The stars continue to burn as destiny is rewritten… See the first installment for all disclaimers/warnings.
Running into the Knights
"I can't understand why we have to go through Brass Castle just to get to Vinay de Zexay. Can't we just go around?"
"That would take too much time," Sergeant Jordi replied, looking over his shoulder at the complaining Karayan maiden. "Sure, we could try walking all the way around the fort, but it's faster to just pass through."
Aila huffed, crossing her arms, and looked away even while reluctantly following the Duck Clan warrior toward the walled town's gates. She understood he was right, of course: they'd reach their destination sooner if they cut through the Zexen fortress. That didn't mean she had to like it.
They stepped onto the cobblestone bridge that led up to the entrance. Aila glanced over the side and frowned. The ironheads had built this mess of stone and brick to cross the bluffs and winding river beneath them -- to prove their 'dominance' over natural barriers.
(And just who toiled for months to create this monstrosity? Why, prisoners of war and captured slaves, of course! Like the oh-so-noble ironheads could be bothered putting their own hands to use making something they planned to exploit…)
Her grimace deepened as her gaze traveled up the towering stone structure looming before them. It seemed to be in Zexen nature to abuse and ignore the earth's resources, cutting themselves off from nature whenever possible.
(I bet they're not even grateful for the air they breathe, save for the fact that it's free and they don't have to waste their precious potch on it…)
The sergeant glanced back at the glowering girl and shook his head. He really hoped she wasn't going to stay in such a difficult mood during the whole mission; he was likely to have enough problems dealing with the Council without a cranky teenager along for the ride.
"Come on," he prompted, "Let's get moving."
"Fine," Aila nodded swiftly.
The gates were raised to admit free travel, and Sergeant Jordi and Aila passed underneath them and into the courtyard without a hitch. Brass Castle had a somewhat unusual layout in that the village within its walls was essentially split into two sections. The fort that comprised the bulk of the compound bisected it: it was impossible to get from one side of the town to the other without walking through the heavily fortified center.
The side of town they were currently on boasted a blacksmith hawking his trade, an armorer showing off his wares, and a merchant selling healing items and other knickknacks well suited for travelers. None of this was of particular interest to the messengers, since both had thought to have their weapons sharpened a bit and gathered some medicine before leaving Karaya Village.
Aila stayed close to the sergeant's back and looked around at the townspeople warily. There were a few young ironheads running around, playing a game remarkably similar to the games of tag and catch she remembered from her own childhood. She also noticed a young girl in pigtails wasn't playing with the others, off by herself and banging on a barrel instead. She slowed down for a moment, staring at this odd sight, but quickly noticed that her companion was striding ahead and hurried to catch up.
Sergeant Jordi walked stiffly and swiftly, focusing only on the set of doors leading to the interior of the fortress. Though he wouldn't admit it to Aila for fear of justifying her rotten attitude, the mallard mercenary disliked Brass Castle as well. He found the split city far too confining for his tastes, its high walls blocking the cool, fragrant breezes that swept over the Grassland valleys and fields.
Reaching the massive double doors, Sergeant Jordi quickly ensured that Aila was with him. The archer was standing directly behind him, so he pushed open the gates and led her inside the main bulk of the fortress.
If the atmosphere in the city had been suppressed, inside the building it was positively stifled. Racks of weapons lined the hallway, and heavily armored soldiers made their rounds, disappearing up stairs and through thick wooden doors that barred entrance to any outsiders.
It was clear from the looks the two messengers were getting that they were clearly considered outsiders. Several of the soldiers stared openly at the pair, then turned and exchanged whispers with their fellow Zexens. A few sneered slurs underneath their breath, pointing and snickering.
Under most circumstances, this sort of behavior would be considered horrendously rude, and the sergeant would have immediately pointed this out, teaching the offenders a little respect if necessary. However, things weren't that simple in Brass Castle. The mere fact that they were Grasslanders in Zexen territory was considered justification enough for the natives to treat them differently.
The mallard narrowed his pale violet eyes in silent disapproval, tightening his grip on his halberd's shaft, but made no move to correct their crass behavior. Ironic and backwards as it was, if he tried to point out the error of their nasty treatment, he would be the one considered to be out of line.
Behind him, Aila struggled to follow the mallard's example and ignore the stares and whispered scorn of the ironheads. Unfortunately, being far less experienced with dealing with 'Zexen hospitality' towards their Grasslander guests, not to mention her own bias against the so-called civilized savages, she was having an understandably harder time controlling her urge to educate the crude onlookers.
As they walked by a pair of soldiers standing guard at one of the side doors, he curled his lips up and openly leered at the teenager. His companion very conspicuously leaned over and whispered something into his ear, and both chuckled at whatever he'd said. Feeling her eye twitch slightly, Aila stiffened her posture even more, keeping her cold gaze locked on the doors on the other side of the hallway.
"Ignore them, Aila," Sergeant Jordi hissed under his breath, barely loud enough for the insulted archer to hear.
The mallard quickened his pace just a fraction, not enough that the dull-witted ironheads would be able to pick up on their added haste, but enough that they might pass through the accursed hallway a little quicker. The sooner they reached the other half of the divided town, the better.
"Hey, barbarian, wait up!" called out one of the soldiers, pushing off of the wall he had been leaning against and sauntering after the pair with an exaggerated swagger to his step.
Aila's fingers, already balled into fists, pressed harder against the inside of her palm. She didn't stop walking; in fact, she was in danger of treading on the back of the mallard's feet.
The sergeant, seeing the chances for them getting out of the fort without incident rapidly dwindling down to nil, started running some quick calculations: Would running be an option? How long would it take to knock out any soldiers that got in the way -- without hurting them too badly? Could he keep Aila from doing anything stupid that would completely sabotage their mission?
A gauntlet grasped Aila's shoulder. Her skin crawled with the loathsome contact. The Karayan archer closed her eyes tightly and tried to ignore the abject nausea washing over her as the ironhead's stale, repugnant breath washed over her ear.
"Pay attention, savage," he purred. "If you want to pass through here, you have to pay a toll…"
"Excuse me…"
Jordi attempted to step between them, but the guard's partner was faster, shoving Jordi back as he blocked him off from the pair.
"Keep moving," he instructed, teeth flashing white beneath the shadows of his helmet.
Narrowing his eyes, Jordi stood his ground, surreptitiously gripping the shaft of his battleaxe a little tighter and shifting his weight.
The first soldier's hand was straying down too far for either Grasslander's comfort, slipping down along her back. Aila gritted her teeth together, fighting back the urge to rip the offending limb from its socket.
Then he leaned in, hissing into her ear again, and red flashed before her eyes as sheer outrage overrode her senses.
The imposing gates swung open, and a young man dressed in the simple orange and yellow garb of a Zexen squire entered the fortress, four horses ambling along behind him. The quartet of riders was hardly paying attention to their familiar surroundings: they had been here often enough that they recalled the layout of the fortress expertly. They were more interested in continuing their conversation.
All four riders were clad in the flawless white-silver armor and gold-trimmed robes of the most famous unit of the Zexen army: the six Knights of Zexen. The fact that two of their elite number were absent didn't have any effect on their noble bearing.
The rider in the front of the group, a porcelain-skinned woman with intricately braided silver hair, sat high and proud atop her snow-white steed. Though she looked to be at full attention, her violet eyes were averted from the path, fixed instead on the rider to her immediate left. His armor was almost completely concealed by the dark purple jacket he wore, and a dark scarlet scarf was wrapped around his thick neck.
"A messenger from the Great Hollow is expected to arrive here shortly," he informed her quietly, speaking just loud enough that the other riders would be able to hear him over the clacking of horseshoes against stones.
"They'd better not keep us waiting for too long," snorted the other, younger blond man on the female knights' opposite side. "After the Council had us rush over here…"
"Perhaps you should be paying more attention to what's going on around us," interjected the last rider, a lilac-haired, stone-faced man with slim, pointed ears.
"Huh?" The other three knights looked back at the rear rider, and the younger blond asked, "What are you talking…"
An enraged female scream, followed quickly by a surprised curse and other voices raising in anger, drew their full attention to the conflict unfolding several feet away. A Karayan girl was grappling with two of their soldiers, trying to wrench her wrist away from a guard so she could take another swipe with her knife. Another soldier was attempting to intervene, but was being blocked off by a member of the Duck Clan.
"Let go of me!" the girl shrilled, feet scrabbling for purchase on the stone floor.
"Damned savage! I'll teach you to--"
"What exactly is going on here?" Chris demanded, riding forward.
"Ah, Lady Chris!" The soldier facing off with the drake snapped off a hasty salute before explaining, "This barbarian attacked Armand, and--"
"He threatened me!" screeched the girl. "He said -- he said--"
"Aila, calm down!" the duck ordered sharply, before turning to face Chris. "My lady, we were passing through when these two accosted my companion without reason…"
"You were acting suspicious," the other guard sneered. "We were merely going to ask for…"
"He said he'd only let us through if I had sex with him!"
"Lying bitch!" shouted Armand, raising his other arm to strike her.
"That's enough!" Glaring down at all of them, Chris ordered, "Armand, let go of her. And you, sheathe your weapon at once."
Both soldier and girl looked ready to protest; however, Armand grudgingly released Aila's wrist after a moment, and she stepped back, the instinct to put as much distance between them warring with her pride. The drake moved to her side, positioning himself protectively between her and the soldiers. Only after that did the girl sheathe her dagger, hand hovering over the handle in case she needed to draw it again.
"Roland, escort these Grasslanders to their destination," Chris added tersely. As the elf nodded and murmured his compliance, she added, "Louis, perhaps you should take our horses to the stables. Salome, Borus and I need to discuss Armand and Edoward's behavior…"
"Hey, you're not going to believe these sa--"
"In private," Chris stressed, shooting the protecting Edoward a sharp look.
Though she didn't glance around, it was clear her harsh tone was directed to the people who had stopped to watch the confrontation as well. As they dispersed, she dismounted and handed her reins to her squire, Borus and Salome following her example. Roland turned his horse around, fixing the pair of Grasslanders with a disdainful gaze.
"Shall we go?" he prompted mildly.
Nodding, the drake gently took Aila's uninjured arm and led her towards the other gate, only to have the girl wrench her arm free and stomp ahead. Sighing, he shook his head and followed, Roland staying close behind him.
"…The girl seems to be a handful," he noted quietly once they were through the gates, entering the western half of the town.
"…She can be," Jordi confessed under his breath. Shaking his head, he added ruefully, "Still, I should have been paying more attention…"
"Yes, you should have."
Sergeant Jordi peered up at the elf then, narrowing his eyes. He'd been expecting some sort of chastisement, but it still stung his pride a little to hear it, especially given the circumstances.
"You should be keeping a better eye on your men as well…"
"Sir Armand and Sir Edoward are not under my command," Roland replied tersely. "Their punishment will be decided by their superior; rest assured that Lady Chris will see that they receive what their actions warrant. You should be more concerned with controlling your companion…"
"…….."
Jordi felt his feathers ruffle a little, involuntarily. This knight might have been a bit better than his comrades by comparison, but his dismissive, disdainful tone and superior attitude certainly weren't earning him much respect. He wasn't even bothering to look down at the mallard as he addressed him, pale eyes fixed on their destination.
"These are Zexen lands, and you would do well to remember that. Whatever laws you Grasslanders follow don't apply here. If you plan on accomplishing anything here, you have to learn the proper way to conduct yourself…"
"…Starting by forgetting things like common courtesy, right?" hissed the drake under his breath.
That earned him a disdainful glance, but Jordi was able to ignore this a little easier, bolstered by his harsh remark. Childish as it probably seemed to the knight, the insult helped a little, even if it seemed too close to the truth to be comforting on anything but a shallow level.
Aila reached the gates well before them, not stopping in her indignant march until she was well onto the bridge, well past the guards. Then she turned around, folded her arms over her chest, and glared at Roland, green eyes fairly glowing with defiance.
"…How much do you get paid for this, anyway?" she asked as they drew closer. When Roland didn't rise to the bait, she added in a hiss, "Must be a lot if you're willing to turn your back on everything that matters to your kind…"
"……" Still the elf failed to respond, merely tugging up on the reins to make his mount stop moving forward. He didn't look down at her, not even to glare or regard her haughtily, as she expected… instead he glanced expectantly toward the sergeant.
"…Let's go, Aila," Jordi finally instructed, walking past her. If Roland was expecting him to reprimand the girl for her harsh words, he would be sorely disappointed. If he felt it necessary, he would discuss it with her later, in private… but the knight wasn't about to get any sort of apology out of either Grasslander.
…Not that he seemed to care. Without so much as a word of farewell, Roland turned his steed around and headed back into the fortress, making his way toward the stables so he could rejoin his companions.