《Of the Many and the Few》 Chapter One - Steel Autumn The last rays of light streaking into the valley casting the world in twilight, the biting chill in the early autumn air, breathing in deep heaving gasps, the ring of steel on steel, the ferrous odor of blood, the last of the magic within her dwindling, straining against her dented armor, crouching slightly Kirru struck. A rising blow, her foe moving far too slowly, the blade biting into it¡¯s hulking arm, she sent the limb flying across the battlefield with the force of her blow. With the enemy maimed, she slipped past as he collapsed into a heap. Despite the din, her mind was quiet, her body moving with practiced ease, a smile on her lips. Plunging further into the fray, a whirling strike, she cut down three smaller foes in a blur of metal and fury, her blade cutting flesh as easily as air. Her count at seven so far, She paused, glancing at what remained of the battle. Nearly half of the enemy remained, a small raiding band as the report had claimed, but the same could be said of her support forces, two score of her own men lay slain. While she had taken stock, a few of the remaining demons had taken the opportunity to surround her, their bloodied claws twitched in anticipation. Not to be bested so easily, she raised her blade in defiance, reaching within her soul, where the power of her peoples prayers lingered, she gathered all that remained, forging it into one final spell, uttering the ancient incantation in a world of quiet. They pounced, and were immediately rebuffed, a cacophonous crash of thunder, the scorching heat of lightning turning flesh to ash. Calling down heavenly wrath, her foes smote and in ruin, the last few demons, less than a dozen, were scattered, and they retreated back to the shadowed lands of Dol Aram. She collapsed, falling to one knee, the battle finished, her support troops collected her, and she was carried back to camp. The rest of the night passed in a haze her. She slept, a dreamless sleep, until long after dawn. The young woman awoke alone, her tent bright, garish beams of day slipped in through the front fold of her tent, swayed by a gentle breeze, and seeped through the translucent canvas from above. Propping herself up on sore limbs, still dressed in a dirty gambeson, she looked around for her armor. Carefully arranged on clean canvas, ceremonial oils and enchanted hammer in place already, She rose from her bedding and moved to take a kneeling position before her equipment. She began with a prayer, ¡®Blessed Bargoria¡¯ taking the breastplate in hand, dipping a cloth in the sacred oils, ¡®Defending together¡¯ polishing a large dent, ¡®Your strength mine¡¯ tapping it with the hammer, magic doing its work ¡®My blade yours¡¯ with a satisfying chime the damage undid itself, the oil burning off like steam. Quietly, precisely, she continued to repair her gear. It was short work, for her it was a special pleasure, the act of setting something wrong to right. Having finished, her mind absent, fingers tracing grooves of rune-work, her thoughts drifted to the coming season. She and her mentor were to be replaced on the front. She¡¯d hoped all the members of her circle had made it through. Taxing though the magic was, seeing the front, witnessing demons first hand, the summer had cemented the importance of her duty as a Valor. She lamented that she could not yet do more. Her feelings were a jumbled mess, desire to stay and fight, fear of the demons, worry for her circle, sadness over the lost lives of her soldiers, dread of the intrigues of court. Rising slowly, her feet finding their own way, she came out of her tent, wandering idly looking for her mentor. As expected, after these events, she found her. Sitting nestled against a tree, whistling a melancholy tune, Mauvawen Tafnen sat nestled between root and trunk, her own gambeson still splattered with blood, the stink of battle pervading her space. ¡®Eighth Sword. Noon yet?¡¯ came her mentors soft tones, despite her use of formal titles. ¡®Third Axe¡¯ Kirru spoke with a teasingly over respectful. ¡®Report! Negative! Lunch incomplete.¡¯ ¡®Never will.¡¯ came the retort, a cocked eyebrow took Kirru¡¯s measure. ¡®Soon¡¯ Kirru saw her mentors eyes gaze fell to the camps wagons, which were hastily being packed. Mauvawen noted her junior¡¯s eyes flash wide, the nature of her disappointment obvious, before the sound of a growling stomach disturbed the lingering silence. Kirru dramatically sobbed, earning a roll of the eyes from her mentor, earning the juniors pouting glare, then silence fell over the pair. After having spent so long together, it seemed to Kirru like Mauvawen could almost read her thoughts. ¡®Hesitation?¡¯ came her mentors inquiry, the care audible, the between them closed by Mauvawen rising to her feet. This was just another such time. She probably even knew the question already. ¡®Stay? came her whisper, being taken into an embrace, burying her head into Mauvawen¡¯s chest. ¡®Gods sleep.¡¯ came a firm but gentle reply. ¡®Tired fighters die.¡¯ she finished. Stroking her hair, the senior valor offered what comfort she could, and it was not a long wait for her charge to grunt with understanding. ¡®Wondering. Husband.¡¯ Kirru rebounded with a change of the conversations thread. Her aging mentor had been dreading a return to their home city. A veteran, and as the seasons crept by forces conspired to force her hand, a point that the younger Valor found to be an endless mine of drama. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡®Cursed¡¯ spat her mentor, her tone harsh, a smile creeping on her face, well worn wrinkles coming into view, as though to spite their bearer. ¡®Demons take me¡¯ a shake of the elder¡¯s head, head jutting forward, finding a resting place on the juniors own head. ¡®Chose¡­¡¯ the junior dragging the word out for as long as she dared ¡®have chosen.¡¯ she intoned, with comical seriousness. ¡®Redundant.¡¯ was fired back. ¡®Know. Begrudge¡¯ each word dropped like a weight, with increasing venom, the elder¡¯s feelings retread as before. ¡®She avoids¡¯ an accusation caused Kirru to mentally screech to a halt. The two stood, asilence between them, as Kirru processed. Words were difficult, her mind still numb, only able to make the usual jokes, to have the same conversations, her mentor¡¯s eyes bored into her soul, and finally all she uttered ¡®Too many.¡¯ ¡®Too many.¡¯ was echoed. ¡®twelve and eight, them? Yours?¡¯ ¡®four tens and five¡¯ tears beginning to form on her yes. She could not bring herself to meet her mentors gaze, she could feel her knees shake, unable to bear the weight of it. ¡®Too many.¡¯ A kiss on the forehead jarred her from her reverie, they had all been so kind, yet she found their names missing as if being able to name them made it more real. ¡®Other walks, attempted.¡¯ was the continuation. ¡®Scatter, villages burned.¡¯ ¡®Less next time.¡¯ a sobbed but determination rang clear in spite of it. ¡®Less next time.¡¯ came the echo. ¡®None.¡¯ She met her mentor¡¯s visage, her brow was furrowed, with an edge, a fire burning some where behind them, the heat of it radiated though her mind. ¡®None.¡¯ Kirru choked down a sob. ¡®None¡¯ she intoned again more firmly. ¡®Gods must rest.¡¯ came the refrain. ¡®Recruits train.¡¯ Mauvawen jabbed a finger into Kirru¡¯s chest and finally, as if to lighten the mood. ¡®Husbands found.¡¯ The two continued to talk for a while, and the comments on footwork, questions of conserving movement, husbands, children, mothers, and priests all were run into the ground, per their usual. There was a tint to it, a backdrop of sadness ever present, but ignored as best they could. A call rang out, some time later, leading the two to make their way back to camp. Everything had been set up, her tent, was disassembled but her armor, was left alone, with a few of the support troops standing around, keenly noticing not to notice. Kirru felt her face burn with the heat of embarrassment, and she hastened to pack it with the proper care but an obvious rush were anyone to be paying her any mind. Darting to the anointed wagon, she placed her gear, gingerly next to a much more tightly bound, and more elegantly prepared bundle with an axe, almost impossibly big next to it. With the task done, she made her way to her place in the band, and the wagons began to roll. Mavuwen, having already arrived, could be seen holding a small basket, covered with a light, white cloth. ¡®A minor miracle.¡¯ handing the basket to the young valor. Glancing around as if taking possession of some contraband could smell the contents before even pulling back the cloth, was straining to retain her glee. A treat she had not had since the start of the campaign, a treat of fried dough, the dough usually filled with spices, covered in a glaze of melted sugar, sometimes the glaze was further modified with various fruit flavors, a favorite of hers since she was a child. They were best fresh, though at this particular moment she was glad to have them besides. Peeling back the cloth, allowing the smell to slowly drift off them, she was met with a bounty of the treats. Quickly, almost cautiously, holding a taste of her childhood which after this summer felt so long ago, almost like a different world, popping it into her mouth she was met with a shocking surprise. The pastry practically melted in her mouth, the kiss of an ovens heat filled her mouth, the sugar flowed almost like a syrup, and she could practically smell a bakery. Surely this was the work of magic. The awe must have been written on her face. A knowing chuckle slipped past Mauvawen¡¯s lips. ¡®Fresh?¡¯ ¡®Yes. God¡¯s touch?¡¯ ¡®Aye.¡¯ This came from one of the men, who flanked the two Valors in their traveling formation. Many of the men, especially the more seasoned veterans, their faces wore a kind of a satisfied joy. Kirru offered one of the treats to one of the men, a front-line veteran who was practically her shadow on the battlefield, a grizzled, bearded, wall of muscle and scars, a man named Branndel rebuffed her offer. As did anyone else who was within arms length. ¡®Look.¡¯ Mauvawen directed her attention to the sight of the soldiers around her. Many quickly adopted a more stern expression but many more could not hide the hints of smiles. ¡®Daughters.¡¯ she whispered. ¡®Take your joy.¡¯ An invocation that she took too with gusto. The baked goods were gone too soon, the world they had built collapsed into the stomping of feet, the chill of the wind, and the dim light of a day grown cloudy. It was many hours before they finally came to see sight of the walls of the garrison. They entered, to no grandeur, no fanfare, but with the satisfied grunts of many men, who could at last take rest. Villagers who tended the garrison set to the work of unloading wagons, helping the warriors doff their armor, storing armaments, and seeing so that the warriors found warm beds and full bellies. The small fort was spartan. There was a small retinue of guardsmen bearing banners of some noble from the capital. Kirru did not have long to wonder the ides of that omen before she and Mauvawen were set upon. A well dressed man approached them, the symbols of a bureaucrat plain to see on his chest, and in his hands, his tawny blonde hair was untouched by the road. Kirru wondered as to why in a place such as this he would spare time for a bath, but surmised Valors could be powerful allies at court, or so she had been instructed and warned to avoid those too eager to curry favor. ¡®The Third Axe, Eighth Sword.¡¯ his tone warm, and his bow deep, his smile practiced. ¡®Good Tidings, new assignment.¡¯ and he produced from a jacket pocket a sealed letter, and handed it to Mauvawen. Kirru was less than pleased when her mentors expression soured. Chapter Two - A Debt of Death ¡®Rytmer abandoned?¡¯ came Mauvawen¡¯s voice, touched with accusation and finishing with only just noticeable anger. ¡®No, no.¡¯ came was the reply that escaped the courier. ¡®Reinforcements sent.¡¯ ¡®When?¡¯ ¡®Nine days¡¯ ¡®Reason?¡¯ Mauvawen had taken a position leaning over, the heat of her gaze wilting the courier¡¯s soft spine, she leaned over him her presence crushing him. ¡®Fo-Fo-Forbidden.¡¯ He shook his head. ¡®Roads...dangerous.¡¯ came Kirru through feigned innocence. ¡®Accidents¡¯ she shrugged. The morale of bureaucrat was straining to hold, with the threat only just veiled. Mauvawen simply continued to bore into his form with escalating rage apparent in her glare. The confrontation was causing some discomfort in the folk of the small keep. The support troops of the valor¡¯s was instead clearly suppressing laughter, as they avoided looking with practiced ease. It was not long before the soft, tawny haired man made his decision. ¡®Falner.¡¯ he clearly hesitated. ¡®Broken¡¯ he let the last out, just above a whisper. ¡®Hundreds¡­¡¯ and that seemed to be all that could be compelled from him. Mauvawen glanced toward her captain, who while he did not falter, he did not comply. His head shook in response. ¡®Battle¡¯s finished. Winter arrives. Ease.¡¯ Came some half stuttered apologies from the courier who now that his word was done, desperately speaking to salvage what good will he could. ¡®Toll of Dol Aram.¡¯ spat Mauvawen, her expression hard, her hands tensed into fists. She turned and practically stomped toward the keep. The support troops resumed their winding down after the campaign, many disappearing into various barracks, leaving just Kirru and her shadow, and the destroyed letter bearer. He turned and attempted to resume his effort with the junior valor, seeming to look for softer ground. ¡®Rest! Galas! Honors.¡¯ he attempted to gain Kirru¡¯s attention. ¡®Deaths on border.¡¯ Came her response with a sweet smile. ¡®Falner?¡¯ her expression melting into studied, neutral stone. ¡®Fifth Bow, dead. Nine score. Hashamal¡¯ the messenger¡¯s face too took on a more formal expression. ¡®Never twice, two centuries.¡¯ With the keep taken, the council had decided it unlikely another attack would come. It had been several generations. Kirru could not prevent the crack in her facade at the shock at the sheer number reported. The name, one of the more notorious demons that had been harassing the border for nearly two decades and the death of a fellow valor, a fifth no less. Kirru¡¯s mind drifted back to her sparring sessions, when she¡¯d first gained her own rank, a fight with a sixth a year before, toward the end of that training season. She¡¯d been demolished, practically helpless. It was a lesson in humility she¡¯d been told later. She had also yet to see Mauvawen fight more than a few demons at a time. She wasn¡¯t fast, but she was strong, unbelievably so, a castle-breaker, or so Kirru had been told. ¡®Peace, one year?¡¯ She asked. The demons had struck once in late winter, but it had been thirty years, and on the back of a storm. To this day some folks on the border claim the blizzard was unnatural.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡®Spring.¡¯ for the first time since coming back her shadow spoke. ¡®Aye.¡¯ the other man agreed. Kirru was not keen to disobey, not with her only being on the border one season. She did not want to be accused of cowardice or weakness. She knew her position was not beyond reproach. She looked off to where Mauvawen had gone, then to her shadow. The two exchanged a nod, before she took off. The courier moved to follow, but his path was barred by the grizzled soldier. The two glared at each other for a time, before the tawny haired traveler offered the soldier dinner, deciding he would recoup what he could from him. Kirru¡¯s mentor was found where expected. In her room, at the base of the keep. She forced a smile, but it was transparent, the student all too studied on the faces of her teacher. The two embraced, for a moment, before Mauvawen went to packing. Kirru understood that this was the answer she had come for, and so set to help as well. The two were silent for a long time, before Kirru addressed her other concern. ¡®Split?¡¯ ¡®Both, to Ardwyn.¡¯ the mentor replied, pausing to pass a genuine, warm smile between them. She mussed the hair on her students head. ¡®next year.¡¯ the mentor pursed her lips in thought before shaking her head. It was likely, four years, was usually as long as these pairings could last, almost never more than that. The capitol, Ardwyn, was home to the various circles that gave their power to the valors. This would mean, stopping for gifts like as not. Something Kirru, was looking forward to. There was another matter of travel, that would be left for them to discuss. ¡®Galtormon?¡¯ a city on the way to their destination, that happened to be the hometown of Kirru. Her ancestral home no less, where her siblings might yet be found or her father assuming in his state that he had survived the year. It would delay their trip, but no one would question them. Kirru was instead unsure. Most of her retinue, were drawn from the Capitol, or were from the province on the on the opposite side from where her home sat. She did want to, not to see her family which would likely be unavoidable, but rather to get gifts, from her home province. She also had no desire to delay the men in her charge from their well earned rests. The season had been hard, which she knew Rytmer was not the hardest hit area, and even still it had been difficult. The sooner they were home, the sooner she could pursue further training. ¡®Time. A week.¡¯ Mauvawen said, pulling her back to the present. ¡®Now.¡¯ she let the word hang for a moment. She frowned as she said. ¡®perhaps.¡¯ she had hoped this would signal well enough her thinking. Eyes continued to pry, so Kirru added. ¡®Carchal?¡¯ The addition seemed to satisfy the elder. It was a city on the edge, where much of the same goods would likely be found, if perhaps in lower quality. Mauvawen gave her a concerned look, but did not pry further. ¡®Your things.¡¯ Mauvawen added, the first word bore all the emphasis, as she finished bundling up a bag of her clothes. The younger playfully avoided eye contact, along with the question. ¡®Go¡¯ the command preceded a gentle push. She lingered, to finish observing her mentor. The action of cleaning seemed to have brought her piece with it, in spite of her displeasure. Kirru, was in possession of much less, and had a much smaller room. Most of her things were brought with her. Given what she knew now, she would see to different arrangements. Of course, it was possible they would not return to Rytmer at all next season. Shifting defenses, to keep the demons guessing. Though she pondered, that might change. Nine score. Nine. Would it be that they could ever afford to assemble a group that might repel such a force. For the first time since hearing it it occurred, that might have been them. She could herself be dead, or worse. This sank in, for some reason without disturbing her. It was a strange feeling for her, and one she could not entirely identify, at least on her own, noting so she could consult her friend later. She was already finished with her own small collection of belongings, before Mauvawen had even arrived. She rolled her eyes, in faux exasperation at Kirru. She ended up on the bed next to her, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, sitting in silence for some time. ¡®Strange.¡¯ Kirru finally stated at least. ¡®Dread.¡¯ the mentor spoke with her tone dropping, an nearly guttural sound. ''Ball Gowns.'' she joked, but the feeling from earlier settled back in, letting a chill fill her being. Kirru ensured their eyes met when she spoke next. ''Rytmer. Small Falner.¡¯ ¡®Fear?¡¯ a question paired with a tilt of the head, their gaze held. Kirru responded with a shake of her head. She looked down and away. ¡®Too comfortable?¡¯ the mentor asked her expression was certain, and knowing. ¡®His day. Not mine.¡¯ Kirru responded. She felt a kind of emptiness at it all. She knew, it might be the fifth bow having this same conversation, with another younger valor only not so unlike herself. It was a peace, with the fact, if not with her death itself. A feeling that she could fight, and do so perfectly, and still they would find her battered form buried beneath a dozen corpses. Yet, knowing all of this, she would walk again to that place of steel and blood. The calm felt alien, if she focused on it. Mauvawen struggled to find the words, a state Kirru could see. She knew, the Third Axe had felt this, she had looked into that depth within herself, this calm, this stony silence in her own heart. ¡®Duty.¡¯ the older woman said, but a word with which the displeasure was obvious. ¡®Certainty.¡¯ again a shake of the head, signaled that it was off. Between the two, they lacked the word. Tears, from a place she couldn¡¯t describe, formed at her eyes, leaving Kirru to bury her face into the firm shoulders of her friend, the one soul with whom find solace. The two sat in silence, for some time that night, with only the sobbing of the younger disturbing the calm of night. Chapter Three - Temptation of Peace Malgoene¡¯s pace was leisurely, the path to the war room with it¡¯s arched ceilings and tall windows allowed the last light of the day to fall through in beautiful patterns, soaking in the moment with great relish, he was eager for the next phase. Always prepared to play tempter, to pull at the hardened heart¡¯s of his foes to watch them twist beneath the weight of possibility, slowly expanding their vision, feeding them hope, Malgoene hid not his smile as he entered that oft visited chamber. It had been nearly a quarter milinea since he¡¯d last played diplomat, and he hoped after crashing through their borders they would be more pliant than their last meeting. Hashamal would need a reward. He pushed the large decorated doors to his war room open with gusto. His vassals, the four demeon generals of Dorumunn, genuflecting upon his entry. He¡¯d left these three with that pattern, hoping the more oft a reminder of position would temper their ambitions. His eyes informed him differently. Surprised though, he would have to chat with the spider. ¡®Majesty.¡¯ came a greeting from his right hand, first of the four, and likely the second oldest being in the nation. He was a stocky, muscular creature, with ruddy brown skin, dressed in elegant robes, his three eyes focused on his liege. Malgoene always secretly hoped one day he¡¯d find a genuine usurper on his hands, something patient, ancient, and hidden beyond his vision. He suspected Balzaed had long since accepted his position. No Malgoene thought, they were not his. ¡®Rise my loyal vassals, we have much we need to discuss.¡¯ With a gesture of his hand to accompany his words, he bid them rise. ¡®You will be pleased my lord. I had not received full details when I first reported to you, but Hashamal has claimed a valor. The fifth of Bow, as I understand.¡¯ this came from the one ranked third of the four, a giant beast, armored in thick plates, four arms, two crossed two others with sticks moving pieces across their board, his head sported one large horn, beneath his brow his four eyes darted across the board, and a set of reports. While he seemed busy, his eyes were wandering. Perhaps it was him, or perhaps Zal¡¯Zabazz was merely watching to see how it would play out. ¡®Alive? Oh, we would not be so lucky.¡¯ the king of Dorumnn chuckled. ¡®You have it rightly there m¡¯lord, he also took nineteen of ours.¡¯ The horned monster replied ¡®Inconsequential. Who took his heart?¡¯ ¡®It was to my surprise, that Hashamal himself did not. He was wounded by the bow in the attempt. I respect his courage¡¯ This coming from the second of the four. A two headed fiend, one a wolf, the other a goat, a quartet of long prehensile tails flicked, and twisted behind it, her long, sinewy limbs stretched from her seat to rest on the table, drumming her seven fingers rhythmically. Her king could see the wheels turning in her mind. Gyekeen was thinking of their upcoming expansion. She wasn¡¯t even hinting at distraction. They wouldn¡¯t be hers, besides he¡¯d give her credit, she¡¯d make the attempt herself. ¡®So a minor fiend from his forces? Truly interesting. I suspect a name we¡¯ll hear, and hear more of then.¡¯ Malgoene advanced on the board. If they were accurate, Falner was taken, and it was the second most heavily fortified. Lomrar held, but considering the valor that was posted there it was unsurprising. It was the most direct line to their capital. Rytmer was in question from their intelligence. ¡®Rytmer held then?¡¯ ¡®A pair, one new this season. She spilled her first blood toward the start of this season.¡¯ The last of the four weighed in. The newest, maintaining the smallest form, he kept a form much like the humans of the surrounding territories. He dressed much the same. The king was informed that only just returned the last week from the northern barbarians that lived within the mountains. Maalk had proven useful, shape changing had gifted him an unrivaled in spying on their enemies, that meant he spent much of his time away from the capital. A schemer by nature, he assumed they were his. He¡¯d give the poor would be assassins a break however. ¡®I am keenly aware, agents of the spider, if you still are that is, of your presence. I¡¯ll allow you to leave, if you reveal yourselves and simply go.¡¯ the annoyance on the face of Maalk confirmed his suspicion. Good. Glad to see his ambition had yet to be curbed. The guild agents however had not budged. ¡®Not for me then?¡¯ still no movement. The four generals looked to to their king, Maalk bearinga look of annoyance, Zal¡¯Zabazz appearing patient, Gyekeen showing eagerness, Balzaed¡¯s expression bearing amusement. Malgoene shuffled his cape, and with but the barest gesture the a thrumming sound filled the room, weight amplified, two forms toward the back, flanking a window, collapsed. The generals shifted their wight, but otherwise seemed undisturbed. Malgoene strode slowly toward the back to the sound of the two gasping, their limbs unable to move meaningfully. ¡®You were give the option.¡¯ the king checked for the mark, and sure enough they were once one servants of the spider. He left them to suffocate, with lungs not powerful enough to take in breath. The five sat patiently for the minute, before the king pulled back his enchantment.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡®I was hoping for more gore, my king.¡¯ Gyekeen spoke first. ¡®Perhaps, then hire your own, and I might oblige.¡¯ ¡®You tempt me, sire.¡¯ her hound head smiled. The goat speaking in its stead. ¡®So, we have taken ground, and we have traditionally taken no more. Do we think the time to change that is this year? ¡®There is no sign among the stars, or freak of weather to note our change. I would foster their superstition, by waiting¡¯ Balzaed intoned. ¡®I agree with your original plan, sue for peace, let them grow softer over their generations.¡¯ Maalk stated. ¡®The loss of a valor ought suffice for pressure.¡¯ ¡®The warbands already recalled?¡¯ the king inquired. ¡®Indeed, with only the forces remaining at Falner, which only has two, we mixed a few of the mismatched bands that had lost members.¡¯ the great horned giant said, gesturing with his two sticks. ¡®They will not strike, they will welcome the respite that follows us having a major victory.¡¯ spoke the wolf. ¡®I hear they call it a toll.¡¯ the goat followed. Malgoene nodded in agreement. ¡®That makes the next course clear, I¡¯ll bring a small guard, and make my approach from there¡¯ He gestured to their new fort. ¡®Gyekeen, I believe this was to be yours? Do let me know if you give it a name, so I can make it official. That leaves one last thing.¡¯ He looked to his generals. ¡®I suspect, I¡¯ll not need to act personally in the matter our champion who has tasted the flesh of one of their valors? That comment caused the generals to exchange loaded glances. He had assumed, they would have their own networks already moving on recruitment. It was not often, that there was an opportunity to absorb some of their powers. The transfer, was universally incomplete with lesser demons handling corpses. The King was curious, to see what his spy network would provide later. ¡®Very good. My proxies will reach you if I have any commands. You shall know them.¡¯ ¡®You surely don¡¯t mean to go directly, yourself, my king.¡¯ Maalk asked. ¡®You¡¯ve yet to see our King and his moods.¡¯ Balzaed responded ¡®We have our guesses first general.¡¯ Gyekeen countered. ¡®I should like to know myself, but do not trust his lies.¡¯ both heads ending in a cackling. ¡®I leave you to your duties.¡¯ Malgoene spoke over them, increasing his volume only just enoguh to ensure all heard. ¡®See that the spider gets her corpses.¡¯ He would have to postpone his personal visit, frankly shocked that anyone would even accept the contract. A rarity that had piqued his interest and he wanted to confirm some details. But that could wait, for a few months, while he played at diplomat. Once again, leisurely strolling through the halls of his castle, in the shining, if chaotic, city of Dol Raldar, his crown jewel, and the result of nearly four thousand years of work. He¡¯d long since grown too powerful for fights with individuals to be threatening. So instead he set to work on a grander scale. While it was often rumored, that he could be in many places, and he could, a few via tricks and magics, he could not be a nation, not alone. So he built one, and shaped it, and did his best. He¡¯d tried several times actually, making as many different claims, and swearing as many histories both personal, and for the lands around him. This one, had ran for nearly eleven centuries, the record, to date. While he was sure, he could with his forces, and but the right command destroy the nation to the south. But their valors, represented them well, and there were so many questions he had to ask, so much to learn. So with that, he pressured them, year over year, taking more of their land, killing more of their people, and then he would arrive, with new terms, new arguments, and a fresh crop of their people to talk with. They¡¯d be largely the same, changed by increments of generations. They would slide inexorably, drifting to somewhere, he didn¡¯t even think they knew. He wondered how long it might take, as Maalk said to allow them to soften. He also wondered how far he could push them along this path. Their nation had existed, in one form or another for a while. In his youth, their progenitors had actually proven threatening. He¡¯d had to flee from what would now be called their valors. Virtues, or Justicars, the names had changed, but the root magic stayed the same. It offered possibilities he could not ignore. Murmuring with a combination of guards, and servitors, and spies, he assembled the small army of courtiers and soldiers he would be bringing with him on his journey to the heart of the land those valors called home, the home of his enemies, or at least what passed for them these days, as far as individual beings could be counted. A new face, for an old foe. The great king, was so, looking forward to this. Chapter Four - The Road Home The road to Carchal was pleasant enough, long rolling hills, mostly wiled fields flanked the well worn dirt road, a carriage leading an army, with a single grumpy passenger. It would be another two weeks at pace before the valors made their way back to the capital. The diplomat had insisted they return, but he found deaf ears at the mere suggestion they abandon those soldiers with whom they had spent the season. His annoyance clearly brought no small parcel of joy to the Third Axe. ¡®Friends at court.¡¯ The younger broached up, for what must have been the fourth time that day, so a bemused smile from her mentor, the elder waiting whatever new argument she would broach. ¡®Better location?¡¯ a mild change in tactic, mentioning improved chambers and other amenities, food having been her fist attempt, but weather was as much a factor she supposed. This was met with a smug grin ¡®Where I please.¡¯ her tone laden with certainty, ¡®Who bars?¡¯ ¡®Capitol?¡¯ the younger returned, thinking she¡¯d cornered her. ¡®You.¡¯ A finger jabbing the Eight Sword¡¯s chest. ¡®Escort¡¯ ¡®Last attack.¡¯ ¡®Polite.¡¯ The younger pouted, knowing she was beat. To suggest otherwise would be tantamount to calling her elder rude or at least derelict of duty, protocol being clear. The frame had been placed and she was not aware of a way to escape it. ¡®Carchal soon.¡¯ spoke one of their retinue adding a much needed interruption to her train of thought. What would she get though, Cresting on last hill, the rural town coming into view. Before them first were tended fields, forming a clean break from their wild cousins that had kept the troop company, shops arranged along the main thoroughfare, houses expanding out from that, with some sparsely dotting the fields, that formed the outer most ring of its limits. It was quaint, and it pleased Kirru, as it bore no traces of fortification. They approached the outskirts, finding a few of the townsfolk had come to gather at the edge of the shops. Some small amount of cheering, and offerings of gratitude. The two valors of course, gathered no small part of the attention around them. She was offered various sweets, including some of the local specialty. The area of Kirru¡¯s homeland was known firstly for its production of sweet vegetables, tubers mostly, and they featured heavily in local sweets. To her surprise, a few of the elders performed a kind of truncated prayer, bearing some markings of local custom, that in its full form would complete the other half of the ritual that gave the valors themselves the ability to tap into the essence of those offering it. The ritual of the Bargoria, was what allowed them to stand before demonkind as equals, or in many cases greater. It was normally distributed enough to not bear risk to those offering their life essence, but too few souls, or a valor¡¯s folly could take the lives of its participants. As the crowed thinned enough to allow them to continue their march, the gifts were, by Kirru¡¯s measure more than she had intended to acquire, so she pressed Mauvawen to simply pass through, with her thoughts lingering on the soldiers and their families, and the leverage gained from the bureaucrat''s pleading gaze. Their march continued for the fortnight, passing through towns every few days, gatherings like that in Carchal grew smaller and smaller, and by the second week did not occur at all. After having been on the front since she gained her rank and proper position among the valors, the difference stood starkly in her mind, but whatever council she had gained, she kept to herself to further mull over. Entering the Capitol, the shining city, the Everlasting Baribwal, it was a a different matter. The Third Axe and Eighth Sword were the last of the valors to return this season, but there was still a parade that pulled many of the residents into the streets. There was music, and other accouterments of celebration but to Kirru it felt altogether different, it was to her eyes a show. A grand gesture to be sure, one of celebration , but it bore not the same gratitude to her eyes, she felt no warmth in her heart. Disappearing into the castle at the city¡¯s core, the silence felt almost kinder to her. Waving goodbye to the last of their troops, many having departed during their march, her shadow, was the last to leave. She practically forced him, to take a bundle containing a mix of the various sweets she had been given the week before. She¡¯d hoped the minor enchantments the cooks had prepared, had kept them as fresh as when they were first received.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Mauvawen was less reticent to accept a similar package. ¡®Obligations.¡¯ she spoke after Kirru had handed it over. Kirru was unsure if it was a command, or an admission, but she departed without waiting to clarify. Kirrue had her own obligations to see to though, and went about finding those whose essence she had been using to fight, this season. Having to ask several guardsmen for directions, she found them waiting, in a tea room, overlooking the castle gardens. A collection of eleven elders, all dressed in robes bearing a similar pattern, that marked them as the Bargoria of the eight sword. Bargoria was at once a title, for those who serve with a valor, as well as the ancient name for a council of sages who first brought this form of magic to the people, it was unusual and the only one of its kind among the people, but it was what had allowed them for these many years to repel the foul folk of Dol Aram. ¡®Safe return.¡¯ one spoke, standing from her seat and approaching her sword. ¡®Full Glad¡¯ and taking her into an embrace. She knew the elder, and had for many years. She was actually the first to have volunteered to act in the eight swords service, back when her propensity for the type of magic was first discovered. The memory was painful, with Tyrin being the one bright spot from those days. She acted as a grandmother for Kirru. Her warmth, touched her deeply. ¡®Full Glad¡¯ replied the young warrior. Looking up to see the rest of them, smiling and returning her gaze with a nod, or a raised cup. She had ten when she had first left. ¡®Hard fought?¡¯ came another, and older man, who had only just reached the age where he would be accepted into his position. Jagner, a retired blacksmith, the last of his apprentices left him some years before, whose strength failed him in that old task. His hands still glowed a faint red from the lingering traces from his oft use of magic. He¡¯d told her stories from his youth where he¡¯d just bend the metal into shape with his bare hands. Confirming that they could tell how she¡¯d drained the last of her reserves, refusing to pull no more from them, she had been hoping to avoid worrying them. ¡®Seven, slain. Third Axe, thirteen.¡¯ ¡®Rytmer?¡¯ this question coming from an unfamiliar face. ¡®Unharmed.¡¯ this elicited several sighs of relief, but it visibly eased the old woman who provided the question. ¡®From Rytmer?¡¯ A returned nod, followed by ¡®Children still.¡¯ the older woman approached and expanded her arms for a hug as well. ¡®Sovim Rallz.¡¯ Embracing Sovim she replied ¡®Kirru Shallmar¡¯ ¡®Eighth Sword known.¡¯ the old woman chuckled in reply. ¡®Chosen.¡¯ Its true that nearly all Bargoria volunteered, and even then most acted with their chosen weapon, it was still an honor that Kirru wasn¡¯t fully prepared to receive. People trusted her, so soon, with their very lives, without her doing very much at all, she could not simply blame her part as a valor, as with Sovim choosing her, so too did most around her now. Shaking off the tears for another, more solemn time she rallied her cheer. ¡®Gifts!¡¯ she placed the package she had carried here. ¡®From Carchal. Gifts to me.¡¯ she undid the lose twine she had used to seal the bag for transport here, and she set to handing them out. ¡®Valors with bargoria, share.¡¯ both their burdens, and their blessings she thought. She was a weapon, their weapon after all. The tearoom was a lively place for a while, and stories were traded, of Rytmer and of Sovim¡¯s children, of the battle now past, of Mauvawen, and of winter and its coming doings. She left exhausted, for being the center of so much attention left her drained, but it was yet one the things she was glad to bear. Collapsing into her bed, in a comfortable chamber that she had spent several years in already, her home, as she felt these days, she slept off the days travel. Kirru was prodded awake, by a familiar, and less than pleasant figure. It was the sixth spear, the very same one she had sparred against to learn her humility not so long ago, his eyes were urgent, so she pushed her emotions aside. ¡®Valors called. War room.¡¯ Arriving last with the Sixth Spear, still shaking the last vestige of sleep from her mind, she found the councilor of war, standing at a table laden with troop markers, surrounded by every valor who could be found within the capitols walls, and with the assembly complete, he spoke at last. ¡®Ten score strong.¡¯ their commander placed pointed to a cluster of pieces, three of which Kirru had never seen placed on the board. Two matched, with a third large figure, thefigures were assembled at Falner, indicationg their direction of travel was towards Baribal itself. Her brow was furrowed, and Mauvawen leaned into whispered to her ¡®Commander¡¯ gesturing to the largest of the markers ¡®Honor guard.¡¯ bouncing between the two other pieces, ten score in addition made this a force unlike any they had dealt with in generations. ¡®Scouts?¡¯ the First Flail prompted. A bear of a man, tall by any standard, standing a head taller than the next largest of the assembly. ¡®Blue flag. Sign of peace?¡¯ The councilor spoke in a measured tone, his gaze hard, as it looked to thee firsts assembled. ¡®So many.¡¯ intoned the First Bow ¡®Too many¡¯ about half of the fifteen assembled valors offered their nods of agreement. It was true the force assembled was more than a major war party, more than than any of them had seen. ¡®Who?¡¯ Mauvawen spoke quietly, ¡®Powerful?¡¯ ¡®Strange report¡¯ the second spear broke in ¡®Blinding Aura¡¯ Kirru was familiar with many basic magics she had been trained to use as a valor, detection being one of the simplest and most important. It was fairly common to be able to detect the magical forces in a being with even rudimentary teaching, Valors themselves appeared as bonfires of magic, but for a being to be blinding? ¡®Impossible.¡¯ the First Flail stated flatly. ¡®Real? Why war? Massacre!¡¯ he near shouted, a sentiment that was one that seemed to be shared, as several faces contorted. ¡®True. Curious.¡¯ the First Bow said, with a defiant sureness ¡®Climbed, Looked.¡¯ he pointed up toward the central keep, the highest point in the castle, and in the entire capital. The First Bow himself was known for his unbelievable ability to enhance his senses. ¡®Saw, from here.¡¯ The assembly of valors all bore the shock of that particular revelation. It was as the First Flail had said, such a being would be unstoppable, more than likely, so it would need to be some kind of trick. ¡®Pray for peace¡¯ Kirru, the youngest of the valors here assembled added, after a dreadful silence. ¡®Prepare for war¡¯ Mauvawen finished. Chapter Five - The Whore of Wymbol Ward Shaasha pressed her back into her bed mate, his body was warm, his hands gentle, his arms while not strong, weren¡¯t without their charms, his smell though caused her nose to crinkle. She counted the moments, her disgust building, fighting internally to maintain restraint, she would never let it never be said that they didn¡¯t get what they payed for. Time came, but she screamed in her head that it could have come sooner. Rising she turned to him. ¡®Sorry to say it Tyber, but times up.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re not sorry.¡¯ he wore a frown, his expression resigned. ¡®No point in paying for the lies honey, if you¡¯re going to call me a liar.¡¯ a honeyed smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. It was a struggle ¡®You know, when I¡¯m away I always tell myself you just say talk like this to keep people at a distance. I always kinda think maybe, maybe you¡¯ve got feelings...¡¯ ¡®And maybe if you bathed regularly, that hope would be a little less deluded.¡¯ the amber glow of embarrassment blossomed. ¡®Girls like it when people smell good. Trust me.¡¯ His blank expression was one she hoped reflected some kind of revelation, but the last two years carried a lot of weight, Cursing internally she wagered it would not be the last. After a moment he turned and sat his payment on the table, and stood to dress. She pulled on a robe, and collected the small pouch, walked over to a strong box, working the enchantments with practiced ease, placing it inside, and returning with an empty one, to press into his hands. He gave her a look, that bordered on suspicion and disbelief. ¡®I won¡¯t insult you Tyber. Not like that.¡¯ she gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. ¡®That costs extra¡¯ Now the look slid fully into to disbelief. ¡®You charge for that?¡¯ ¡®Now now, a lady doesn¡¯t...well gossip we¡¯ll say.¡¯ He knew better than to test her. He¡¯d tested her the first time, and she frankly couldn¡¯t fault him. She was new to this district, forced out by the gang two wards over. The Lazwak gang, wasn¡¯t open to her terms, and they¡¯d lost a few boys trying to negotiate. Thankfully the madam of this gangs brothel was a reasonable sort, and they¡¯d reached an understanding. Most boys liked a rotation any way, so Shaasha and Madhal had reached an agreement. So long as she payed a license fee, and kept the number of clients she serviced below a monthly threshold, they¡¯d agreed to leave her be. Well, the gang boss kept trying to monopolize her but that wasn¡¯t going to happen. ¡®So uh, bath before next time.¡¯ Donning her most winsome smile, and adding a wink ¡®Maybe I¡¯ll give you a discount.¡¯ that cheered him right up, and would make it more pleasant so she might actually feel that generous next time. Tyber was dumb, but kind for the most part. Strong, and a fierce fighter so she¡¯d been told. Only reason he hadn¡¯t been eaten, least that¡¯s how she made sense of it. She ripped her sheets off the bed, he had that kind of stink that had to be fought or it would sink in. She¡¯d made that mistake twice before. She went into the other room of her apartment and set to washing. With that resolved, she used the moment to think over her to-do list. She supposed she could pay her fee early this month, as she¡¯d managed to avoid any major expenses, her rent as well. The room was smelling better already. Hanging that up, setting down new sheets, she set to getting dressed. Sliding a few hidden blades into their usual placements, putting on her ring with the flash gem, and sliding a fistful of coins into a pouch that she hid just below her bosom. She paused at her door, keys in hand, and took stock. She would probably have enough to use one of the better bath houses, and that filled her with joy. It would be nice after her morning with Tyber. Walking down the hall, descending the stairs she knocked on the door of her landlord, an absolute money goblin by any measure, the squat grump met her with a suspicious expression. ¡®One of your boys break the balcony again?¡¯Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡®No, a more pleasant note.¡¯ and she handed over a few coins. ¡®Early.¡¯ his face transforming ¡®Pleasant indeed. New usual?¡¯ ¡®You know I would if I could.¡¯ ¡®Be on your way then if you¡¯ve no complaints.¡¯ and he slammed the door before waiting for a reply.¡¯ she was sure she could make out the sound of him testing the money, again. She¡¯d been a boarder for three years here, but many of the old timers got very stuck, as they continued to age. She¡¯d heard he was nearly two centuries old. Almost unheard of in this district, as violence was only just contained by the threat of even greater amounts of violence. She headed out into the street, figures moved around her in small packs, giving her a small berth, as she headed down to the Squeaky Shack. A name she¡¯d always found on the nose, but apparently the locals enjoyed the lack of dressing up. Many at least, a few visited her just for that very reason. Something she and Madhal had discussed at length. She saw a few patrons exiting for the morning, running into one of her regulars who seemed to be attempting to avoid attention, Shaasha did her best to avoid allowing him to notice her notice. Some liked to maintain a romantic illusion, others enjoyed the idea of cheating by degrees. Her indigence had made her an extra bit of dosh on occasion. Entering the smell of sex, and a few traces of what she¡¯d hoped weren¡¯t fluids hit like she¡¯d walked through a curtain. Considering the variety among demon kind she¡¯d have to fake her surprise if a few of the more peculiar smells found their way into her room. An pair of excited giggles caught her attention as the Robard twins saw her, and approached for a hug. Shaasha embraced them warmly, the camaraderie was one of the main draws to joining a brothel, but she enjoyed avoiding any contractual obligations to the various Madams she¡¯d encountered, and the Robards had proffered a horror story or two that kept her at bay. She tried her best to remain on friendly terms though. ¡®Lady, you stink like client.¡¯ ¡®Yeah, I was thinking of heading down to Hoagies place to get a good long soak in. You¡¯re welcome to join.¡¯ A confused, then apologetic look bounced betwixt the twins. ¡®Sorry Hon, you must not have heard. A giant guy from Nimbum broke their bath. Hoagies furious but he was saying it would take a week.- ¡®We¡¯re not optimistic¡¯ ¡®-at the very least-¡¯ ¡®Really, he never knows¡¯ ¡®-to fix it-¡¯ ¡®And the Rolly boys down the bend jacked up their price as soon as they heard¡¯ they finished to in unison, emitting small whine each. Shaasha made no attempt to hide her disappointment. ¡®Hoya Ward?¡¯ ¡®They¡¯re having a spat with Ragmar.¡¯ the name caused her to bristle. Ragmar was the local gang boss, and was fair, or at least, followed his own rules, but he was inflexible, and persistent to no end. ¡®So they¡¯re charging a crazy toll in and out. They figure Ragmar will bend eventually if only because they¡¯ve got all the goats.¡¯ ¡®He¡¯s stubborn though.¡¯ The other twin countered. ¡®Well, I¡¯ll go pick Madhals brain, need to give her my fee any way.¡¯ She waved good by, as they went back to doing their own chores. She tapped on the office door. A reply came shortly, and she stepped inside. ¡®Ah, Shaasha, good to see you. Good month has been the word.¡¯ ¡®It has.¡¯ as she doled out all but a couple of coins. ¡®Well indeed.¡¯ ¡®I also, wanted to see if you had any ideas about the bathhouse.¡¯ ¡®A damn shame. I¡¯ve always wanted to get my own set up you know. Offer that extra service¡¯ ¡®And no doubt make it easier on the girls too. Had Tyber over night.¡¯ The aged madam shook her head. ¡®The boy is so thick.¡¯ ¡®Your girls too?¡¯ a genuine warmth filling Shaasha, she really did enjoy the company, and the madam returned an exasperated sigh. ¡®But money I take it?¡¯ ¡®And Ragmar won¡¯t give us the space. I think he likes us having to depend on things.¡¯ ¡®Not a bad move if we¡¯re honest.¡¯ ¡®Yes yes, but still. He¡¯s done good by us so I don¡¯t force the issue.¡¯ Madhal took on a more measured expression. ¡®I¡¯ve been looking for a tub, but I don¡¯t have a place to put it any way. All the rooms here are full as it is. ¡®I could help with that. Even if its on a bring it by, do the thing, then take it away.¡¯ The madams eyes narrowed ¡®You¡¯re not expecting to re-negotiate¡¯ A painful reminder that the madams cordiality was entirely negotiated. ¡®No. Our arrangement is fine, I just want free use when you bring it by.¡¯ Shaasha would have made the attempt if Madhal wasn¡¯t always so blasted guarded. She re adjusted her good will tabulation. ¡®I¡¯ll think it over, have to get the tub and soap any way.¡¯ ¡®Well, you do that. You know where to find me. Hexday, is the one I usually reserve as a day off. For your consideration.¡¯ She departed, and back into the street having waved goodbye to the twins. The best soap shop was on in Hoya any way, so she just scrapped it, and hoped her lye soap and a bucket at home would do the trick. Hexday was only a couple days of days away. She paused, to temper her expectations. No telling what the Good Madam would do anyway.