A/N: Was re-inspired by going to Medieval Times for my good friends 19th birthday. Is that bad? Or rather is the fact that 18-20 year old's were heckling grown men with Monty Python quotes bad?
Wyrd knows.
My travels to Legeolium were nothing remarkable or spectacular, but rather the dry and dusty silence that descended upon the land like a leaden cloak was rather terrible in its silence and finality. I crossed officially into Bercilak-ian ruled lands at the Tutland river, now merely a brook in this baking and cracked land, it looked rather as if plague had descended upon the land, with very few game in the well worn runs and blasted, desolate earth everywhere. The sky was dazzingly bright, not a cloud or wisp in sight for days and the way was rather banal other than the oddly marked environment. It took me two and a half days of riding, and knew the war-machine was perhaps another two days behind me when I finally came to the seat of the unholy powers of our High King. Let it be said that I had never wandered this far in my service to the knights of my youth or to my young lord, and as such had never seen the proud, bustling cities of the haughty men of the north. I had heard stories of course of the clustered, bright, shining and prosperous marketplaces, but nothing of the deeds or actual inhabitants of the land. Let me say that I could die happily and never, ever set foot into a Northern city for as long as I live.
Legeolium was as crowded and bustling as it had been told of in the castles and moors of my homeland, but no one commented on the fuming filth and horrible stench of the streets and beings of the city. The roads were raised cobblestones regularly repaved, and the richer quarters of the city were as clean and whitewashed as any castle, but ye gods the city proper! Running along the oddly pristine roads were troughs full of the most horrifying, liquified and solid wastes from humans, animals and business's alike. I witnessed people emptying pots and jars and bowels and stomachs and anything dirty within reach into these rudimentary drainage systems. The main problem was of course that the Northern cities were sequestered on a plateau and thus, there was no natural incline to empty it of its horrible offal, though I repeatedly thanked Cerunnos, lord of all wilderness and forests that the muck never found its way into actual country or surrounding areas, it would have destroyed all wildlife and left a blasted cursed piece of land eerily similar to the hellish spit of land, Titangel. I jostled and rubbed elbows with all manner of creature ranging from hogs and cattle to pompous overfed noblemen and insane old beggars man and woman alike all offering "services" for only the barest fee or flagon of ale. I left my horse stabled in the wilds beyond the city walls, nobody had settled outside of the high shining walls of this city, and little did I wonder, none of them looked fit to live the rest of the day here, let alone in a setting that did not have a jar of wine and large couch at the ready for them. I had donned hunting gear packed by the ever-watchful Lucan, and had pulled the hood tight and low about my face, leaving all semblance of my pristine arms in the care of a hidden tree root far beyond these people's knowledge. With only a sack of coins and a dagger (never my favoured weapon) I set off to scout and buy information that would give us a much needed leg up on Bercilak. Though the hunting party had spoken of a war council where all rumours of civil disobedience in the south were put to rest, the city seemed poised on the edge of a knife, ready to fight and fall, or simply pick itself up and flee, guards mingling and matching a citizen one to one for every person I saw. This was a city preparing itself for a raid. Or a war.
The castle itself sat on a hill in the back of the city, the castle grounds stretching to three sides of the walls and brandishing its heavy gates and armoured soldiers like wards to evil spirits. I dared not step foot onto the causeway leading to the drawbridge but made several circuits about the street bordering the moat and castle proper, detailing notes and sketches on paper bought from a local art vendor and explaining to suspicious guards of my uncouth upbringing in the barbaric south and my wish to study refined northern architecture, pleasing them to no end and making them pliable to questions without the slightest bit of provocation or gold. The castle itself sat upon uneven and boggy ground, though not even a fraction as bad as Melandra once was, was still soggy and pliable ground that claimed many patrolling guards sabatons with its squelching greed, the walls were reinforced rocks from quarrys near the Wall and the castle regularly housed as many as six to seven hundred guards in its grounds with reinforcements stationed in several barracks around the city. Of the army they spoke nothing of, only shrugging at the heightened security and number of guards, merely remarking that the orders were directly from Bercilak and that these days the old dog was seen worrying the ramparts of his castle late at night, protected and followed by a guard of fifteen heavily armoured guards with the most deadly of all weaponry in the kingdom. I discreetly tried to discern if this was a nightly ritual, but the guards would not budge on this answer, to which I countered with compliments on the fine water quality and depth of the moat. The guards laughed uproariously at my attempt and managed between bouts of laughter that the moat was a stinking ditch, no more than 5 feet deep all around, the quality and colour of the water did the moats and guards job for it, making it so that those tasked with moat watch regularly left to pubs in the wee hours, not at all concerned with evil-doers who would want to even step foot into the depths. Of this and more did I learn in a relatively short time with several guards, all clustered about me, delighted by my accurate drawings and my polite questions, so much so that they all jostled and proclaimed loudly that I should join them at a local pub. Balin, the gruffest and oldest of the company volunteered to walk me to the tavern and meet his bretheren in arms when the time permitted. We kept to the side-streets, him claiming that to be caught at this time of twilight, with a stranger and on duty would mean flaying and two weeks at the least in the dungeons.
"So how many of those men did you fool with that there hoody, lassy?"
I only smiled slyly and shrugged, both hands inside my cloak, made to look as if I only had them in my pockets, but one cradled my dagger, and the other was on a small rag soaked in noxious fumes.
"You are not truly here to look at the glories of my beautiful kingdom are you?"
We never broke stride and progressed slowly down the stinking and cramped quarters hidden behind the nicer quarter, working our way from the castle to the slums.
"I am only a traveler wishing to learn more of this land and what makes it so."
"An awful lot does this traveler wish to know of our king and castle, no?"
I looked up at him past the edge of my hood and saw he stalked forward at my pace, his hands swinging loosely by his sides, though his calm and relaxed demeanour did nothing to relax my hands on their weapons.
"Perhaps so, though what difference could one stranger make in knowing such things as I have learned?"
He shrugged back to me and stole a quick glance, his grizzled and scarred face betraying nothing.
"So said Oidipus at the great city of Thebes, young one."
I laughed lightly though my hands continued to clench yet harder and my body begin to tense. He laid a bear of a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, guiding me now to the right instead of using the wall as our guide and turned us out onto the main concourse, now lit by torches in sconces.
"No need for such clutching at your weapons little one, I understand perfectly what you are doing here."
I stopped in the middle of the cobblestones and tugged my hood back, looking him full in the face for the first time. He stood opposite of me and crossed his arms.
"You wish to kill my king."
I nearly sprang at him, thinking he would do the same, or that floods of guards would come from every opening of the street, but people merely walked and stumbled past, the moon now on the rise and sounds of debauchery and laughter floating on the stanking wind.
"I will do no such thing as to try to stop you, kill you, or alert his highness. I will be honest, I have not much care for what happens to this stinking rats hole of decay and death. However, you would need many men for this task you are planning."
"I have many."
"Thousands?"
"Thousands that shake the very ground and drink the rivers dry wherever it moves."
I stared up at him defiantly and he only smiled crookedly, missing all but his four canine teeth.
"And you? A woman sent to lead a mans army?"
"Trusted by a very powerful, wise and benevolent king, yes."
He suddenly broke eye contact and stared up at the sky, wide-eyed and focused, as if hunting for something in the vaulted planes.
"He does not know, does he?"
My entire body seized, caused my hands to tremble and my vision to double.
"What...what did you-"
"He does not know what you and the lady get up to in the dead of night, what delicious games you play together when she is not nestled in his embrace."
I began backing away, not even aware my legs were carrying me backwards.
"Oh, I will cause you no harm, I am not She. We only communicate through my dark, beautiful dreams in the midst of blackest night."
I turned to run but he clapped a hand on my arm and held me gently, but firmly in place.
"If she has not found your forces, she will. All that will approach the city is a broken husk of the glory you raised. Bloodied, walking skeletons and shades of the brave men you have come to know and love. Turn back, find your brothers and go, never to return here again. I warn you, Ashley of Titangel, she will not again fail where she has before with you."
I swallowed forcefully and tried to mask my shaking. I had nothing to say, could think of nothing with which to retort, because in my minds eye I saw all these things and more. Despair was closing in on my mind and I could feel the choking terror of the nighted depths and horrible cold that Nimue controlled. Just as I was about to turn tail and bolt, I looked to the sky and saw the morning star. Brightly it stood out among the others, paling them in comparison and shaming even the moon with its ruddy tint and beacon like twinkling. I gazed up and up at it, and could see her face there, framed among the sky, crowned in stars and her eyes as bright and blazing as our evenstar. She seemed to speak to me from cosmic gulfs far and vast beyond my comprehension, beyond the angels she swore were my past lives and the very spheres that balanced in delicate harmony and song with the rest of existence. She spoke one word, and with that word, I managed to knee Balin in the stomach, breaking his hypnotic hold on me with his strangely familiar icy eyes and slither out of the city without further incident. It gave me the courage to recover my horse and my arms, to ready myself and stand at the crest of the hill overlooking the city gates, even as I felt the very earth speak to me that my brothers would arrive by morning. I gripped her cross in fevered and shaking hands and beheld the star, the star which I knew to be hers, or perhaps even her, projecting itself as Spencer into this plane. I looked into the very fiery depths that I had come to love in her cool blue eyes and felt more than heard that word.
"Go."
A/N: Feels nice to be back at it, more like a braindump then anything, not so bad when I sit down and force myself to focus. Anyways, work before sunup and an anniversary to be had. Cheers all.