Quest The Battle of The Blades: The Parade

[Owen Mason]

Elan glanced over at the throwing spear that had found its home in one of the training dummies up in the treeline. Whistled. Said, "I hope your aim is that good come the battle."

A shifting of gaze to the dummy Erën nodded at. A short laugh. "I should hope mine is as well. I've hardly used a bow before, if you can believe it." She elbowed him. "I suppose I've stolen a hint of your elven prowess by simply being in your proximity, eh?"

The groups of other Auxiliaries were trekking across the beach and back toward Ostia Anir and the tents of the temporary Anirian Guard garrison set up on its outskirts.

Elan took hold of her pavise and after a few good yanks wrested it free from the ground. "Rest would be good, yeah? Let's go get something to eat."

And she started walking.

* * * * *​

Owen and Lienhard sat in one of the Auxiliaries' mess tents. The Anirian Guard had their own. Same with the barracks tents. Seemed to suit everyone just fine, far as Owen could tell.

There weren't any tables. At least not in the Auxiliaries' mess. Just some long rugs spread on the ground and those who had their military rations sat generally cross-legged along it and placed their meals on top of it. In this way Owen sat next to his brother.

They'd been there a couple days now. Sounded like they were one of the last waves of recruits to arrive, matter of fact. Rumor was they might be boarding the ships soon. Owen and Lienhard had been issued their pavise shields and met the rest of Sergeant Damacline's Auxiliaries and trained with them. All seemed simple enough. Land on the beach. Hold the beach. Let the mages and archers do their thing. Wait for the Guard to arrive and close in.

Somebody was bound to get hurt in all that commotion. And hopefully Owen could do something about it.

"What do you think?" Lienhard said as he ate.

"'Bout what?" Owen said, taking a drink of water.

"'Bout this. All of this."

A single laugh caught in Owen's throat. "Not much to think about, is there? We just go in there and hope we come out alright."

"That's just luck. Whether you draw the short straw or not. But I'm sayin', how you figure the world. Vel Anir. Bein' out of Ared'luin. Things ain't the same out here. The people. I don't know. Somethin' about herdin' too many people together in these big cities really ends up tearin' people apart in the end."

"I don't know," Owen said. "Homeland Parade back there seemed festive enough. People were proud and together and all. Sure not everbody knows their neighbors but they got along just fine far as I could tell."

"Maybe. Huh, maybe that's the problem."

"The problem?"

"Yeah. Think about it, Owen. Ared'luin ain't never aimed to go start some quarrel with the next village over. We were all content with our lot. And, side thought, we ain't never had no bandit come from Ared'luin neither."

"You're sayin' things change when too many people get together?"

"That's what I'm sayin'. Maybe we weren't meant to or somethin', I don't know. Maybe gettin' too many people all in one spot wakes up somethin' bad in 'em. Then you get war. Beggars. Bandits. Thieves. Murderers. All the rest."

Owen ate from his rations. Considered it. "I don't think such a thing is in our blood. Well, not so much that we caint do better."

Lienhard made a fist and pressed it to Owen's shoulder and gave him a nudge. "And yet here you are."

"Here I am. I don't claim to know how we as a people got broke, but I aim to do my part in fixin' it."

Xyrdithas

 

[Faerlin]

Faerlin eyed the approaching man with an equal amount of curiosity and wariness. It wasn’t often that people came to her directly. When they did, there was usually a very good reason for it: the paladin was not someone to be bothered with nonsense. That reputation spread very quickly, even among the new group of recruits for this assault. Therefore, it stood to reason that whatever this communication was, it would be important. If not, well, she’d been looking for a way to let some of the rising tension out, and tearing a few stripes off (either verbally or physically) an idiot would do nicely.

As the man introduced himself, she saluted crisply, standing at attention. “Sergeant.” Her rank was variable, depending on the cohort she was placed in, but the protocol remained the same regardless.

She listened eagerly to Sergeant Keller’s words. Apparently, there was a gap that needed filling in the Auxiliaries. While normally the paladin would not stoop so low as to fight with mercenaries—unless, of course, she was ordered to, since she never questioned orders—this time was different. This battle was complicated enough, and the beach landing was important enough, that she didn’t hesitate to respond. “I’d be honored to serve Vel Anir as Line Sergeant for Braun Virak, Boat Three sergeant. Nykios guide your blade.” She saluted again, her mind already leaping ahead to her new responsibilities.

----

The paladin supposed she’d been temporarily reassigned to House Virak, given the name of the ship. However, her life had changed in more ways than one; instead of drilling with the Anirian Guard, she found herself in charge of her own group of non-Guardsmen. They were doing their best, but didn’t have the training of those from Vel Anir. It wasn’t their fault, but it was her job to make sure they were as perfect as possible.

After all, if their beachhead fell, the assault would be over before it began.

Despite her misgivings at leadership, this cause was too important—and her rage too fierce—to allow her to fail her people. And by that, she didn’t just mean Vel Anir. She also meant the mercenaries who’d been entrusted to her care: despite looking down on them (and despite the presence of non-humans in their midst), Faerlin knew she had to do right by them.

So, while she drove them as hard as possible, in seemingly endless drilling, she drove herself harder. She was always in full armor, despite the burden; she slammed her pavise shield into formation faster and more firmly more times than she could count; she even practiced with the enchanted hoop until she thought she might pass out from exhaustion. But it would be worth it all in the end, so long as they succeeded.

Still, as she watched her troops fire arrows into the practice dummies, Faerlin found herself frowning. Something was missing: there was no sense of danger, no sense of impending death. While she didn’t want to endanger her trainees, she wanted them to experience something a little closer to what they’d actually be dealing with on the day of the assault.

So she set off to make it happen.

------

While getting information out of others wasn’t her strong suit (more by choice and temperament than by incompetence), everyone at Ostia Anir was united in one purpose, so it wasn’t hard. It helped that the three houses who’d supplied troops were all allies, more now than ever before. What hurt was that Faerlin didn’t know exactly what she was looking for in terms of making the training sessions more realistic. Still, she asked, and listened, and finally found herself outside a tent. She’d been just about to enter when the woman the paladin had been looking for emerged.

Immediately Faerlin saluted. She was in the presence of Dreadlord Selene Avar, and Dreadlords were not someone even a paladin of Nykios wanted to get on the wrong side of. “Dreadlord Avar, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.” For once Faerlin’s voice was absent any trace of hostility. She really needed to get this right.

“I’m Paladin Faerlin Dercaiya, temporarily reassigned from House Weiroon to serve on Braun Virak, Boat Three. It occurred to me as we were training for the landing, dreadlord, that while we have been using training dummies, and representations of regular traps and defenses, there has been little mention of the magical defenses we might encounter. Would it be possible for you to give me a sense of what we might run into, and perhaps even tell me who could assist me in incorporating more magic into the training sessions? I would greatly appreciate it, dreadlord.” The paladin’s words were smooth, but Faerlin couldn’t help worrying about offending such a powerful woman.

While the paladin wasn’t worried so much about physical repercussions of bothering a dreadlord—powerful magic or not, Faerlin had her own tricks for dealing with mages—the real danger lay in the trouble Selene could make for Faerlin. Still, seeing as the paladin was asking on behalf of the dreadlord’s own house (well, kind of), it wouldn’t be too bad. The issue was that Faerlin was asking for something for the Auxiliaries, and she didn’t know how the Dreadlord would react to helping out mercenaries.

After all, the paladin’s feelings about them were hardly unique among the guard.

 

[Selene Avar]

It was a clever question, one that she would not have expected from most soldiers gathered on this beach.

The various House Guards often fought in rather simple ways. Anirian Soldiers were well trained of course, some of the best in the world, but their concerns most often lay in the physical realm. They worried about the blade coming over their heads, the axe slashing down, the pike stabbing forth.

The magic? That was often left to people like her.

There was initiative in asking questions. Selene could respect that, though many of her brethren would have told the Paladin to simply think within her own realm. Yet where they saw insubordination, Selene saw opportunity. "That is in part because we do not fully know the capability of our enemies."

Selene spoke calmly, her face a mask.

"It is doubtful there are more than a few true mages among them." The Dreadlord said with a frown. "Though that does not mean they are to be underestimated."

She mused for a moment. "I will assign one of my acolytes to train with your unit."

Yes, that would do.

"We will ensure you are prepared." She glanced at the Paladin.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën nodded with an affirming grunt and gave way to her elbowing with a grin.

If what she said was true then her skill was truly impressive for a novice, but his on the other hand was poor by the standards set by both his own people and – perhaps even Elan as well. While his arms were certainly steady enough it was his eyes that faltered in these times, and only these times. To train his gaze upon an object was of little challenge for him – but to do it down-sight strained him in a most peculiar way. His shots would be half-accurate, going in at least the right direction.

He levered his shield from the ground and took up stride along his companion. They wouldn’t have long to rest he was sure, so any break they could be afforded he would take with gratitude. So far, he enjoyed the Guard's program. Their exercises were well planned, and even when dealing with mercenaries and the like they maintained order. He and the other Auxiliaries were apparently provided less as far as accommodation in favor of the guardsman, but he had expected even less than they had given and despite not being human, he hadn’t received so much as a hardened glance since they'd arrived at the coast. At least not yet.

Even still, this wasn’t a pleasure cruise. And as far as any of them were concerned, he and the others on the front line were fodder. Nothing more. That suited him just fine. He was here for one purpose, and it wasn’t to appease the Anirian Guard in any capacity. In truth, his motivation was selfish at heart and just as they saw him as an instrument for their victory, he too saw them just the same. Save, so far, for one.

While they walked it occurred to him that though they had traveled together, Elan and he had shared very little with one another other than their distaste for the Master.

“So, you're not a member of the guard,” he questioned, turning his eyes to her with a raised brow, “given your enthusiasm during the parade I can only assume you're quite fond of Vel'Anir, why not become a Guard?”

 

[Owen Mason]

Elan thought for a moment as they walked. The sound of the surf. The ebb and flow of the Cortosi tide.

"Hmm, perhaps you're right, Erën," she said. "It's just never seriously crossed my mind before. I've only sisters, and my father isn't Vel Anirian born, so there wasn't a military tradition in my family. I suppose I became a freelance sellsword instead of a soldier because it felt more natural back then."

A tilting of her head back. A glancing from the corner of her eyes.

"Well, it'll be a first for both of us then, as a matter of fact. Fighting alongside the Anirian Guard. I'll see what comes of it, yeah? Give joining some consideration then."

* * * * *​

Days passed.

Owen and Lienhard were in their unit's tent. A veritable sea of them had been erected for the Auxiliaries and the Guardsmen on the outskirts of Ostia Anir. Tight and cramped inside, despite the tents being large enough to accommodate the twenty-man size of the Auxiliary units. Bedrolls were side-by-side, equipment and personal belongings at the heads of said bedrolls.

A variety of backgrounds among their unit, the mercenaries and freelancers and adventurers there. Men who had come from Elbion and Alliria and some smaller towns, two dwarves from Belgrath who for some unknown reason despised one another, a disgraced orcish shaman from Bhathairk, a widow from a destroyed town in the desert of Amol-Kalit, a College dropout with some scant magical ability, two red-haired women who looked to be sisters with their matching leather armors and similar features but who both assured everyone that they were not and had not even met before, a chronic drunkard of Vel Anir who had only recently sobered up and looked to make a name for himself now in the city he had immigrated to, even an older bearded wildman from the less civilized tribes of men who curiously spoke fluent Trade tongue.

They were Boat One of the Braun Virak.

And Line Sergeant Damacline opened up the flap of the tent that evening and peered in and regarded them all and said in a low voice that was at once apprehensive and tinged with a subdued readiness and excitement, "Get a good night's rest, Auxiliaries. We're sailing out tomorrow. We'll be there before you know it."

Then he left.

Owen looked to Lienhard. Lienhard looked to Owen.

"You ready?" Lienhard asked.

"As I'll ever be," Owen said.



(((Apologies for the wait)))