Twin doors carved from Yew and banded with Grey Iron were pushed open with a great groan of metal before Roland who then entered the room ahead. For generations, the White Hall, which was named for the exquisite pillars of Whitewood which lined up along the chambers, had served as the seat of power for his family within the Bannorn. A great hearth burned at the center of the chamber with several tables and chairs around it and near the end of the hall was the throne where the Bann awaited him.
'You summoned me, my lord?' called Roland who respectfully bowed to his father, Bann Beltane who was dressed in expensive clothing which was quite commonly worn among the nobility and he quietly feasted on a meal of duck and wine. The resemblance between the two of them was minor at best for he did not have his father's strong, patrician features and there were some who said that that Roland resembled more of his mother, a woman he barely knew about.
'I have' replied the old man who hardly registered Roland's presence and he raised up a goblet close to his lips. 'I simply wish to remind you of the importance of this task and what is at stake'.
'Of course my lord' dutifully replied Roland with a courtly bow. 'Find the Cousland boy and bring him back, dead or alive'.
'Excellent' quietly said the Bann as he took a sip of his wine and continued after setting the goblet down on the table. 'Succeed in this and our House will be greatly rewarded for the elimination of the traitors.'
'Such is the fate of those who conspire against the crown' bowed Roland who remembered the "official story" that was now being told across the Bannorn and the rest of Ferelden.
After the attack on Highever, word was being spread about how the Cousland family was plotting treason against the King in favor of the Orlesians. Words which had more than a little help getting about thanks to those under Bann Beltane and others who had much to gain when the Arl of Amaranthine officially became the new Teryn of Highever. Unfortunately, there were those who would not so easily believe such a story and if it was found out what really happened in Highever then there would be nothing that would stop King Cailan from delivering justice upon the Arl and his co-conspirators, especially those who had a direct helping hand in the attack.
Roland was certain that Arl Howe already had plans for the eldest of the Cousland scions who was now marching with a large contingent of soldiers towards Ostagar to join the muster but the younger was proving far more elusive. All their plots and ambitions would come crashing down if young Aedan Cousland could testify against them for it was heavily reliant on having no one to tell another story. Fortunately, Roland had contacts within the Bannorn who had been shadowing the young lord and his rather powerful companion who had unexpectedly slain many of Arl Howe's knights during the assault on Highever.
It was good thing that Bann Beltane and those other Banns working with Arl Howe had pooled their resources together and had called in their own favors from across the Bannorns to assist in their search. Despite this treacherous alliance, it was of great importance that Roland or those under Bann Beltane be the ones to personally deal with Cousland for in doing so, they would gain the lion's share of Arl How's favor. There was also something else, something of the utmost personal importance to Roland if he succeeded in this task for his father.
'And remember' added the Bann who then looked Roland in the eye and fixed him with a look of deep purpose. 'If you succeed in this, I will officially recognize you as my son, and you will become the heir of our House.'
'I would be deeply honored, father' bowed Roland who tried to hide the smile which spread across his lips.
'By Smednir's Hammer…' whispered Cranneg Kargunson in disbelief as he spoke the oath in Khazalid while holding up the small golden Ancestor Icon which glinted under the morning sun.
'There was another Dawi here' said Vanyra as she too could hardly believe her find. The two dwarfs remained outside of the damaged inn where the caravan had stopped and several casks of ale were now being unloaded from one of the wagons.
'Looks to be of Kadrin craftsmanship' observed the Runesmith as he studied the small disc which bore the face of Grimnir, Ancestor God of battle.
'Could a Slayer have been here?' asked Vanyra for it was a common practice for members of the Grim Brotherhood to carry and wear many pieces of jewelry on them such as rings, bracelets, piercings, chains and the Engineer had once even heard of a Slayer who had replaced his teeth with ones made entirely out of Gromril.
'I would not rule out such a possibility' shrugged Cranneg who said the words with more than a bit of familiarity on the topic for among the many things which Slayers were notorious for was how they often drunk taverns out of business and started brawls which caused ludicrous amounts of property damage.
'We should ask the manling innkeeper' announced the Engineer and the Master Runesmith quietly nodded before following her to the front of the inn where a portly human man was haggling with a dwarf merchant. The human caught sight of both Vanyra and Cranneg and his eyes widened with suprise
'Hmph, more dwarfs' grumbled the innkeeper with thinly concealed disdain. 'The last one of you lot who was here caused a real mess of my inn! Destroyed most of my tables, two doors, the floor of a guestroom, left craters in the wall, killed more than a dozen sellswords and drank most of my stores!'
'Keep up that tone manling and you can add broken teeth to that list' coldly replied Cranneg who switched to the Common Tongue of this world and his Runestaff suddenly blazed with arcane fire which caused the colour to drain from the innkeepers face.
'I uhh well-' fearfully stammered the human as sweat began to bead upon his forehead and the merchant he had been haggling with had wisely chosen to remain silent.
'Enough manling' interjected Cranneg whose voice made it clear that he was not in a patient mood. 'I need you to describe this other dwarf who was here earlier.'
'He was tall' quickly replied the Innkeeper. 'Well, tall for a dwarf you see with plate armour like yours ser and he wore a helmet with dragon wings and scale armour covering the bottom;. Vanyra's eyes widened at this description and she looked to Cranneg who had a similar reaction to this information.
'What weapons did he carry manling?' demanded the Runesmith. 'Was it a burning axe and a hammer that was wreathed in lightning? Did he have a red beard that was decorated with golden jewelry?'
'Yes! Yes!' nervously replied the human and Cranneg gave the human a hard look before turning his gaze away and back to Vanyra.
'I can't believe it but Haakon Valnirsson has been here' quietly said the Runesmith who switched back to Khazalid.
'Are you sure?' replied Vanyra who had first met the Karak Kadrin Thane many years ago while studying Engineering in Zhufbar when her late brother, Thori had still been adventuring with Cranneg's warband. Their group had been in the area, returning from the Empire at the time and it was who wanted to pay her a visit.
'Sure as stone' confidently nodded the Runesmith who then looked to the small icon again.
'I still might be able to find their tracks and pick up a trail' announced the Engineer who then began to study the churned up muddy ground around them.
'What of that daemon we encountered on the road?' reminded the Runesmith.
'I know how to deal with them' answered the Engineer with a confident grin towards the other dwarf, patting a small leather pouch on the side of her belt which contained specialized rounds, courtesy of… a friend from the Order of Sigmar, the Witch Hunters of the Empire.
'You've traveled some strange roads child' commented Cranneg and the Engineer silently continued to survey the ground outside of the inn, ignoring the strange looks from the others of the merchant caravan and after some time, she finally found a heavy boot print that was just about the right size of a Dawi warrior's boot. Carefully studying the print, she found two more sets following the dwarf ones, a pair of lighter tracks belonging to a human, most likely a male in light armour and the other one, she was not quite sure. A large being, in heavy armour by her guess, not like a Chaos Warrior to be sure, but definitely heavier than that of a human knight.
Following the tracks, Vanyra saw that they were heading down the road and travelling on foot with perhaps half a day ahead of them.
'I reckon you found something?' asked the Runesmith.
'Aye I have and I can see where they are heading' answered the Engineer.
'You would do your father and Thori proud' nodded Cranneg with a hint of sadness underneath his calm voice and Vanyra looked back to him. The Runesmith then reached for a small pouch attached to his belt and from it, he produced a matching pair of glowing runestone, the mystical symbols glowed brightly like diamonds under sunlight.
'Take one with you' Cranneg then said and Vanyra reached out for one of the imbued items. 'The glow of the runes will lessen as they get farther and they will brighten when they closer to one another.'
'And I can use it to find you again' stated the Engineer.
'Precisely' nodded the Runesmith.
'Right, I will grab a few things then I will be off' announced Vanyra.
'Ancestors willing child' replied Cranneg who then made the sign of Grungni.
'May his hall be ever open' finished the Engineer before preparing for the journey ahead.
The morning light of the sun blinded Aedan Cousland whose body felt as heavy as a sack of bricks and it was still so very sore from the beating he had taken from the previous night, even after imbibing a health poultice. His ears were assailed by a cacophony of noises, from birds chirping, insects buzzing, the clatter of plate armor from his companions and worst of all, the whistling, that infernal whistling! Almost all morning, Haakon had been whistling some wordless tune which on any other day would be far more tolerable to hear but this was not such a day for the hangover he sported made every moment which he lived, pure agony.
Currently, they were on the way to the lands of one Bann Berengar Ormond, a name Aedan knew of. Although Aedan had never met the Bann, his father had told both Fergus and he, stories about the rebellion against Orlais, of the battles fought under King Maric. During that time, his father had fought alongside many fellow noble lords and ladies against the Orlesians and that Bann Berengar had been a good friend and a proud man who had saved his life a few times and had returned the favor in kind.
A man like Berengar was exactly the sort of person Aedan needed to see for he was confident that with both the Sword and Shield of Highever, he could prove who he was and gain an audience with the Bann. Once that was done, he could procure aid and head south to the Korcari where hopefully, he could find his brother and King Cailan. The thought of getting justice for his family was what kept Aedan going, despite his bedraggled state.
'Come on manling, walk it off!' called Haakon who soon went back to his tune and the nobleman groaned, the idea of pulling out a knife and slitting his own throat suddenly seemed more appealing.
'What is that you are singing?' asked the warrior woman named Karsten who as of yet, had not revealed exactly why she needed their help and he shared Haakon's distrust. Both he and the dwarf had agreed to keep an eye on her but until then, they needed her to lead them to Bann Ormond's lands.
'Tis an old marching song I heard long ago' replied Haakon who still eyed their newest companion with some suspicion but had at the least adopted a more neutral and certainly less hostile demeanor.
'Are there lyrics to it?' asked again Karsten.
'Aye there are' nodded the dwarf.
'Give us a song then dwarf, we still have a long way to go' said the warrior woman.
Haakon then began to think for the moment as they continued their walk, the dwarf seemed deep in thought before finally, he nodded and began clearing his throat. He took the time to do some inhales and exhales exercises while also making some practice sounds with the tone of his voice. Karsten gave the dwarf a look which he guessed was a curious one.
'The song is in Khazalid' explained Haakon with a shrug, 'just trying to find the right words to translate it to your Common.' Giving the dwarf a few more moments, he then seemed to find whatever it was he sought amongst the Common Tongue which the Dwarf insisted was from a land called Albion and the song flowed forth, his deep voice was filled with both pride and strength.
Let no warrior mine now refuse
To march out and claim his dues,
For now he's one of mine to pay
Under the Hills and far away.
Under the Hills and o'er the moor,
To Azul, Gunbad and bright Ungor,
The king commands and we'll obey
Under the Hills and far away.
I shall keep more happy tracks
With gleaming armour and shining axe
That cut and cleave both night and day
Under the hills and far away.
Under the hills and o'er the moor,
To Azul, Gunbad and bright Ungor,
The King commands and we'll obey
Under the Hills and far away.
Courage, lad, 'tis one to a tun,
But we'll stay the fight til it is done
All warriors bold on every day,
Under the Hills and far away.
Under the hills and o'er the moor,
To Azul, Gunbad and bright Ungor,
The King commands and we'll obey
Under the Hills and far away.
'A fine song' commented Karsten.
'Bah, it sounds a lot better in Khazalid let me tell you' shrugged Haakon.
'Regardless, it was pleasant to hear and you have my applause' said the bronze skinned woman.
Despite being clad head to toe in heavy plate armor at the moment, Aedan had been able to get a good look at the woman the previous night. As far as races went, she definitely was neither dwarf nor elf; certainly no human for sure which left him wondering. It was at the tip of his mind, thought the nobleman who remembered his history lessons and the books he would read at his family's library.
He remembered reading about a major war fought in the north, between the Tevinter Imperium and other nations across Thedas against a race of giants from across the sea. Dark tales were abound of vile practices from the giants which he was sure this Karsten was a member of but he could not quite place his finger on the name of them. He had not yet told Haakon about it for he had been more concerned about the agonizing hangover which plagued him.
Another flash of pain coursed through his skull and Aedan bore with it while silently promising to never drink again (not that he actually would). Ah to hell with it, thought the nobleman who kept his mind on putting one foot ahead of the other. They still had a long journey ahead and Maker knew how long it would take for them to get to the lands of Bann Ormond.
Sweeping a dragonbone waraxe towards the face of Gorim, Sereda felt the hard impact as the blade of her weapon crashed against the surface of his shield. He then delivered a quick thrust of his longsword which Sereda deflected with a parry and she leapt back in time to avoid the swing of her Second's shield. Just as they often had, back in Orzammar, Sereda and Gorim sparred, honing their skills as warriors but after years of many such practices, both of them intimately knew the tactics and abilities of the other along with… other skill.
Sweat lathered the brow of the former princess, her armor had been divested and instead, she wore a simple tunic with its sleeves rolled up while Gorim was dressed similarly. The practice was both calming and familiar to the two of them, it helped both of them in knowing if their technique had been getting sloppy and so far, they both knew that they remained as good as they always had been with both remaining equally matched. Twin waraxes continued to clash with sword and shield, sparks flew as a look of concentration was etched on both of their faces.
'As good as ever my lady' commented Gorim with a slight smile.
'And to you as well' grinned Sereda who could see the rising desire in the eyes of her Second, a feeling that was quite mutual. With Gorim's longsword and shield style, he had both an effective defense as well as reach while the princess herself had speed and flexibility. Perhaps afterwards, they would hold a tiebreaker in private, to further test that reach and flexibility.
They sparred not far from the inn, across the muddy road and over the grassy ground. A small group of humans and other dwarves watched their performance, making bets and passing coin amongst one another. When word had been announced that the caravan was to take a rest at the inn, many had been quick to head inside and go for the drinks which they had just delivered and having earlier eyed a cask of Valentan Red which had been brought along with the rest of the goods from Orzammar, Sereda was inclined to join in later.
Continuing to strike, dodge, parry, block, feint and riposte, they carried on until both were satisfied with the day's exercise. When they had finished, they raised their weapons in salute to the gathered crowd, many of whom went back to the inn.
'Care to buy a drink my lady?' asked Gorim who breathed heavily as he sheathed his sword upon his back along with his shield.
'Gladly' replied Sereda with a smile while sheathing her own weapons If there was one upside to being exiled she thought, it was that she could spend more time with Gorim and even engage in some rather simple activities like going out for a drink at a tavern together. As they made their way to the inn, Sereda noticed the familiar, grey cloaked form of Vanyra passing through the crowd with crossbow slung over her right shoulder. Wondering what the Engineer was up to, Sereda called to Dawi who then turned her gaze to the former princess and Gorim.
'Going somewhere?' asked Sereda who quickly noted the many other pieces of equipment which Vanyra carried on herself.
'Aye' nodded Vanyra who spoke in an accented but understandable Common. 'Cranneg and I believe that another of our kind has passed here, and I am going to follow his trail.'
'Another of you Dawi?' interjected Gorim who had been informed about the nature of two foreign dwarves.
'Do you need help?' offered Sereda who felt indebted to the Engineer for helping the former princess in finding her way back to her Second. 'Gorim and I can accompany you.'
'That will not be necessary' replied Vanyra. 'I will be travelling light and I can move faster on my own.'
'But the caravan will not stay here forever' added Sereda. 'How will you find your way back?'
'I have that covered' was the answer of the Engineer who then reached into a leather pouch on the side of her belt and she produced a small glowing runestone.
'I see' said the former princess who did not feel right about letting the Dawi just head out on her own but she was forced to concede to the fact that Sereda herself was not particularly skilled in outdoorsmanship. 'Well good luck and may the Ancestors smile upon on you.'
'Don't worry about me' said the Engineer with nod and she then raised her right arm. Sereda then lifted her left arm and the two dwarves tightly grasped one another's forearm and the gesture was repeated with Gorim. Vanyra lifted the cowl of her cloak and she went off down the road, leaving the both Sereda and Gorim outside of the inn.
'Are you sure that we should let her off like that my lady?' asked Gorim.
'She will be fine' shrugged Sereda who had in the short time she had known Vanyra that the Engineer was more than capable of handling herself. 'How about that drink?' offered the former princess with a sly grin on her face.
'A sparring match like that always works up a thirst' replied her Second who knew rather well where their conversation had been going. 'We might need more than ale to quench it.'
'I am sure we can find something to do about that' answered Sereda who continued to grin.
Resting beneath the shade of a copse of elm trees, Aedan Cousland placed a gloved hand upon the bark of one tree, and he steadied himself as ragged breaths escaped his lips. The day's march had been long and hard, especially for the young nobleman who was still unused to travelling about the countryside, without a steed to carry him around. Looking to his heavily armored companions, both Karsten and Haakon seemed not even the least bit discomforted by their journey, not that he could tell of course because both of them were completely covered by their protective gear but both showed no signs of even slowing down.
'I believe your Charge is in need of respite' noted Karsten towards Haakon who then turned her helmeted head to the nobleman.
'What do you expect from manlings?' shrugged Haakon with a slightly mocking tone which annoyed Aedan who cursed himself for showing even slightest bit of weakness to his companions. The hangover which had plagued him was significantly more bearable now, the copious amounts of alcohol he had drunk last night was mostly out of his body but still he felt terrible.
'Let's just keep on going' said the nobleman who tried to put on a stoic façade.
'No, you are really out of it manling' replied Haakon rather patronizingly. 'Too much to drink does that you know?'
'You drank even way more than I did!' reminded Aedan with annoyance.
'Well I am a Dawi' shrugged the dwarf matter-of-factly. 'Not my fault that your gods, Maker or whatever decided to give you humans such weak guts.'
'Oh don't say anything about guts' groaned Aedan who had more than few nauseas bouts as they travelled and on multiple occasions, he had thought that he was just about ready to lose his last meal.
'Well, you need rest' spoke Haakon with finality who then went towards another nearby tree and he sat underneath the shade of it. Taking a seat as well, Aedan took a simple glass flask, the sort often used by herbalists and he removed the stopper. Taking a swig of the tepid water held within, he immediately felt refreshed as the clear liquid quenched his parched throat.
The foul stench of something burning was soon smelled by the nobleman who glanced to the side and to see what his companions were doing. Karsten had her greatsword placed over her lap while Haakon lifted up his burning axe close to his face, the fires surrounding the weapons ignited the end of a rolled up brown stick that was held between the dwarf's lips, his dragon-winged helmet rested next to him. A thick and heady smell surrounded the dwarf who visibly seemed to relax from the act of smoking.
'What is that?' asked Aedan who crinkled his nose and he did his best to avoid gagging at the smell.
'Tis a cigar, manling' explained the dwarf who blew out thick rings of smoke. 'I bought a case of these from a Tilean merchant back in Kadrin, fine imported tobaccos from the New World of Lustria these ones, and I can tell!'
The dwarf then offered the burning stick to the nobleman who politely declined and he then offered it to their newest companion of who had removed her own helmet and she accepted it. Both of the nobleman's companions began to smoke and the mood seemed to lighten among them. While the two others smoked, Aedan began to once again, brood over recent events, in his mind, he went over the events of what had transpired during the night of the attack on Highever, as it often did these past weeks…
The smell of freshly spilled blood filled the nose of Aedan Cousland, covered in the gore of the two men who had come to murder him in his sleep, he glanced back over his shoulder and he saw the body of Iona. An arrow was embedded in the elven woman's throat and he knew all too well that there was nothing he could do for her now.
'There he is! Get him!' shouted the voice of another armed man clad in leather armor. Instantly pushing away the horror of what had happened, Aedan allowed his warrior's instincts to kick in. He cut down one of his assailants with a well executed slash that tore out his attacker's throat and he bashed another down with his wooden shield. Connobar leapt and knocked another man over, the teeth of Mabari sank into the flesh of his victim's neck.
It was then that for the first time, he saw his mother in full battle gear, wielding a bow with the skill and discipline of a professional soldier. They soon found the bodies of Oriana and Oren, followed by that of Lady Landra, the sight of it birthed a black rage in Aedan's heart. Death followed the nobleman as he fought alongside those soldiers of his House who had survived, along with his mother and faithful Mabari.
At the main hall of their estate, it was there that they had met up with Ser Gilmore and Haakon, the bodies of men wearing the uniforms of Arl Howe's troops littered the stone floor. Gilmore had informed them that Lord Cousland had headed to the servant's entrance, in hopes that Aedan and the rest of the family had used the servant's entrance to escape. Haakon followed them to the kitchen and there, they found the patriarch of their House lying in a pool of his own blood, his rich clothes could not hide the terrible, crippling wound.
They had tried to help Aedan's father up but the pain of the injury was too much and the young lord's mother refused to leave her dying husband's side.
'Then we stay and fight!' announced the dwarf with a grim look in his eye.
'Howe has an army outside of our walls' reminded Aedan's mother who looked at the dwarf as if he was mad.
'We find a good chokepoint, funnel the manlings in and crush them like grobi!' explained the Haakon, his mind seemingly made up.
'Please, whatever happens' wheezed the pained voice of Aedan's father through gritted teeth, his mother cradled her husband in her arms. 'Help my son get to safety; tell Fergus what has happened here!'
'You have my word, manling' nodded the dwarf with solemnity. 'Let it be known that a Dawi's Oath is one as strong as mountain stone.'
Haakon then rose up and headed out of the kitchen, his bloodied weapons held tightly in his grip.
'Where are you going?' asked Aedan and the dwarf glanced back at him with a single look which sent a chill down the nobleman's spine.
'I will kill every foe that tries to break in' coldly replied the dwarf without looking back.
What followed was a night of more bloodshed and carnage. Howe's men had indeed broken through the gates and the few defenders left in service to the Couslands, fought to the last to defend their lord. Peasant-born infantry men wearing Howe uniforms and even fully fledged knights in heavy to massive armor stormed the gate which had been broken down by a battering ram, their numbers were far greater than anything which the defenders could hope to match… all except for the dwarf who stood in their midst.
A deep, thunderous roar escaped the lips of Haakon who flung himself into the mass of Howe troops, fighting like the famed Berserkers of Orzammar or the Ash Warriors who had learned from the dwarves. Men were cut down like wheat before the fury of Haakon Valnirsson, swords, axes and bludgeons of mere iron or steel proved ineffective against the dwarf's enchanted plate armor. To the surprise of Aedan, they survived that first wave of attackers, leaving dozens of Howe's men dead at the main hall, then came the second wave of soldiers which fell upon them.
Just as with the first group, the dwarf led the defense, limbs and heads went flying as skulls were broken by Haakon. Arming himself with the sword and shield of Highever, Aedan fought side by side with Ser Gilmore and the remaining guardsmen, Connobar fighting just as bravely as the rest. The young lord had lost count of how many men he had killed, his family's ancestral sword was soaked in blood and he continued to slay.
The edge of the Cousland Family Sword cleaved the neck a young soldier, a youth barely old enough to shave, Aedan felt the hot spray of gore blossom like a geyser as his foe's head tumbled to the bloody floor, severed from the rest of the body. His blade was thrust into the gut of a lightly armored man and with a single kick, he freed the sword along with a spool of ropey entrails. Rage clouded the young lord's mind as his sword sent more souls to the Maker's side.
During the fighting, his blade became stuck in the chest of one opponent and he opted to pick up a maul dropped by one of Howe's knights. With it, he cracked open heads and shattered bones, his rage further giving him strength. By the time they had finished with the third wave of attackers, it seemed that just maybe, they could actually beat back Howe's men but it was then that a strange charge filled the air.
'Sorcery!' spat the blood smeared form of Haakon whose armor began to glow with an arcane light and in an instant, the air then exploded with elemental fury. Fire, Frost and Lightning began to fill the halls and the very stones around them seemed to violently shake. Brief shouts of terror and pain were heard from those men who had sought to protect Aedan, his eyes were blinded by a flash of light, followed by an intense heat and a heavy impact against his skull.
What had happened after the sorcerous attack was all a haze to the young lord who had been left disoriented and all he knew was what Haakon had told him. The dwarf claimed that he had dragged Aedan back to the kitchen where his father and mother had been and from there, they had taken the servant's entrance. By the time Aedan had regained his senses, they had already put quite some distance between themselves and Highever.
The memory of what had happened within Highever occupied his mind often and on many nights, it caused him to lose sleep. His loss fueled his guilt, driving him to drink and it filled him with self-loathing, anger and a desire for vengeance that could only be satisfied once Arl Rendon Howe was dead. Silently watching as his companions continued to recuperate; Aedan renewed his own personal oath.
Once he knew that his brother was safe, he would avenge their family and make sure that the Howes paid dearly for their treacherous crimes.
The thick smell of wet dog was heavy within the damp air of the kennels beneath the White Hall, and close to the dungeon wing. Mabari hounds barked excitedly within their cages, the loyal beasts knew that they would be let out for the coming hunt. Striding through the dark hall way between the many cages, Roland paid little heed to the other barking hounds which eyed him as he passed.
Not far ahead of him, a pack of Mabari was gathered around old man Haedrik, the Kennel Master who had for many years, faithfully served Bann Beltane. Assisting the Kennel Master was his daughter, Adeline who was one of the best archers in service to the Bann. The hounds obediently remained still as each awaited its turn to be given a fresh coating of Kaddis warpaint and fitted with War Harness Collars.
The Kennel Master was something not many people in the war ridden Bannorn lived to become, an actual old man for his hair which had once been a rich full mane had become fully bald within the last couple years and his bushy beard was of a deep shade of grey. His daughter on the other hand was
'Will the hounds be ready?' coolly asked Roland towards the Kennel Master.
'Eager to go out and stretch their legs milord' grinned the old man as he dipped a stained hand into a clay cup filled with Kaddis.
'You know that I am not a lord, not yet at least' wryly replied Roland with a tone of casual familiarity toward.
'You always were a lord to us' added Adeline with sly wink which her father thankfully did not catch.
'Well, I am sure that after this is over with, the Bann will reward us well' nodded Roland who then left the two to attend to the rest of the hounds.
Quickly leaving the kennels, he re-entered the halls of the Bann's estate and he made his way to the barracks. There were not many guards within the estate for most men would be out on the walls or patrolling the lands, ever watchful of the soldiers in service to the other Banns. Even in times such as this, with the King's call for a muster in the south, the fighting among the Banns would continue but on a smaller, more quiet scale.
The few guardsmen who did remain within the estate gave sharp salutes towards Roland who returned a casual nod to them while passing by. As he neared the barracks, the sound of metal scraping against could be heard and the doorway was left open and within, there remained only a single person. Seated at the edge of a sleeping cot and clad from head to toe in a burgundy colored set of Dragonbone Heavy Plates, an impressively tall and imposing fellow made his own preparations for the coming hunt.
A particularly deadly looking battle axe, also forged from Dragonbone was clenched between the right gauntleted hands of the mercenary warrior simply known as "The Bulwark". In the other gauntleted hand of the giant of a man was a well worn whetstone which sent of a light shower of sparks as it scraped against the edge of the axe blade. Three arcane runes were placed along the haft of that terrible weapon and further enhancing its already potent killing power.
For many years, the mercenary who called himself The Bulwark, had served Bann Beltane and in the numerous small wars which were so common within the Bannorn, the sellsword had attained a truly remarkable number of kills. None knew from where the man came from, save that he was from one of the nations north of Ferelden. Such details mattered little to Bann Beltane who employed The Bulwark as both the headsman when dealing with petty criminals and a champion in the events of trials by combat.
'Are we leaving?' gruffly asked the deep, muffled and restless voice of The Bulwark whose helmet was shaped to resemble the snarling face of a Mabari.
'Very soon' replied Roland in a relaxed manner for if there was anyone whom he could consider a friend, it was the big mercenary for there were certain… "interests" which the two shared, the sort which tended to involve visits to the dungeon, especially after battles with the other Banns. The Bulwark nodded and went back to sharpening his axe, no doubt eager to get back out there. 'You know who we will be going after, don't you?' asked Roland after a few more moments of silence.
'Does it matter?' answered The Bulwark who continued to run the whetstone across the axe blade. 'As long as I get to use my axe and get paid, I don't need to ask questions.'
'Ah the life of mercenary must be such a simple thing' mused Roland with a slight smile.
'Has its ups and downs' replied the sellsword without looking back and Roland nodded, satisfied that the rest of their party would be prepared for the coming hunt. Leaving the mercenary to his own thoughts, Roland stepped out of the barracks, eager to ride out once more and to feel the wind at his back.
There were many places in the Bannorn where the runaway Cousland could run, lords and ladies who would grant refuge to a scion of Highever. Identities of lords and ladies who were all known to Bann Beltane and the other nobles associated with the Howes. Yet, there was much ground to cover for the Bannorn was a large realm and even if the stray Cousland and his companion were travelling on foot, there were many places where one could hide.
Ultimately though, the young lord's destination would be Ostagar for that was where the elder brother would be headed. If all else failed in the pursuit of the younger then they could seek out and eliminate both at once, two birds with one stone as some would say. In the end, Roland was confident that the days of the Couslands were number and that when the time came, the Howes would grow to become one of the ruling families of Ferelden and that the House of Beltane would share in that glory.
The House that was to be his, as was his birthright.
A light fug of smoked tobacco wafted around the head of Haakon as he took one last puff from his Tilean imported cigar before dropping the stick of dried leaves. Slowly getting back up to his feet, he crushed the last burning embers beneath his gromril boots before putting his helmet back on. Giving a slight nod towards bronze skinned woman who offered to guide them through these lands, he then turned his gaze towards Aedan and spoke.
'Enough rest manling, time to get going!' said the Thane.
'Right' replied the human through gritted as he used his hammer to help himself up.
Setting off from beneath the shade of the trees, the party of three continued down the roiad and the giant lead them ever onwards. For hours they travelled beneath the bright sun and open sky, the weather was at least pleasant and it made their journey far more tolerable. Few words passed among them, save for the incessant questions asked by the manling who was just as unfamiliar with the region as Haakon was.
'So how do you know Bann Ormond?' questioned the Aedan towards their guide.
'A recent and profitable employment' answered the muffled voice Karsten who glanced back at the manling. 'I am sure you are well aware of the fighting that often erupts within these lands'.
'And are you currently in the Bann's service?' asked the manling again.
'I am between jobs at the moment' replied the armored giant. 'I keep my contracts simple, my tenures short and my loyalty until I am paid'.
'Sounds simple enough' nodded the manling while Haakon on the other hand, softly snorted in disdain for the Thane was not one to trust those of such fickle allegiance. There had been many a time in the past, such as in the lawless Border Princes, the Republics of Tilea and even once in cursed City of the Damned that Haakon had felt the bitter taste of betrayal from supposed allies. Sufficed to say, the Thane had as much trust for a sellsword as he would for an elf.
'Becoming too involved often leads to an early grave for one of my proffession' Karsten then said.
'And what of the manling and I?' asked Haakon in a neutral tone, a tinge of suspicion could also be heard in his voice. 'Are you seeking some sort of reward for bringing us in?'.
'Of course I am' replied the giant rather casually. 'I know the Bann well enough that he would be quite pleased in finding the ones who have been causing so much trouble for his rivals'.
'And who exactly are after us?' asked Aedan. 'Aside from the Howes that is.'
'Mostly other Banns who have much to gain by being in the good graces of the Arl of Amaranthine.'
A thoughtful look then came over the manling and after a short moment, an expression of sudden realization dawned upon his face.
'Maker's Breath' hissed Aedan. 'The Howes have had previous claim to Highever and now with us out of the way, that bastard Rendon can now add it to his domain'.
'I take it there is more to it manling' said Haakon who genuinely found human politics to be a tiresome affair, especially when it came to dealing with such short lived beings.
'Amaranthine is one of, if not the most important port city in all Fereldan' explained Aedan. 'With Highever under the Howes, almost all of the north will be under his domain and the king would have to make him a Teryn!'
'Sounds like a high rank' gruffly commented Haakon who had never understood why humans needed to use so many different names for their nobility.
'It is' explained Aedan. 'There are only two Terynirs in the country, we Couslands are one and other belongs to Loghain Mac Tir of Gwarain who is also the father of the Queen.'
'So it is a power play then? questioned the Thane.
'It might be more than that' said the manling who now seemed more perturbed. 'I don't know what Howe is planning but to pull this off, while the muster in the south is happening?' It was then that another look came upon the face. 'Do you think Arl Howe had help in all of this?'
'Are we not already aware that there are Banns working with Howe?' reminded Karsten.
'No I mean do you think there is another lord, someone above a Bann who plotted this with Howe' replied Aedan.
'Who then manling?' asked Haakon who was less than thrilled about the possibility of an even more powerful lordling who may have it out for them.
'I don't know' conceded the human. 'This is all just speculation and a baseless one at that'.
'Tis something to worry about' grunted Haakon who remembered the chaotic times when the Empire had been divided for centuries by civil war, when three claimants sought the Throne and Hammer left behind by Sigmar.
'Yet it makes no changes to your situation' added Karsten. 'You will need allies in the coming days and it seems that one of my regular clients may be your best chance at both survival and vengeance'.
'Now that is something I can get behind' announced Haakon. 'After we find Fergus and make sure he is all right, we hunt this Howe manling and his allies and we settle it with grudgement.'
'And I will personally be there to put Howe's head on pike' grimly replied Aedan. There was determined look on the humans' face, a gleam in the eye which Haakon was pleased to see. It was the same look of a grudge being proclaimed, the sort which mobilized a hold into forging a mighty throng.
If there was anything more sacred to the Dawi than honour or wealth then it was a grudge and the act of settling one. And sweetest of grudges were those that could be settled with blood and axe.
Soft clicks followed the steps of Vanyra as she finished working on a new weapon. Having recently studied the schematics of a simple trap which could send out a deadly hail of shrapnel when stepped on, the engineer endeavored to create something better suited for her tastes. Filling a simple clay disc with metal fragments and carefully placing some other mechanical components such as springs within, the dwarf was confident that it would serve as an effective but temporary replacement for Cinderblast Bombs.
Hoping to give a test soon, the Engineer carefully placed the deadly device into her bandolier and she started the process again with another. The Thane's trail was still fresh, there had been very little traffic through these roads and so far, the only other travelers she had seen was a human farmer and his son, driving an ox cart filled with freshly harvested produce. Paying little heed to the manlings, she carried onwards intent on catching up with the other Dawi and his companions.
Eventually coming to a fork on the road, she took a moment to survey the paths ahead. A signpost with four arrows three pointing to the other roads and one back the way she came. Observing the trail of the Thane's party, she quickly determined which path to take.
It was then that Vanyra heard the distant clatter of armoured plates and looking towards one of the paths, she found what was making such noise. Four fully armoured human knights mounted on mighty destriers. The sight of them brought forth recent memories of her travels in the lands of the Empire and Bretonnia.
Fondly remembering those she had travelled with in her journeys, Vanyra especially recalled the two Bretonnians who had been with them since that fateful night in Altdorf. In many ways, the Imperial Capital had been the true beginning of her adventures for it had been the place where many plots had been set in motion. So much had happened in their many quests that undoubtedly, a bond of fellowship had been forged among their odd group, even if it did include flighty elves.
Shaking away the recollection of her travels, she then set herself back to her current task. As the Engineer was about to take a step towards the path taken by the Thane, she wad halted by a voice that called out from the travelling band of humans.
'Ho there traveller!' hollered one knight whose voice was muffled by his helmet and he wave his right hand towards he, which the dwarf mirrored.
The knights drew closer to the dwarf who was confident that these manlings were not looking for a fight and soon she was able to get a better look at their equipment. Unlike the knights of the Empire or Bretonnia who often adorned their helmets with feathers, wings, horns or wore articles of clothing such as tabards or surcoats, these humans seemed rather plainly dressed. Riding upon powerful looking destriers which were barded with steel plates, each of the knights wore cloth kilts which concealed their legs and upon their breastplates were heraldries depicting a flaming sword.
'Have you seen any inns or towns nearby?' asked the knight who had earlier spoken and the human did not even deign to remove his helmet.
'That way' replied Vanyra who pointed her right thumb over the shoulder and towards the path she had just taken.
'Maker's blessing to you' thanked the Knight and his companions offered slight nods before riding off.
Leaving the humans be, Vanyra then went back to her search for the Thane.
Looking over the horizon, Ser Alexian of Gwarain simply saw more of the open lands which made up much of the Bannorn. Having spent more than a week out on the open roads, the party of Templars were looking forward to spending the night with a roof over their heads. The idea of also being able to have hot and fresh food along with ale instead of hard biscuits and nearly frozen water was equally heartening to them all.
Having set off from Kinloch Hold, the Templars were tasked with searching for a Maleficar, a blood mage who had recently escaped. The search for the Apostate had been especially difficult as they had no Phylactery which they could use to track their target.
Alexian could still hardly believe the circumstances behind the escape. Two accomplices, a freshly harrowed mage and more suprisingly a lay sister of the Chantry, had been complicit in the incident. Both had already been arrested and were well on their way to Aonar but of the Maleficar himself, they had not found any trace and Templars feared that the trail may have long gone cold already.
Having faith in the Maker that they would soon find at least some evidence of the renegade's passing, the Templars rode onward, hoping to find the inn and take the time to rest themselves and their steed. They doubted there would be any encounters with Apostates or rogue magicians this day.
Belching in satisfaction, Cranneg Kargunnson set down his emptied tankard of ale upon the wooden surface of the bar, a feeling of warmth spread within his gut. Several newly wrought runestones lay in front of him, each one inert until placed within a proper object. Hardly satisfied with his own work, the Master Runesmith was displeased at the weakness of these runes.
Contemplating on his own runic knowledge and reviewing the many theorems which he had committed to memory since his days as a beardling, the Runesmith mentally made several calculations, devising ways to create newer and more powerful runes.
It was all the sort of work which made any runesmith thirsty and there was nothing better than good old ale to clear the mind and help one think. Calling for another drink, the dwarf order was acknowledged by the innkeeper who still casted a nervous look towards him. Having already decided on avoiding the food lest he also get a side order of manling spit, the runesmith made sure to keep a watchful eye as his drink was poured from the tap.
In his thoughts, he remained somewhat worried about the young Engineer but in his heart, he knew that his fears were misplaced. He had seen it in the eyes of the rinn that she was serious about going after the Thane alone and the determination he saw was the very same which could be found within great champions such his liege, King Kazador. A sense of surety and purpose was carried by the girl, the sort which inspired courage in beardling warriors and pride among the most venerable of Old Guard.
It was a look which Thori Skorrison had once possessed, he thought somewhat sadly for the beardling had been a damn fine Ranger, worthy of Bugman's lads. He had no doubt that there was more to what the young Engineer had told the Runesmith of her journeys, quite possibly, it was the kind of thing worth of a saga. Until the rinn returned, he would maintain his faith in the Engineer's own skills.
When his next order finally came, Cranneg cautiously inspected his drink before handing a few copper coins to the innkeeper. Well, back to rune work thought the dwarf as he drained another mug and concocting more arcane formulas in his head.
Author's Note: The song part is from the novel Grudge Bearer by Gav Thorpe
