Fable - Ask The Tide Turns[Historical]

[Leoric Virak]

"They didn't take us.

There weren't any Proctors. Boogeymen or recruiters. There wasn't any one coming for us.

It wasn't a punishment. It wasn't something to be feared.

It was a gift. We were a gift. Any son, any daughter born into magic was a wondrous thing. A blessing. Not because we were a prize to be sold for a satchel of riches.

But because were the one hope Vel Anir had.

The one thing that saved our city.

We weren't ripped from the arms of our mothers. We weren't torn from our families. We were given, freely offered, and had we known ourselves...every single one of us would have gone anyway."

Ealin - Formerly An-Tyr

"I...I don't und-"​

A wracking cough cut through the din of roaring fire. The acrid smell of burning wood hung within the air, the heat of the flames surrounding the two figures standing within an embrace. Blood spilled from the taller figures mouth, his features once serene and beautiful now twisted in a mash of horror and confusion. A blade, shining dark within the fire lit room pierced through his chest.

The other man held his shoulder, red hair cloaking their faces as blood dripped down the larger man's chest.

"We should have seen you."​

Words tumbled from dying lips, the concern within them almost desperate. The Elf simply did not understand, could not grasp what had happened to the great watch tower of Ealin. The fortress grown from the Oaks of the Orchard of Anirius. The mark of conquest, and the eye of the elves upon the upstart humans that had once sought their conquest.

What had once been a keep of great beauty now lay as a shattered ruin. Oak sung to steel stood sundered and broken. Palisades and walls ripped apart, towers torn down, and barracks obliterated. Hundreds lay done, some marred and broken, others left with no trace of ever having lived at all. The Fortress had fallen, not after a siege, not after a battle.

One night had passed, and Ealin had fallen.

"We should have seen you."​

The Elf said again, his body wracking as the shorter figure gently pushed him back. A loud thunk rang out within the inferno as the Elven Commander tumbled onto the floor. "Yes."

Leoric said, staring at the dead creature before him, his golden eyes flickering within the light as they turned out towards the open balcony just ahead. There, just barely, he could make out the cresting ridge-line. The sun light shone upon it, casting it's rays on those who stood there. Thousands upon thousands of men and women. Flags fluttering high above them upon great poles, dust rising into the air as they marched.

"You should have." The first of the Dreadlords said as he began to walk away, intent on rejoining the others.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

Ealin had been impossible to capture. Everyone in Vel Anir knew this. Just like everyone in Vel Anir knew that only the elves had mastered magic. That the dream of recapturing the Anirian heartland would never happen, that an excursion into the Falwood was doomed before it would even begin.

It turned out they'd been wrong about Ealin. And about magic.

"Easy enough," Clarissa said to the group of Guardsmen she'd been assigned to work in tandem with. Truthfully her first taste of slaughter amongst the elves had been eye opening. They put up more of a fight than the bandits and criminals that her training had pitted against her but ultimately they failed to put up much of a challenge. Whether it was beginner's luck or the element of surprise would remain a mystery until their next skirmish.

Claire stood perched atop the parapets looking down upon the carnage they had wrought. What had once been the elegant designs of elven ingenuity now was colored red. They'd had strict orders not to take prisoners and not to allow anyone to escape and spread word to the deeper parts of the Falwood.

Vel Anir had acted too hasty in the first war. It was a mistake they weren't going to make a second time.

"Ma'am, we got you to the apex of the tower for a reason," one of the Guardsmen said. He spoke truth and Claire took an extra second or two to wipe away the elvish blood that had splattered upon her cheek before focusing inwardly.

No one escapes. No one sounds the alarm.

Clarissa's eyes went glossy before a wave of indigo exploded outwards. The two arcane orbs flew high and wrapped their way around Ealin before sailing off and upwards, scoping the surroundings of the area. "Nothing," she said with an exhale before laying backwards on what essentially served as the roof to the entire fortress. "My eyesight should return in a few moments."

Egghead tutors back in the capital had a fanciful title for her magic but she preferred to simply call it, 'the indigo,' due to the hue it always bore. It was versatile, offering utility, destructive force, and defensive capabilities. But it always bore the same cost... the use of at least part of her body. And if she wanted to use her magic to gain a wider scope of the battlefield and ensure none of the elves had escaped, well, it meant several minutes of complete blindness.

"We'll meet up with the others as soon as I can see again."

 

[Rhea]

"Princess, are you... okay?"

Rhea shakily wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and filled her lugs with air. With a grimace she realised belatedly that that perhaps had not been the wisest decision, what with the smell of decaying bodies being what had caused her sudden fit of sickness. Or at least she told herself it was the smell. People would believe that of a Princess used to the smell of sweet roses and lavender. The wiser part of her knew it was the result of adrenaline leaving her and the emotions it left behind. Shock, horror, a feeling of great sadness and... cold emptiness.

Would all battles be like this?

Oh Rhea had trained, like everyone else here she had been pushed and honed by her own will and desire to serve her country. To free her people. Perhaps there was an added layer of that sense of duty for one day she would wear the crown and lead them. But being hit in a training arena versus actually seeing friends have their heads separated from their bodies, or feeling the hot entrails of an elf fall over your hand as your sword ended their life... they were things the training grounds could not recreate. Adrenaline had kept her going, had kept her strong, but now she felt it leaving her her body could only shake.

"I'm fine," she lied to her loyal guardsman and made herself meet his eyes and offer a weak smile. He didn't look convinced but then he wouldn't. He'd known her since the cradle. Deciding not to insult him by lying further she patted his shoulder and slid past him and the columns she had hidden behind to make her way back to the camp.

The sounds of soldiers screaming as healers and medics desperately tried to help them threatened to undo her bowels again but she swallowed and lifted her chin as she walked through the camp. Her armour, glittering like stained glass, was a statement and a sign of hope. People touched her hand and whispered their well wishes for her father and her as she passed them.

"Your highness should rest, you expended a lot of energy on the field..." Gallad caught up soon enough and slowed to walk beside her, casting glances at the injured as if he might have to finish the job.

"That would be weakness, Gallad. These people need to see me, see all the Dreadlords and that we still stand. They need to know we can survive this war."

Because if they didn't, what chance did they stand against the Elves?

 

[Leoric Virak]

By the time Leoric stepped down from the tower the Army was already marching past the fortress of Ealin. A dozen of his companions were already standing before the gate, watching as squires prepared horses and officers gave short briefings.

Guardsmen in bright shiny uniforms marched forward.

Most of them kept their faces forward, eyes set to ensure a steady rhythm within their march. They moved in lock-step, like automatons. Yet among their regiment he saw them, those that couldn't help but look. A few of them stared, but most took just a single second to turn their head.

"Leoric, find anything interesting up there?"​

A voice echoed out behind him, familiar. Olem Silt, a peasant's son, but a friend. Leoric didn't look back towards the voice, instead he simply continued to stare at the marching soldiers. "Not unless you can read Elvish."

Leoric said as raised up the unfurled scroll he had been holding.

"But then you can barely read common." A smile flickered on his lips. "We got new orders?"

"General is on his way now."​

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

“Ma’am?”

A voice from below jolted her back to consciousness. The preceding battle, the temporary loss of her sight, had exhausted her and she’d slipped into a few perfect moments of slumber.

Until the Guard decided to awaken her…

”Yes?” Her voice was groggy and strained.

The Guardsman showed no sign of concern or surprise, he merely relayed whatever had been so important to snap Clarissa out of her slumber. “Your brother, uh, I’m sorry, General Vansire is here.”

Frederick had arrived already? Interesting. ”My sight has returned, let’s rendezvous with my brother.” With that simple statement she descended from her perch and began walking towards the steps down the towering fortress of Ealin.

Whilst she was being trained to wield her magical talents he’d been off at a traditional military academy. Not just any military academy though, he’d been studying at Velkath Pirian Academy, the most prestigious military academy in Vel Anir. Many legendary officers of the Guard came from there and Frederick Vansire had proven himself to have a once-in-a-generation tactical mind.

Yet her older brother still had to be reminded by her to comb his hair before addressing the troops or eat something before he’d keel over.

A smile touched her lips as the thought of seeing him warmed her bones. After such a grizzly affair it’d do her good to get at least a few moments of joy. That smile faded as she came face-to-face with her retinue of Guardsmen. ”Any news?”

“None yet, assume General Vansire will want to fill us all in at once.”

 

[Rhea]

Rhea was not the first Dreadlord to arrive for the briefing but she was not the last either, she realised with a relieved sigh. Here, among the Dreadlords, rank or what you were before training did not matter. They looked at her as equals with smiles and nods to see she had come through unscathed too. Each one who returned as such was a bolster to confidence; they could actually win this. The plan would work. Once everyone was there and those who weren't were accounted for, Rhea was pleasantly surprised to find only one Dreadlord had died during the fighting and that had been from a lucky bowman's strike through the eye. Not a lot could have saved him from a one in a million shot.

Among the crowd Rhea caught the eyes of Leoric; one of the few she had known since Before. Not that they knew each other very well but being a Noble of an important House, she had seen him at a ball or two, suffered a dance for protocol's sake. She offered a tilt of the head and a slight smile; if only their mothers could see them now covered in sweat and blood. She thought both might faint. Perhaps it was a good thing her own Lady Mother was dead, she most certainly couldn't have dealt with her daughter casting off silks in favour of steel.

"Attention, every please," the General's voice drew her away from her idle musing and she turned her attention instead to the man stood on a tipped over wooden crate.

 

[Leoric Virak]

A small crowd had gathered, all faces that he recognized of course.

They were Dreadlords all. Each of them had trained alongside Leoric for the last decade and a half. Some were older, others younger, it did not really matter. He knew the measure of each of them, the strength they had in battle, the power they could wield after.

To him each of them was like a brother or sister, though he spotted one who pulled his interest. Just before the general arrived Leoric slipped away from Olem and stepped up just behind Clarissa. Rhea stood just a few feet away, though he only returned her nod in greeting. "Psst."

He whispered in Clarissa's ear.

"Any idea where we're going next?" Never once had Leoric held an ounce of patience. Always he had pushed.

More information, more missions, just more. He wanted to know, he wanted to achieve, he wanted to keep going. His drive was insatiable, a fact well known to all of them. Leoric was always the first one to the training field and the last one off it.

He knew who Clarissa's brother was of course, and likely knew that she wouldn't have a clue more than he did.

It was worth asking though, at least to his mind.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

Gathering together like this was the closest she ever got to family reunions. Aside from Frederick she'd had no other family. Sure, her parents were still alive so far as she knew, but she had made a habit of not speaking with them ever since House Urahil had helped her get to the Dreadlord Academy. Now these warriors were her family.

It didn't matter that Rhea was the heir to the throne. It didn't matter that Leoric's family had more gold than they could spend.

They were all prepared to die for one another.

Still, seeing her elder brother perched atop a stack of rubble filled her chest with warmth. While the rest of the Dreadlords were her kin, in their own way at least, her dear brother was something else. Someone who not only shared a name but a childhood with her. The only person from before the academy she still wished to speak with.

"Yes, you didn't hear?" She whispered back to Leoric in as serious of a tone as she could muster, "we're going to Oban. Going to eat Obanese pâté de croûte and then sail around to the coast of the Falwood. Knife ears will never see it coming." A large grin hinted to her sarcasm, just incase the Virak noble couldn't pick up on it.

Her brother, the General, finally spoke up and the crowd of Guardsmen and Dreadlords fell silent at the utterance of his first syllable. "Attention, everyone please," to her shock her brother and heir to the seat of the shamed House Vansire held up a lavishly decorated goblet, "today we've done the impossible. We've taken back An-Tyr."

An-Tyr, the former name of Ealin before the elves took the tower.

"We did it with minimal losses! We did it without allowing the elves to get a messenger deeper into the Falwood. We have a long road before us, a road that leads us deeper into the elven territory. A road that may only present victory if we have the gall to seize it! But," he took a sip from the goblet and a wide crow's smile formed upon his lips, "tonight we have seized An-Tyr. And that's worth celebrating. By polishing off every cask of elven wine they had stored in the cellar!"

Cheers rang out amongst the crowd and only after they settled down did Frederick continue speaking.

"Don't go overboard though friends, at dawn we head into the forest." It was smart, at least so far as Clarissa could tell. Let the tired and weary have a night of reprieve and merriment after their first long-fought battle. Then back to work first thing in the morning.

Clarissa joined in on the cheers before she spoke up loud enough for both Leoric and Rhea to hear, "alright, so I may have been wrong on one or two details. Though if you squint Anirian rations look a bit like pâté de croûte."

 

[Rhea]

Dreadlords rushed past her towards the citadel - or what remained of it - to go and raid the cellars for wines and no doubt better food too. Her face betrayed her concern for a small frown drew her brows together as she watched them go, her arms folded over her chest.

"They'll be fine," Rhea gave a start at the sound of the General's voice at her shoulder and she turned to glance up at him. His eyes too were on the retreating backs. A few had now branched off from those heading to the citadel and were spreading the word amongst the rest of the army. Watching the excitement spread was like watching a wildfire. "They know moderation," he continued, though this time with less certainty to his tone and he didn't spare her a second glance as he strode off after them no doubt to watch for any trouble.

Rhea shook her head slowly.

"Squinting might distort the truth but the smell? Nothing can disguise the smell of Cooks gruel," she grimaced.

 

[Leoric Virak]

"Ah damn, that Oban plan would have been a good one." It would, of course, not have been, but the idea of sitting on a ship for a few weeks didn't seem like the worst thing in the world.

Swim in the morning, a few exercises on deck.

He supposed it would have eventually gotten boring, but then there would be other entertainments around to take advantage of. A brief smile flickered over towards Rhea, though he didn't say anything and simply turned after the rush of Dreadlords.

"Don't need to squint." Leoric called out to the both of them. "Just need to know where to find the correct...additions."

With a wave he motioned the two of them over towards a largely untouched corner of the small Elven Fortress.

There, tucked against a part of the wall which had not been damaged was a storehouse. Not the type of place where one might tuck fine wines, but just the place for foods of all sorts. The food was always the last thing anyone cared about, Colonel Ulren had taught him that.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

Claire looked on as her brother gave a curt nod and a smile towards her before rushing after the mob of guardsmen who had already begun to plunder the expensive wine cellars within the military fortress.

It would've been nice to catch up with him, reminisce about the old days, find out if he remembered to eat anything in the past twenty-four hours. But that was simply her selfish side coming out. Frederick always found himself singularly focused and there was no doubt he was etching up stratagems in his mind for how to handle the assault into the Falwood. While also attending to the men and women who were now at risk of over indulging in wine.

"No promises, I may still squint."

Clarissa followed Leoric's lead towards the storehouse. If given the choice she was far more interested in a pleasant meal over the haze of alcohol. It still felt like she needed time to process the events of the day. War was...

Well, it wasn't what she had anticipated. "Today was hard."

It was a simple statement of fact. She nearly regretted the words as they left her lips though. She was in the presence of a member of House Anireth and House Virak. For someone from a minor noble house, one that had lost most of its wealth too, such an admission wasn't acceptable.

 

[Rhea]

"It was."

There was no patronising tone to Rhea's words, there was nothing at all except a bone-deep exhaustion. Training was one thing but using her magic in an actual battle was another. Perhaps training had been too lenient. Perhaps they needed to be tougher on the next round of recruits lest they feel this way too. Despite how tired she sounded and her status there was no hesitation for the Princess as she entered the stores to help rummage through what goods could be garnered from inside.

"I thought my guardsman was going to have to carry me off the field afterwards," she laughed softly and glanced towards the door. Gallad respected her need for private moments but she knew he was not too far away, his duty to his king and his promise to keep her safe outweighed any orders that came from her own lips. It meant she was well within her rights to prod fun at him. Turning her attention back to the hampers she opened one at random and groaned in delight.

"Oh I haven't seen cheese this good in... Well, years."

 

[Leoric Virak]

Leoric nodded along with the sentiment his friends presented.

It had been a hard day. The fighting had only lasted an hour, perhaps less than that, but the sheer brutality would have made most veterans uncomfortable. Dreadlords were a new thing, and their capabilities something that no one quite knew what to do with.

Today was as much an experiment as it had been a first strike, and none of them had any illusions about that. Half the reason they were getting the night off was probably so the command staff could plan to use their new weapons properly now that they had seen what could really be done with them.

Not that it made any difference.

Leoric was resolved, and he knew the others were as well. ”Made with Elven Magic I’m sure.”

The son of House VIrak commented as he pulled out a small box, dragging it’s lid free to reveal a bushel of what appeared to be grapes. For a few seconds he stared at them, frowning, and then slowly he placed the box back on the shelf.

He stood there for a few moments, and then turned to the other two.

”But it's only the first day.” Leoric said quietly, sitting himself down on a small crate just besides where he had been standing.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

"I think my Guardsmen would've fought over who got to carry me," Clarissa offered to Rhea with a grin. It wasn't true, of course, she didn't get the same privileges that the heiress to the Anirian throne did but making her friend and comrade feel more comfortable was important.

The noble born members of the Dreadlord's ranks had always treated her with the same courtesy so if she got the chance to repay it, even once, she was going to take it.

She moved towards the cheese and nabbed a small sliver between two of her fingers, smelling it first, before putting it into her mouth and savoring the smokey, somewhat funky, flavor. Noble's food was still something her palette was growing accustomed to but she'd be lying if it wasn't the best cheese she'd ever had.

With a gulp of the chewed remains of her cheese Clarissa looked around the rest of the storeroom. Collecting cured meats and the grapes that Leoric had discarded. "This is a way better idea than raiding the wine cellar," she said as she began to set up their food discoveries atop a blanket and a turned over shield that served as a makeshift table.

After the man from Virak's quiet statement she simply let the words hang. Making brief eye contact with her fellow Dreadlords. "What are we getting ourselves into?"

Clarissa had faith in her country. She had faith in her brother. But they'd all grown up to hear stories about the first war. The deaths, the famines, and the throngs of humans packed into Vel Anir praying the elves would give up and go away.

"This time has to be different." Claire shoved a slice of salami into her mouth as soon as she stated what she intended to be a fact. They wouldn't fail.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea raised a single brow at Leo's comment. Would elves waste their magic on something so trivial as cheese? She knew there were plenty of guardsmen outside who would take his comments as gospel and not touch it out of fear it might turn them into a newt. but she had no such fears and took a small chunk for herself after offering it to Clarissa. The moment it touched her lips she realised just how hungry she was, the draw of magic having depleted her far more than she had realised. Setting the cheese down she began to rummage for other items.

"It will be different," Rhea said confidently. It was her fathers plan after all and whilst titles did not matter here, she was still looked to as the representation of the crown and the future of Vel Anir. "We're on an equal footing now, before the elves were killing lambs," as valiantly as they had fought there had not been much hope when the odds had been tipped so heavily to one side.

"If he lose this time, at least we will have met as equals."

 

[Leoric Virak]

“It will be different time this.”​

They were words that all Anirians had heard again and again over the last few years. A statement made by the King and those that supported him. A promise that the war would not end in the shattering of their nation. A solemn and sworn oath that the Elves would pay for what they had done.

Leoric believed it. Knew it.

Rhea was right. This time they were equals. This time the Dreadlords would be there. This time he and all of them would be there. ”We won’t lose.”

The son of House Virak said, his voice a cold confidence.

”No matter what we have to do.” For a brief second something cold flashed over Leoric’s face, something dark. It lingered for a moment, and then just as quickly as it had come it was gone once again.

”But.” He said with a wave of his hand. ”Doesn’t matter much tonight, does it? We’re celebrating. We got food, a few treats…”

Leoric smirked. ”Now lets use it to buy ourselves some booze.”

Trading, after all, was a soldiers real skill.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

Clarissa nodded. They were both correct, things were different this time. Dwelling on it wouldn't change a thing, it was best to celebrate the little victories and move forward one day at a time.

"No arguments here," she said with a smile.

It had been a long day and while Claire wasn't much of a drinker she was willing to make an exception for tonight. In one arm she scooped up some of the cured, seasoned, meats while grabbing hold of the various cheeses in her other arm.

"Hopefully the drink is half as good as the food stores were."

She marched along with her Dreadlord companions back towards the mass of humanity gathering around the wine cellars. She'd leave the choosing of alcohol to Rhea and Leoric, they were of noble birth afterall and far more keen on what constituted 'quality' than she was.

 

[Rhea]

When they left Rhea had made up a box of a few of the different things she had managed to find in the storehouse; cheeses, fresh fruit, generous cuts of meat. They would need to prove they had what they said they had in order to sell it and Rhea didn't particularly fancy her chances coming back to find most of it still in tact once the hoards descended on it. It would be stripped clean just like the wine cellar.

"My father had a couple of bottles of elven wine, he opened one bottle on my 18th name day. To celebrate," her lips twisted at the memory. "The only wine I've ever tasted that's better is that of Oban," and really the two were so different due to the climates it was unfair to compare them.

The camp were in merry spirits by the time they got to the bottom. Someone had found a wagon and had hurled the goods up to the campfires. Men were practically throwing bottles into the outstretched arms of soldiers making Rhea wince. Each bottle would no doubt cost several golden crowns if they took them back to Vel Anir.

 

[Leoric Virak]

As Leoric and his fair companions made their way back towards the Camp, his eyes followed some of the bottles which soared through the air.

His gaze narrowed at some of them, reading the labels which could barely be made out. He took a slow breath, lips thinning for just a brief moment as a single black fleck floated over his eyes. Then suddenly one of the bottles snapped out of the air and dragged its way into Leoric's palm.

It was as though the glass had a mind of it's own, slapping into place as the Dreadlord curled his fingers around it. "Thatll be a good start. Not my favorite, but Bourbo-"

"Hey!"​

A voice called out, one of the Guardsmen just to the left of them.

"That's mi-"​

When he saw who he had just yelled at the boys eyes went wide. No fear touched his eyes as it would have hundreds of years from now, but instead a mixture of awe and admiration colored his features. "You snooze you lose, son."

Leoric said with a smirk, though the boy couldn't have been much younger than he was.

"Ye-yes sir, errr, My Lord? Dreadlord."​

A smile touched the Virak's lips, a small pop echoing out as he removed the cork from the bottle of bourbon. With a smirk, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long draught.

"Benefits of seniority." He bragged to the two girls.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

They'd been lucky, didn't even need to enter any trades and Leoric had already secured a bottle of bourbon. Of course, he snagged it from a Guardsman who was just about to go for the same bottle. Clarissa made a gesture towards the Virak offspring as if she was wanting a taste of the bourbon.

Once he passed it she scooped three small glasses off the shelf and poured the caramel colored liquor into each of them. She took the first glass and passed it to the Guardsman. "Here."

He took the glass but simply stared at the three Dreadlords before collecting himself.

"T-thank you, ma'am, it's truly not needed though."​

Clarissa nodded before handing the second glass to Rhea and then clutching the third in her own hand. "Figured you didn't need a glass," she offered the bottle back to Leoric with a grin. There wasn't much else left to say to the Guard but it was important, at least for her, that he feel like they weren't above them. They were all here for the same purpose. To liberate Vel Anir's lost territory and maybe get some payback for the years of famine the elves caused them.

A curious nose sniffed the top of her glass before Claire took a swig of the bourbon. It was a bit sweet, a difficult taste to adjust to but not bad... that was until she swallowed and her throat stung from the alcohol burn. "Egh, it burns."

She quickly brought a piece of the dried meat up to her mouth and chewed on it to dull the sensation.

 

[Rhea]

The look Rhea gave Leoric was a look every man came to know, whether it be from irked mothers or wrathful wives. Or, in this case, a very displeased Princess. Dreadlords were never meant to be above the ordinary soldier. They were just another limb, just another part, of the great Army of Vel Anir. Treating fellow soldiers in such a way was just asking for that idea to disintegrate. She was just about to open her mouth and break her own rule in a hypocritical manner by pulling seniority when Clarissa beat her to it with a simple, smoothing gesture.

Rhea felt a smile light her whole face.

"There's some good food up at the store too, meats and cheeses, fresh fruit and bread. You and your friends should go help yourselves," the boys face which had been locked in a state of shock transformed into a grin.

"Y-yes Ma'am! I mean... Your Highness... I mean.... Y-yes Dreadlord. Thank you!" He nearly tripped over his own feet on his way to tell his friends and Rhea shook her head in mild amusement.

"I prefer port myself, or mead," Rhea confessed after watching Clarissa swallow the bourbon with a sympathetic grimace. She set the box of food down then turned to rummage in the wagon herself. It wasn't long before she returned with a bottle of the latter stuff.

 

[Leoric Virak]

Leoric rolled his eyes ever so slightly at the two women.

It wasn’t like he’d stolen the man’s boots, just a bit of booze. They had done the majority of the killing today, that leant them just the little bit of leeway. At least in his mind. They were equals, but some were a little bit more equal than others. It hadn’t been the Guard that had taken his fortress, after all. ”Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The Dreadlord commented as he sat himself down on a nearby box.

”But I guess Princesses can be…” He added jovially as he watched Rhea rummage through the wagon behind her. ”Whatever they want.”

A privilege that in truth wouldn’t have escaped him either.

Just as Leoric brought the bottle up to his lips, another of their company came through the crowd. Gideon Urr stepped out from a clutch of Guardsmen, his black fur cloak shifting on his shoulders as he made his to the other Noble Dreadlords. The massive black sword he carried on his back nearly dragging in the mud.

“Ah, I see the battle has taken it’s toll on my fellow Aristocrats.”​

Leroci glanced over towards the hulk of a man. ”Aye, it has. Relaxation was ordered by the General himself. You’d know that if you had been here.”

The son of House Urr rolled his eyes, reaching over his shoulders to grab the massive Zweihander splayed across his back. He shifted the weapon into his lap as he found a box besides Leoric. Glancing over at Clarissa and offering her a long lingering smile before finally offering his explanation.

“The General posted us on the ridge to the east, watching for escapees. Didn’t find any though.”​

Gideon said as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon from Leoric.

 

[Clarissa Vansire]

Clarissa tried some of the mead that Rhea brought back and found it a lot simpler to digest than the liquor Leoric had chosen. She'd debated saying so, or at least combating Leoric's snide comment, but instead the trio found themselves interrupted.

Gideon.

Clarissa didn't particularly like Gideon. He was rude, loud, and had a tendency to lump her in with the other members of the Anirian nobility. Technically it was true, she was of noble birth, but her family had been impoverished long ago. Her upbringing was likely a lot closer to that of anyone else in the guard rather than Leoric or Rhea's.

And even those two and spent much of their adolescent years with her at the academy.

"Gideon." She said with a nod, "Sounds like we made your job very simple."

She took another sip of the sweet tasting mead as the words escaped her lungs. Gods, she did not like Gideon.

 

[Rhea]

Once Rhea had finished a proper scout of the good alcohol she returned to the small little group. She'd sent a steady stream of soldiers up towards the storehouse so they too might find something to eat and she felt content that by the end of the night everyone would have a full belly, and by the morning a sore head. That was the way of things on campaign, or so her father had always told her. He was too old, now, to join them on the field but he had regaled her with enough stories she could hear him every step of the way.

She tried not to let her smile falter too much when she realised who had joined their little group.

Taking a breath to steel herself she wandered back over and took a seat, setting down two further bottles; one a deep red and the other clear.

 

[Leoric Virak]

"Aye, that you did."

Gideon said as he made himself rather cozy upon the small crate, a small smile touching his lips as he once again pilfered the bottle from Leoric's hands. "Well, next time you can lead the charge."

He said with a shrug of his shoulders, slowly taking in a breath as he nodded towards Rhea when she returned.

"I'll do whatever the Good General asks of me, I am after all but a simple soldier."

Leoric scoffed, then snatched the bottle back from Gideon's hand. Eyes rolled as he brought the liquor to his lips, taking another long sip. For a moment he let the quiet linger, and then he slowly looked towards the others.

"So what do we think?" He asked. "Je'aiel? Fel'Innes?"

Leoric mused. "What will be next?"

Though they were weapons of war, each of them had received dozens of hours of tutelage in strategy and war. They knew maps and strategy better than most officers, though none had been blessed with knowledge of the Campaign to come.