'd tarried too long at his evaluation. The hamlet was in a good defensive position for larger raids, with an experienced leader at the helm. Perhaps at one point this had been a camp for some long forgotten military campaign. Whatever that purpose had been, it had been supplanted by the need for quality iron. There was an abundance in the foothills surrounding Direwood.

Fortune had struck when their mines had turned up gold. Unfortunately, sometimes the good brought the bad. This was one of those situations where it was easy to draw the line between the good and the bad. Some bandits had been making nightly raids on the gold, and the newfound wealth of Direwood was at stake.

"You don't think there's spiders, are there? Never been much fond of spiders."

The first night would probably be easy. Smack the bandits good when they're unaware of the Knights arrival and get them out of Direwood. They'd stick around for a few days, though. If this wasn't just thieves of opporitunity, and were actually an organized group of brigands, they could potentially muster forces in retaliation. If that were the case, they'd have a few days to fortify the city and potentially call in reinforcements from the Order.

No matter the situation that presented itself, he had the utmost faith in his fellow Knight. Solon Rye had always commanded a great deal of respect within the Order, and there was no doubt they'd be able to find success within Direwood. The road wasn't much farther, he hoped they had some good food within Direwood. He was beginning to get hungry.

 

[Solon Raye]

The Knights of Anathaeum were founded under the principle of protecting the world from the things that go bump in the night. Things that the common man would have no hope of combating. To do so would set him at war with all of the things that were out of his control, first and foremost. The teachings of the Syr Steppenwolf "The Foehammer" were passed down to every knight that sought to live by the sword. Every fight began in a knight's mind long before he even draws his blade. And so he must the fear of his opponent long before he sought to draw his opponent's blood. If one could conquer their own nightmares, then their sword would always strike true against those who meant them ill. It was strange how little texts and teachings Solon found about taking life from the most common monsters of all.

Mortals. Mortality made men wretched things...

They sat on their horses at the top of the tall hill overlooking the village and Solon leaned forward on Lynore for a moment. His maroon cloak was pulled up over his head and it covered most of his gilded armor, flowing down the side of Lynore's white hair. Somewhat tired brown eyes settled on the ever growing village of Direwood. Perhaps he had read something about it long ago, the meaning behind the name, but it didn't ring any bells in his head.

"I would hate to make something up. I'm not sure why it's named that way," the somber baritone of Solon Raye came shortly after Methuselah proposed his question. He, like his companion took in the sight before him. Direwood was a village that was well on it's way to becoming something more with it's recent fortune. How unfortunate was it that night was coming for them now? Was this not the way of things? The sun had to fall so that the darkness could creep in. Would souls appreciate the chill of the grave after the heat from the sun's life exhausted them?

"Can't quite say I'm sure about the amount of spiders present, Syr Methuselah... But I know we're expected. Perhaps you could inform the good Baron of your spider concerns"

Solon glanced at Methuselah, a teasing grin etched on his face that was half covered by the hood of his blood red cloak. Kicking at Lynore's sides, Solon led the way toward the meager gates of Direwood.

 

[Methuselah]

"Perhaps we should just keep a sharp eye." He teased as they came up to what passed for the gates of Direwood.

They palisades would be lucky to be called that, and the gates looked as though a stiff breeze might knock them over. There had been a lot of growth in the area, so defense probably hadn't been truly important until the recent issue arose. These hastily built walls wouldn't do much for protection, but they might be a good place to start. Upon their approach he heard some guardsmen shouting behind the wall.

A small man in a worn coat slipped through the gates upon their approach. He pulled up into some mockery of a regal stance as he declared, "Brave Syr Knights, we welcome you to Direwood."

"No red carpet?" He said with a smile, "There's no need for such formality, friend. I am Methuselah and this is Syr Solon. We were hoping to meet with the Baron, if you could take us to him."

There was a brief look of confusion, followed by a slight pang of embarrassment, perhaps? It seemed that the man he'd assumed was some kind of Herald, was in fact the Baron himself. Methuselah was generally good at this type of thing, but he'd occasionally missed the mark.

"Hope no further, then," The Baron recovered quite well, "I am Baron Shoemaker. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances. If you'll follow me."

With awkwardness aside, they made their way through the ramshackle gates of Direwood and into the town proper, and what a sight it was to behold.

 

[Solon Raye]

Solon wasn't sure why, but for as much as he often engaged in the diplomacy and niceties that came with dealing with nobility, he never quite got used to how that sort carried things. Certainly, he understood that a great many things in life required complex thinking. Understanding magic, for example, on the same level that the two Knights that rode into this small town understood it required a nuanced mind. Understanding how to use a blade better than the next man also came with the requirement that one understood that there was more to it than just swinging a blade and hoping for the best... But he always wished that people were a bit more simple because everything else was hard.

He liked to consider himself a simple man.

A good one that did all that he could to make the world a better place. There was no need to make things more difficult. Of course, such a conversation with the good Baron would be pointless. These were thoughts he kept to himself as Lynore carried him through the palisades and into Direwood. His brown eyes scanned their surroundings... The people there looked disheartened. Worry was thick on the air. He knew the feeling well. The feeling of not knowing when your next meal was coming was very similar to the feeling of an approaching doom. Death was on the horizon. Solon wondered if Methuselah felt the same, he was much more attuned to such.

"Your people seem frantic," Solon spoke aloud by accident. Might as well commit.

"These bandits... What is their number? When was their last assault?"​

 

[Methuselah]

When people thought of knights in shining armor, they thought of Syr Solon. It was a stark contrast to what Methuselah had to offer. The people watched from their porches, and they locked their doors when their eyes locked onto him. His armor, his hair and the horns all made for something that had deep connotations. He didn't want to deceive people into thinking that he was a good man. He fought for what he believed to be good, but not everyone would agree with his methods.

He wondered if they would be so desperate for his help once he allowed them to witness the true depths of his magic. There were few men that could stand steadily under the eyes of Koronis, though. There was little hope that these bandit would be strong enough to warrant such an extreme display of magic, though. Hopefully, he'd just have to knock some people around with more mundane means and this whole business would go back to square.

"Frantic? Downright scared, they are." The Baron had a habit of dry washing his hands when he spoke. He wondered if he too was uneasy at who had come to protect him. "We don't have an official count, but we believe there to be thirty or so men. It's so hard to tell, they only send a few at a time unless they're caught."

Methuselah nodded, and assumed that it was probably closer to twenty. Most people exaggerated numbers in their head whenever they got into combat, but it would be no use to argue the point with the Baron. He didn't seem to have the coolest head, so he wouldn't doubt if he had stretched the truth a bit. Twenty was a small number, so they might be battle trained, if they were successfully raiding a small town repeatedly.

They had arrived at a small town hall towards the center of Direwood. It was finely made for such a small city, and it looked as though there had been outside help. He doubted that very many people within this town knew finer craftsmanship. He wondered at how much gold they had actually found. He began to dismount his horse as a young man came up to take the lead from him.

"We will need detailed reports of their incursions. Names of people who saw them, reported numbers, where they struck and when. We'll also need to see anywhere that they arrived. It's going to be a long evening, Baron. I hope that you're well rested. If you'll give me a moment, I'd like to speak to my fellow knight for a moment."

The baron gave another unnecessary bow as he exclaimed, "I will have my scribe get to working on your request at once. Please follow me inside, we have room where you might talk more privately."

With a gesture, the baron hurried them through a welcoming hall and into a side room. It had a table in the middle with a pitcher of what appeared to be wine set aside for them. The knight poured himself a cup as he took a seat, only somewhat concerned that he would break the dainty legs. He pulled off his helm and set it down on the table. He gave Solon a raised eyebrow.

"Honest opinion, do you think that the baron is hiding something? Why request aid from the knights for a few bandits?"