Iron Blooded

As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, the reinforcements crested the nearby hill.

Never before had I been so happy to see the flapping banners of Lord Blackthorne's regiment. My men moved among the dead searching for any soldiers wounded who yet live. I crouched beside Jorgen, placing a hand on the other man's shoulders as his breathing turned labored.

“Hang in there, soldier,” I told him, reaching down to grip his hand.

“I need you to stay conscious until the healers arrive.”

Draxus strode over, his eyes flickering briefly over the injured soldier.

“We’re out in the open Will. If we want to get him to the healers then we’ll have to rejoin the main force. Moving him is risky.”

I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth, tasting metal.

“I don’t see that we have much of a choice.” I glanced towards the battlefield. Several Knights in heavy plate sat astride tall chargers, and next to them was a man in blue Magus robes. The sight of him made my heart a little later.

“The Magus is here. But why isn’t he attacking? The orks are on the retreat.. it would make more sense to press the advantage while he can.”

“Too risky. For one, some of the Sand Drakes have likely been recovered, and outriders on open ground are a real threat. What’s more, it’s entirely possible that the Shadow Magus is biding his time.”

“Baiting us?” Draxus raised an eyebrow. “To what end.”

“Not us,” I said. “The Magus from Ceris.”

I pointed and the warrior followed my finger, lips pulling downward. After a moment he sighed and bent down to help the others attempt to lift Jorgen. The soldier let out a low whimper as he body was lifted from the ground. I winced as red leaked from his tunic, watering the earth with red.

“Looks like they are sending a messenger,” Kato gestured with the tip of his blade. His messy hair was tousled with blood and sweat, and somehow the bastard still managed to smirk.

“Perhaps they’re thinking of trying for peace.”

“Peace,” I growled, the word more like a curse than anything.

“With the red skins? That’s a fool's errand.”

Kato shrugged stabbing his sword into the ground and leaning on it as he watched the lone horse and rider gallop from the ally line and down the hill.

“It depends on whether or not Lord Blackthorne is with them. The Magus on our side is powerful, but his affinity is for water if I remember correctly. Not exactly the most intimidating power, mm?”

He gave me a significant look. It was a fair point. I rose to my feet, dusting the dirt from my hands. In the corner of my vision, the charging meter for my Bastion ability blinked. It was more than 2/3’s charged, but by now I had grown to recognize the signs of mana fatigue. If I was going to use it, It would have to be a last resort. Spending all of my mana energy up front would leave me vulnerable, and if we had to face down the Magus again, I was going to need more than my wits.

“Alright,” I said, gesturing to the others. “Form ranks. We need to get across the distance and rejoin the main body. I’d rather not be caught out in the open if things pop off.”

We made our way across the fields as the son rose in the sky. Several riders moved to intercept us, but at the bottom of the hill I saw the tension in their faces ease. That was strange, were they anticipating enemies?

One of the Knights, a man I’d never seen before raised his fist in salute. His armor was of a make I hadn’t seen before. His gambeson was think and lined with fur, the metal places woven in at the shoulders, wrists and chest. At his side was a strange single-edged sword that looked more like a long thick knife than a blade meant for battle.

When his horse drew nearer, he reigned it in and gestured to the other riders to do the same.

“You must be William,” he said, staring down at me as I approached. By now I had become wary of men in fancy armor that addressed me on horseback. I gave him my best appraising look, as I came to a halt.

“Who wants to know?”

The Knight tilted his head at me, as if in surprise. I took his momentary confusion as an opportunity to read his stats.

Class: Northern Knight

Rank: First Knight Captain

Level: 50

The level alone was enough to raise an eyebrow. This guy was strong, and by the looks of it he wasn’t from around here.

“Who wants to know?” he laughed and I caught a hint of an accent in his tone as he replied.

“So you’re as bold as they say. Forgive my manners Ser William. They call me Ulfric, and as for who wants to know,” he crossed studded leather gloves over his saddle horn.

“That would be Kel Westfall, the Lord of the Black Mountains and the man poised to become the Duke of all the North. He’s taken some interest in you, young Knight. Many would consider it an honor.”

I eyed him with caution and turned to my men, catching Draxus’s eye.

“Get the wounded to safety,” I said. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

The soldier hesitated, eyes sliding between me and the mounted riders. But after a moment he gave a reluctant nod and led the men past. I watched the soldiers go, noting the weariness in them. Many walked with shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. It had been a harsh few weeks, and suddenly I felt my patience drain away.

I turned back to face Ulfric, standing tall with my back straight. I made a point of looking him in the eye and holding his gaze.

“Ser Ulfric, is it?” I asked, letting a note of steel creep into my voice. “I may be newly Knighted, but even I know that a Knight-Captain doesn’t often leave the side of his Lord. I take that to mean you were sent here on business from the North. I don’t know what the business might be, but I’m certain it doesn’t involve me.”

I paused, let the silence stretch between us as the Knight watched me. One of the readers leaned over and muttered something in a language I wasn’t familiar with. Her eyes were cold, and judging by the smirk on Ulfric’s face, I could guess the words had been kind.

“So,” I said, ignoring them. “Say what you want to say, and then take your leave. I’m a soldier, and in case you haven’t noticed there's a bloody war on.”

Ulfric leaned back, leather creaking as he regarded me cooly. There was no anger in him, and the lack of it made me feel uneasy. Instead, he was completely at ease, as if amused by the outburst of a child.

“Ah, Ser William,” he said, his accent making the words sound almost poetic. “I see you are not a foolish man. I would assume as well, that you would be considered reasonable. Yes, your assumption is correct. Lord Westfall has sent me here on business, but that is not for the ears of a commoner. We have heard rumors of you. Rumors of the country bumpkin turned Knight in the middle of a campaign.”

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His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“A farce, some might say. Then again in the south, anything is possible.”

The other two knights laughed and the woman twirled a dagger in her palm. I watched the blade jump and move narrowing my eyes. Though it was faint there was an aura around the blade – one that kept it rotating at a balance point as she moved it. A gifted then.

Unease washed through me again.

“So, what do you want?” I asked bluntly, all pretense at civility fading.

Ulfric lifted a hand, reaching inside his tunic. I tensed, and half lifted my shield in preparation for an attack. It never came. Instead, Ulfric pulled out the last thing I had expected. It was a small square of parchment, folded twice and stamped with a blue wax seal. He held the letter out to me, eyes glittering.

“My master bade me give you this,” he said. I hesitated for only a moment before striding forward and reaching out a hand. At the last moment, Ulfric dropped the letter and I had to stumble forward to catch it. One of the other riders snorted.

I stared at the seal for a moment, eying the Rams head sigil. Then I broke it open and smoothed out the letter.

The handwriting was black and scrawling, and by the looks of it, official.

By order of Lord Kel Westfall

The man known as William of Blackbriar is to be released from the service of the Kadian Army effective immediately. He is to surrender his arms, and armor, and upon his release will be paid the remainder of his due accumulated during campaign.

All titles, authority, and affiliations granted to the personage of William of Blackbriar are hereby annulled. This missive signals the lawful order of the Lord of Westfall, carrying with it the authority of the Duke of the North.

I read the damn thing over twice before it really started to set in. The worn parchment crinkled beneath my fingers as I clutched the missive in a death grip. My eyes kept snagging on the words released from service.

“Ser William!” I glanced up and saw a soldier in the black and red of Lord Blackthorne’s household rushing towards me. He came to a stop, hands on his knees several feet away. The mounted Knights and I stared at him.

“You’re needed at the helm,” he wheezed, glancing up at me with wide eyes. “Magus Ferris requests your council before the battle is met. He said something about a…”

His voice trailed off when he saw Ulfric.

“Knight-Captain!” The soldier sprang to a salute. “My apologies, I didn’t realize.. that is…”

He trailed off, glancing between the two of us. Ulfric replaced his false smile and tugged on the reigns of his horse.

“Never mind, soldier,” he said as he turned. The other riders followed him. “Ser William and I were done speaking, at least for the time being. We’ll be in touch soon, I would wager.”

He cast me a last glance of his shoulders before kicking his heels into his horse. I stood for a moment, still clutching the missive as I stared after them. Lord Blackthorne had warned me that there was a bigger game afoot. The Duke’s declaration was likely a jab, and one that came from a higher authority than I would have expected. Still, an order from a man who wasn’t present wouldn’t hold much weight.

I wracked my brain, trying to remember the vague procedure Gills had taught me as I filled out basic paperwork for gear and weapons. There would be some sort of recourse… perhaps an appeal?

“Ser?”

I blinked, my mind hurtling back to the present as the soldier called my name. The lad was young and nervous by the looks of it. I hastily stowed the missive in my inventory and gave him my best confident smile.

“Alright,” I said. “Take me to him.”

Magus Ferris himself stood on the hill apart from the other soldiers. His blue robes were cinched around his waist with a satin sash, and his arms were clasped behind him. I mounted the hill and he turned, his eyes widening slightly when he saw me. It was no surprise, I hardly cut the stately figure covered in ork blood and holding a short sword that didn’t quite fit the scabbard at my hip. I kicked myself for not retrieving my sword earlier, but it was too late now.

“Magus,” I said cautiously. Ferris inclined his head.

“Ser William. I understand we have you to thank for the salvation of Ceris.”

I cleared my throat.

“I suppose I had some hand in it. Although Lord Blackthorne-“

“I am in your debt.”

The Magus surprised me by bowing low, hands clasped over his chest. It was a formal gesture and one that had never been directed at me. I stood awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.

“My family has resided in Ceris for as long as I can remember. Though I came from humble beginnings – my father was a carpenter – I was lucky enough to have been blessed by the God King’s will. I spent much of my young life at the academy, and returning to Ceris years ago was… a blessing. When I heard about the attack I knew we were in dire straights. You and the rest of the Kadian Army fought bravely to protect our home and for that, you will always have my thanks.”

The sincerity of the statement surprised me. I nodded once and the man smiled. He looked young, I thought. Perhaps no older than I was.

“I hope your family fared well after the siege,” I said. Ferris nodded, his smile fading.

“Better than most. It will take the southern jewel a long time to rebuild. At any rate, I didn’t request your presence for idle chit-chat. You must be tired and thirsty. Allow me.”

He conjured a glass from his inventory and, with a flick of his wrist water filled it. When I accepted the glass it was cool to the touch and the water was clear. I lifted it to my nose and sniffed experimentally. Ferris chuckled.

“It is an odd thing, I understand. But I can assure you the water is completely safe. It is, after all, a product of my affinity.”

I raised a brow.

“And where does this water come from?”

The Magus bit his lip and thought then lifted a hand palm upwards.

“Water is in every living thing,” he said. “It is in the plants, in the ground, and even in us. If I want to draw moisture from something.. say the air, I have but to direct my will and concentrate it…” He made a sweeping motion with his fingers. Soft droplets of water plinked against my armor, before the air grew still again.

“Wow,” I said. “It’s.. impressive.”

Ferris laughed. He had a strange sing songy laugh that felt somehow contagious.

“I know what you’re thinking. A water affinity is hardly the most.. martial of magical skills. In truth, you would be correct in a general sense. Luckily, my master was nothing if not a skilled practitioner. Believe me when I say I can hold my own.”

I shrugged.

“I’ve seen firsthand how dangerous Magus can be. The question is, are you equipped to handle the Shadow Magus? I don’t mean any disrespect, and I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know the first thing about magic. But there isn’t any doubt he’s dangerous.”

Ferris nodded, scratching at his smooth chin.

“I saw enough when I arrived to know he’s a skilled Magus. That he has academy-level training I have no doubt. Though I do question the source..” He drew in a breath and seemed to realize he was rambling.

“Apologies, Ser William. To answer your question yes and no. In terms of skill, I am more than equipped to deal with him. My training was long and hard, and my master was the best practitioner of my affinity in the last few hundred years. However, I drained much of my mana putting our fires in the city, and it would take me days to regain it all. No, I didn’t come here to fight. When your messenger arrived in camp with such urgency I knew you had either succeeded or failed. Lord Blackthorne made it clear that meeting the orks in battle on the open plains was a last resort.”

He glanced again at the blood on my armor and grimaced.

“Yours was meant to be an assassination mission, not a full on skirmish.”

I raised my eyebrows at the rebuke.

“Could you have done better?”

He conceded the point with a slight smile.

“No, perhaps not. Regardless, the Lord’s Dacon and Blackthorne have asked me to present the Chief’s son with a ceasefire agreement if-“

“Ceasefire?” I stared at the Magus incredulously. “You want to offer a ceasefire to the beasts that stormed Ceris, slaughtered it’s people, and burned the city to the ground? You want to offer a ceasefire to the ork that cut the throats of innocents while we stood by on the walls forced to watch?”

My anger seemed to surprise him, but I was beyond caring. The Magus held up a calming hand and after a moment I took an irritated sip of water. The cool liquid soothed my dry throat but I wasn’t in the mood to thank him.

“You are correct of course,” said Ferris. “And for the lives you lost I do apologize. But in truth, there are other matters in Kadia that the army must attend to. The rebuilding of Ceris will be long and hard and that alone is a monumental task. More importantly, the appearance of a herald is troubling news indeed. The Kingdom needs to conserve its resources, and that includes soldiers such as yourself.”

I gave him a sullen glare.

“And what reason would the orks have to agree to such a treaty? They are beasts of conquest and war. And they love taking slaves.”

Ferris grimaced.

“They are a society of war, yes. However, their position is weaker than you might think. The red-skinned orks hail from many tribes, and each of those tribes are at odds with one another. Historically, they only unite when a single War Chief stakes his claim and is able to subjugate the others. Barbaric perhaps, but effective. It was for this reason Lord Blackthorne sent you to kill the Firebrand. Wounded and vulnerable, his death was the nail that split the wood.”

The Magus lifted a hand, robe flapping as he gestured towards the ork camp. I squinted in the dawn light and saw a group of figures moving in the distance. A large band of orks – but they weren’t moving towards us.

“They’re leaving,” I said, shoulders slumping as I watched.

Ferris nodded in agreement.

“Yes. And they are unlikely to return. Those that remain and follow the Chief’s son are likely to turn on him if he makes the wrong decision.”

“And you think him choosing to fight us would be that decision.”

Ferris smiled.

“You are no mere brute, Ser William. I’ll give you that. Perhaps Blackthorne was right to bet on you, despite the consequences.”

“Thanks…I guess.”

The sound of hooves made me turn. The messenger was riding up the hill. He pulled to a stop in front of the Magus, dust billowing out ahead of his steed. The horse's mouth was lathered, a testimate to how fast it was pushed. A hasty retreat?

“Magus,” said the soldier, dipping his head.

Ferris inclined his own. “Speak.”

“The Chief has accepted your offer and agreed to meet with you. However, he requested a…well.. he demanded a condition.”

Ferris arched his brows.

“And this condition is?”

The messenger looked from the Magus to me. And then he pointed.

“That he attends.”