Iron Blooded

The sun was high in the sky by the time I crossed the camp.

Lord Blackthorne’s men had become accustomed to my presence and many greeted me with nods and salutes as I passed. The guard in front of the war tent stepped swiftly aside as I approached, folding back the canvas and allowing me to duck in.

The interior of the war tent was much the same as I remembered. Desks and shelves covered with books and scrolls sat in the corners, and a large bear rug sprawled across the ground. I glanced at it, reminded of the cursed bear I had fought in the caves all that time ago. This bear wasn’t nearly that size, but there was no doubt in my mind that it would have stood taller than most bears from Earth.

At the far end of the tent was a long table, at which at least a dozen people were seated. I recognized Ser Connel, Lord Dacon, and several other knights under their employ. Then my eyes snagged on the Northern Knights and it was all I could do to keep from narrowing them.

“Ah,” said Lord Blackthorne, seemingly oblivious to the hostility that flowed between us. “Here he is. Ser William, this is Knight Captain Ulfric. He works in service to the Duke of the North. Knight Captain, this is-“

“Forgive me, my Lord,” said the Knight Captain coldly, rising to stand in a jingle of mail. “But I was under the impression that this council was for ordained Knights only. There is sensitive information contained in the letters of the Duke, and my explicit orders were to ensure some level of discretion.”

Lord Blackthorne frowned but before he could respond Lord Dacon turned his gaze on the Knight Captain.

“Ser William was Knighted by a Lord of the realm, and as such he is endorsed by my house. What right do you have to challenge him, Ser?”

I resisted the urge to smile instead schooling my face to cool impassivity as I approached. Ser Connel gestured to the seat beside him and I took it gratefully. Ulfric and his two companions watched me with barely disguised disdain.

“Truly I mean no respect to your noble house my Lord,” he said, his rich accent filling the room. “It is only that the rest of the Kingdom.. view things differently. Knighthood is a sacred order, one appointed by his Radiance the God King himself. To serve within that order is the highest of honors and not bestowed lightly. Certainly, this William must have performed great deeds to be honored with a temporary knightship. However,” he made an apologetic gesture that seemed almost mocking.

“This appointment would not stand in any other kingdom or province court. Without official process and ordination, William of Blackbriar is not recognized as a Knight.”

“A technicality that holds no real value. I can assure you, Knight Captain, that my authority supersedes your own. It is well within the power of myself and my house to appoint him and so I have done.”

“Perhaps within your Lord father’s authority yes,” said Ulfric, a little too casually. He smiled like a man scolding a child, which only seemed to anger the young lord further. “But not within your own I’m afraid. As I stated before my Lord the power to ordain a Knight lies with the Order itself, and the heads of house.”

Dacon pressed his gauntleted fingers to the table, leaning forward with fire in his eyes. Before he could answer Lord Blackthorne held up a hand.

“Peace, Dacon.” He said, his tone weary.

“The Knight Captain is technically correct, though I would remind him that his customs in the north do not extend to every province. Ser William is, under my authority and the house of Basset, at least a hedge Knight in our employ. If you doubt his credentials you have but to look at his service record. The man’s honor is without reproach and his deeds even less so.”

“Here Here,” said Dacon moodily, swiping a goblet from the table and gulping the contents. Watching him I had the sneaking suspicion the young Lord was drunk.

Ulfric bowed his head, but I saw the shadow of dissatisfaction flicker across his face.

“As you say, Lord.” He said stiffly. Blackthorne nodded and turned his attention back to the table in front of him. In the center was a map larger than I’d ever seen before. All of Kadia was outlined in red ink, and to either side of it were several other labeled kingdoms and an island with a coat of arms I didn’t recognize.

“Now then,” Blackthorne clasped his hands in front of him and regarded the Northern Knight with the patient look of a father.

“What urgent news from the Duke would have him sending one of his most loyal men this far south?”

Ulfric glanced at me again but seemed to realize he was out of options. Grudgingly he reached into his tunic and pulled out a rolled missive. As he passed it to Lord Blackthorne, I saw the same Rams head seal I’d seen before.

“The Duke might have come himself to see his old friend,” said Ulfric. “But he is… indisposed. It seems all the healers in the North are useless in determining the cause of the illness. His Grace’s health is waning and he turns to his allies in a time of need.”

Lord Blackthorne’s face was grave as he accepted the note and pried off the seal with a knife. The war tent fell silent as he read. Lord Blackthorne’s eyebrows drew together as he scanned the missive. Wordlessly he passed the letter to Lord Dacon.

“This is indeed troubling news,” he said as the young Lord scanned the words.

“It would appear the southern front wasn’t the only territory to suffer increased monster activity. The frost trolls and the giants of the north have never lived in harmony with humans, but I’ve not known them to attack strongholds before.”

The Knight Captain grimaced.

“Neither have I, my Lord. Though the north offers no shortage of dangers, the hostility of local creatures and monsters has risen drastically. We’ve done what we can – erecting walls around stead-holds, increasing the number of armed men under the banner of loyal thanes. The Duke himself has even seen to opening his own coffers to aid in the building and repairing of old outposts long forgotten from the old wars. Still, our position is precarious at best.”

“Yes,” said Blackthorne. “And the Duke fears a succession war between his children. The timing of such a conflict would devastate the realm, no doubt. Troubling indeed.”

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Ulfric stiffened, and I noted his companions had similar reactions, though the woman was better at hiding hers. The young male Knight actually let out a sound of disdain that earned him a glare from the Knight Captain.

“Kel Westfall is the one true heir to the throne of the north,” said Ulfric stiffly. “Of that, there can be no doubt.”

“And yet there is.” Lord Blackthorne leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. From beneath his linen shirt, I saw the edge of a nasty scar – as testament of what he had endured in Ceris.

“Knight Captain I understand your position, and your loyalty to your lord is admirable. But the Duke has not claimed an official heir. As to why he would do this I cannot be sure. But if he had intended his eldest son to rule, he would have mandated it.”

“Surely you can’t be serious!” the outburst came from the young Northern Knight to the right of Ulfric. All eyes in the war tent landed on him. The Knight seemed to realize to whom he was speaking because he quickly lowered his eyes.

“I mean no offense my Lord,” he said. “But the law of succession is clear. Lord Westfall is the eldest son, and he will be named Duke in the untimely event of his father's passing. The North is a land of traditions.”

Blackthorne barked a laugh.

“Traditions is it?” he asked, amused. “Your own sitting Duke fought a war of succession amongst his siblings. I would know, I was there. And his message to me is clear. He wishes to subvert the same fate and who could blame him? Kadia must stand in unity. If another Herald were to arise..”

He trailed off as Dacon tossed the letter unto the table.

“And what news of my father?” he asked, glaring around at the Northern Knight. “He departed not a month ago to aid the call of the Duke. Yet I see no news of him mentioned.”

Knight Captain Ulfric’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“The Count?” he asked, perplexed. “Forgive me Lord but I have heard no news of him. Perhaps in our travels, we passed his company and were unaware.”

“No…” Blackthorne was stroking his short beard in thought. “My own messengers have not reported word from him in weeks. It is unusual, to say the least, but I’d rather not jump to conclusions.”

Lord Dacon’s jaw worked.

“Surely nothing could have befallen him. He had two whole companies of men and some of Castle Basset's finest Knights. Perhaps he is distracted by this political storm brewing in the north.”

“Perhaps.” Lord Blackthorne looked dubious but seemed not to want to press the issue.

“I will gather my men and leave at once,” Lord Dacon made to stand but Blackthorne held out a hand. “Wait, Dacon. I understand your haste but you must understand our situation. I agree that the army must move north if we are to protect the interests of the land. At the same time, leaving the city undefended as it is rebuilt would be to leave its people vulnerable to attack. Ceasefire or not, we can’t be certain a threat won’t return. That responsibility would lie with you.”

Dacon hunched his shoulders, jaw working as he processed this information.

“My Lord, respectfully my place is with my Lord father.”

“Your place,” said Blackthorne, his eyes hardening. “Is with your people. You are the heir to Castle Basset. And when your father has passed, and I pray that it is no time soon, you will carry the mantle and responsibility of his title. Abandon your people now and you send a message. Tell me, what kind of man do you want to be?”

Lord Dacon turned his face away, glaring off into space. After a long moment, he let out a breath and nodded.

“Very well,” he said. Then he turned his eyes on Ulfric. “But just know that if any harm has befallen my father there will be retribution.”

With that, he rose, armor clattering as his Knights rose around him. He swept out of the tent, only stopping to give me a nod, which I returned. I watched him disappear through the tent flap.

“How youth breeds arrogance,” sneered Ulfric as he watched the count’s son depart. I dropped a hand to my sword.

“Careful Ser Ulfric,” I said. “Mind how you speak about a Lord.”

Ser Connel grunted his approval from beside me.

“Yes, Knight Captain. Do hold your tongue.”

The young knight beside Ulfric smirked as he eyed me.

“You let this commoner speak to his betters this way my Lord? Forgive me, but what of the rules of decorum? In the North, his tongue would have been cut from his head.”

“This is the south,” said Blackthorne calmly. “And if you insult my man again I will have you dragged from this tent and whipped like a dog.”

The threat hung in the air and, unable to resist, I gave a smirk of my own. The young Knight’s face twisted in anger but before he could retort Ulfric slapped a hand to his chest.

“Forgive my Squire,” he said, waving a hand. “He is merely passionate. We are simply unaccustomed to the laws of the southerlands and its… informalities. Ser Brandon himself has spent seven years under my tutelage, and many would consider him one of the finest up and coming swordsmen in the North.”

“Ser Brandon,” Lord Blackthorne arched an eyebrow. “The son of…..” he turned a questioning look to Ulfric who nodded his agreement. “The very same my Lord.”

Lord Blackthorne grunted.

“At any rate, we have only one additional matter to discuss before I pen the Duke my answer. There have been reports of a Witch that has fled north from the Inquisition. She was detained in this very city, but troubling reports have reached me that she is terrorizing local villages. Did you come across her in your travels south?”

Ulfric shook his head.

“No my Lord, for if I had she would be long dead. A pox on all Witches and otherworlders. May his light burn them to ash.”

Lord Blackthorne sighed, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing at his face. I saw my opportunity to speak and took it.

“My Lord,” I said. “If I may?”

Blackthorne gestured for me to continue.

“The army will have to travel north and doing so is likely to cause a commotion. There is no way for a body that large not to attract attention. I propose you allow myself and a small contingent of men a chance to investigate this Witch and bring her to justice.”

Ser Brandon snorted, but I ignored him.

“Mmm,” Blackthorne seemed to consider this. “Perhaps. I will need you and your men close at hand when we cross the border into the North. However, I might be able to spare you a few days. In the meantime though, the army will prepare to march. We will leave in two weeks time.”

Blackthorne stood, and we hastily stood with him.

“This meeting is adjourned. Ser Ulfric, I will pen you my reply shortly. In the meantime feel free to take refreshments in the commissary Pavillion.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

As we filed for the exit flap a worried Ser Connel pulled me aside.

“Watch your back with them,” he said, nodding towards the backs of the Northern Knights. “They do things differently in the North. All about traditions, and outdated rules, that lot. I may have once thought as they did… but I’ve come to respect you Ser William. And regardless of what they say you are worthy of the title Knight.”

With that he moved past me and left me standing there, hands at my sides like a fool. A soft laugh made me glance around. Joanna leaned against a nearby tent pole her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing her healers robes and her vale fluttered gently in the breeze.

“It seems that wherever you go you earn both friends and enemies, Ser William. I can’t help but wonder what kind of man you will become.”

I arched an eyebrow at her, amused by her amusement.

“Don’t you already know?”

The crinkling around her eyes let me know she was smiling.

“Perhaps. But power changes men in unpredictable ways. And you, Will of Blackbriar, are beginning to hold influence.”

I scoffed but when she didn’t laugh it sobered me.

“If the North had it their way they would strip me of any title and authority.”

Joanna picked at a nail, glancing up at me.

“Yes and why do you think that is? Tell me, why would the heir of a Dukedom bother to threaten a Knight of no real consequence? Could it be he fears what you represent?”

I furrowed my brow, thinking.

“That a common man could become a Knight?”

She pushed off of the pole.

“That a common man could become a Knight and earn the respect of nobility and the people. That is what frightens him. And it should. The nobility have ruled with an iron hand for far too long.”

I folded my arms across my chest.

“Careful, some would call that treason.”

“Only the smart ones.”

Her azure eyes drifted down my torso appreciatively, settling lower.

“The button of your pants is undone.”

I glanced down and the sound of her laughter rang through the air as she departed through the tents. I watched the sway of her hips, stuck between amusement and irritation. One thing was certain however. Joanna was correct. In the landscape of politics, my position was changing, and it was high time for me to do something about it.