The Warband of Wolves
The Inquisition
A fanfict based off the game:
Mount and Blade: Warband;
and my own fanfict.
By Indogma
Straight into Danger
"Damnation," Roland cursed under his breath as he stared down at the map of the surrounding area. He shook his head weakly "Dammit Henderson."
The plan was not working.
Over the past few weeks, Roland and the Wolves had bummed around the Nordlands, patrolling for sea raiders, or rather what little there where. The Nords themselves were a battle frenzied people and loved fighting, and recently the Nords were in a bout of peace with all of there neighbors, leaving the brave, (and/or foolish) raiders to the Jarl's war parties thus depriving Roland and his Wolves of a fight, leaving them to turn on each other.
Three weeks in, and already six fights had left the blood hot between some members of his Wolves, and many of them were not the trouble makers. Fuses where sort with everyone, but it was some of those who where the closest to him that Roland started to doubt. Ymira and Jeremus were distant with the captain lately, no doubt suspicious of his behavior towards the inquisition. Haydee, thankfully, was his strongest ally in this time, helping with the short tempers and sharing much of Roland's concerns over the rest of the troop. Klethi was Klethi and seemed to be obvious to the whole affair, although that might have been because she was ducking out of the camp at night, and returning by morning just to sleep and eat, but what she was doing no one knew, not even Deshavi. The rest were somewhere in the middle depending on the hour of the day, and Roland retreated to confiding with Haydee all of his worries.
Now, on the turning of the month, Roland stood over the map and grunted aggravated at it all feeling he was cornered. He couldn't go south, not after Henderson "banished" him from Suno, and he dared not go east, where the Inquisition waited. Roland told himself that it would put the plan at risk if he went there.
"We need them to come to us," Roland muttered to himself.
Again he poured over the map, looking for an answer in his question to where could they go.
The tent flap swung open and Haydee walked in with a frown set in her lips. "Mothen and Bates where at is again," she sighed crossly. "The two of them nearly pulled out there weapons in the struggle."
"Everything well?" Roland asked.
Met his gaze with a doubtful look, "It's not getting any better Roland, we need to move and get busy with something. Or else we'll tear each other to shreds if we stay…"
"Where would we go?" Roland asked.
Haydee shrugged, "Out of Nordland would be a start, maybe past the Swadian Plains and then to the Desert—"
"We can't go though Swadia," Roland said shaking his head.
"Then where?" Asked Haydee, her voice stained. "Because last time I recall you refused to consider going up to Vaegirs because the Inquisition was there."
"It will ruin the plan."
"Then damn that plan!" Haydee snapped, glaring at Roland. "Right now, we are all suffering because of this plan of your and Henderson's, Roland. The Wolves are tearing themselves apart while you just sit there and mope?"
"I'm not moping," Roland said defiantly, "I'm trying to figure out our next move."
"Then why are you so worried about following the plan if you are trying to figure out what to do next?" Haydee pined crossly. "Why are trying to figure out a plan that you are so scared of defying?" Roland said nothing; unable to think of an answer that was not a feeble excuse. Haydee spoke again, but her voice was calm and sincere, "What are you worried about, Roland?"
He did not answer at first, unable to think of anything that could dissway her. Then, as if it had dawned on him, he sighed, "I want this to be done…" He turned and began to pace, "I want to be done with this blasted inquisitor, this damned witch hunt and this damned complicated plan! I want it all to go back to the way it was."
He paused, expecting some reply from his second in command, a sharp rebuke or a cold dismissal of his selfish want. But none came. He turned and saw the girl looking at him empathetically.
"Do you remember when you first found me Roland, in the four Kingdom's Wasteland? I wasn't too far off form what you are going through now." Roland went back in his mind, and searched at the image of the young frightened girl, drenched to the bone, shivering in his tent, unsure what to do.
Was he like that?
"It is terrible to know you are being hunted through no fault of your own," Haydee smiled slightly, "I mean, we have always had bandits hunt us, but they fear us, and we can beat them whenever they come." The smile faded, "But this Inquisition is after your kind, Roland, and you have to accept that. You have to understand that they hunt things they do not understand, that they fear."
"Do you fear me?" Roland asked.
"No," she said firmly.
"Then you're not well informed," Roland said moodily.
"I can't say I understand about your past," Haydee admitted shaking her head, before looking her eyes with Roland's, "But like I said, I know understand that fear of looming doom. That feeling that you have to look over your shoulder, even in bed. It's hard, and you never get used to it."
"Then how did you beat it?"
"I had you, Roland." She said plainly. "I had you, I had the Wolves, and I had a place I belonged. I learned how to fight, how to use a sword, and how to wear armor. It helped me feel less unprotected. But," she said suddenly, "It didn't solve the problem in the end."
"And what did?"
"An arrow from my mother's bow into that bastard's heart," Haydee said coldly. "Ever since then, I have been able to rest knowing one less evil man was out in the world."
"So I'm supposed to destroy the inquisition? Burn the down the castle and start a war?"
Haydee shrugged, "I cannot pretend to know what must be done, Roland. What I do know, was once I took that castle, and stood up to that Emir, I felt something I had not felt in years."
"What was that?"
"That I conquered a nightmare I once had, and now I could do anything now that I had beaten that man at his own game. It's a feeling of confidence I had never felt before or since." She paused to look down, "I stayed on with the Wolves because of that." Roland looked at her questioningly. "When my mother asked me to come with her, heaven knows I was tempted to, but when I looked ahead at what she might offer me, I found it rather lacking. We would be starting a rebellion against my uncle, leading troops to fight and taking castles again. But none of them would be the same as my first, Roland."
She gave a small smile, "And now, I am helping you take on a group of witch hunters hell bent on killing you. The problems never remain the same in the Wolves do they?"
Roland chuckled lightly, for the first time in a fortnight, "Yeah. I guess it's the curse of the troop."
"Its not a bad one if it is," Haydee admitted. "But I wouldn't call it a curse. Rather, a feature of us."
"If that's what you see it as, go ahead," Roland remarked.
"Do you feel better?' Haydee asked, seeing the humor returning to her captain's face.
"A bit," he nodded, "Though still concerned."
"As anyone would be," countered Haydee, "But I just hope it helps you get yourself, and us, out of this rut."
"It's a start," Roland said.
Haydee only nodded, feeling she could do no more. "I best get out and check on everything," she said suddenly formal again, "Make sure no one's picking a fight."
Roland nodded, "I'll have a new plan by tomorrow," he said. "Tell the men we are moving out in the morning."
"Where?"
"Be damned if I know," Roland replied wryly, "But it's a way to ensure I have a plan by tomorrow, right?"
"That's one way to do it," Haydee agreed returning the smile.
When she was gone, the captain of the Wolves turned back to the map and looked over towards the land to the east, his eyes focusing on Curcaw. The cause of his troubles, the source of his fears and dreads, all came form that city, and form one lone man.
It all strangely seemed smaller when he thought about it that way.
Morning came slowly in the fall months of Calradia, and the Wolves were up and active just as the sun rose. Eager to be rid of this place, they were making speedy progress to being ready for travel.
Haydee had given the order at dawn, and the troop was nearly ready to leave by the time the sun had passed the horizen. The only tent that was untouched was Roland's. When she had a moment free, she ducked into the tent and saw the Captain peering over the map once again, but looking much better then he did last night.
"Morning," he said calmly looking up and giving her a small smile.
"Are you ready?" She asked. "We're getting ready to head off."
"Mostly," he said straightening up. "Just trying to plan the best route."
"Trying to avoid Curcaw?" Haydee pined.
Roland didn't reply at first, but shook his head. "No, not at all. In fact," he pointed straight at the city, "We are going straight to it."
"What?" Pined Haydee.
Roland paused his trot on the edge of the bridge that would lead them into the main gate of Curcaw. He held his breath over looking the city once more. Before it had been a simple city, a mere dot on a map. Now, he felt a chill come from over him.
From his memories, the city looked nearly the same as he remembered it, apart from a large stone spire surrounded in wooden scaffolding: The inquisition's mark on the city.
His horse waltzed as he held in back for a moment, but once he heard the collection of horses behind him of his troop, he knew what he must to. He turned, towards his Wolves and they all paused to hear their captain.
"C'mon Wolves!" He shouted, putting a grim look. "Onward to Curcaw!"
Haydee no doubt by now spread the word through the troop that they were heading to the city to offer their aid to the Inquisition to spite Henderson. Roland thought, (in the mind set of a sword for hire), after being disowned by the Count, it was plausible for the now bold-less mercenary to offer his services for another employer, and if the employer was someone Hednerson feared, it would be an added bonus. So Roland was hoping the Inquisition would look at this as a way to dig back at the Count who was so vehemently opposed to them.
Breathing in a deep breath, he kicked his horse forward and led his troop into the city.
Getting a meeting with the Fergen was surprisingly easier than Roland thought it would have been. Nox had said he had made an impression, however as soon as the Wolves had settled into an inn, a runner came up to Roland saying he was invited up to the tower to sup with him.
So far the plan was working.
End Notes:
So far, so infrequent, but hopefully this little shorter chapter helps slate any cravings of the fanfict for another period of time.
Again, no promises as to when I will have the next one out. But I can promise you next time, I might have some exciting news to share. (No it is not another fanfict, just fyi.)
Cheers,
Indogma
