I'd like to thank chiefhow for (presumably) being the only person to actually read all six chapters (its all in the review hint'hint). Seeing as she did make some very good points I will try and incorporate them into my story! Meaning Tristan will say less sooo my chapters probably won't get longer (notably the ones with him in it), as he is a quote "man of few words", I figured he might have had a sarcastic side to him... I guess that was only me then! Ha!
Tristan and Galahad sat close to the cold stone of a nearby bluff providing substantial coverage and serving as their camp. From their spot they could see his Norhelen
Castel twisting out of the low clouds.
Dusk rose softly over the land, Tristan's hands lingered over the wildflowers as he meticulously planned out every possibility in his own head before opening the floor to a discussion with Galahad.
"What do you supposed?" questioned Galahad cautiously in a low whisper.
Tristan did not stir, keeping an intent gaze at the small white flowers with dainty dark green foliage.
Galahad rose, stretching his arms out behind him, "If we make a move we should do so soon or have to bear a restless night waiting for the sun to make its round again."
"I," said Tristan slowly, "want to go tonight."
"Excellent! Always looking for a good fight and then some even better women and drink! I'm sure you keep your place well stocked huh?"
Tristan shrugged his shoulders and picked the flower, rubbing it between his fingers until the petals had all fallen into the earth. He silently rose and stared unhappily at the castle. His castle. Damn Arthur. He grinned inwardly at his disregard to their legendary king.
"I don't really know where the entrance is so if you'd be so kind as to start going there..." said Galahad speaking like one would to a five year old; using lots of hand gestures, pointing towards the castle.
"Just follow me please. Keep your tongue in check, and your hands on your sword not on anything else." Replied Tristan as he began the winding descent toward the castle.
"To be certain Tristan! I swear on my mother's grave to you!" replied Galahad cheerfully, quite eager to register a pummeling.
"Your mother is still alive."
"Last time I checked to be sure! She made quite a mess of my shirt! When I came in it was black and when I left it was blue and still is! Remarkable woman."
"That's what Bors said when he visited your mother after you did, and found her in great physical shape, so I will trust that she is still alive from his glowing report." Replied Tristan winking, justly deserving the punch which Galahad delivered to his arm.
As they approached the side door of dark wood, they had quieted down, and Tristan had taken out a large old gold key from a leather band hanging from his neck. The antique key fit easily into the rusty handle and opened with a squeak.
Tristan and Galahad cautiously made their way past the noisy barracks to the throne room. Tristan wiped a hand on the wall leaving his finger prints behind. The white stone had long since been stained gray from smoke.
A number of archways led into the column strewn throne room. They twined through the flanking and darkened columns amidst the noisy arguing of the men occupying said room.
Tristan skillfully grabbed the man who was evidently the leader, holding a sharp blade to his thick neck. Galahad notched and arrow and directed it threateningly toward the remaining two men.
The leader was Crofix, a lord of the North and of Tristan. His tiny black eyes flittered back and forth between each man like a dragonfly moving from perch to perch. The two other men were unknown to either of the knights. One was tall and heavy, he had strawberry red hair and a thick beard controlled in two braids. From under his armored breast plate, a hairy stomach protruded. The second man was yet even taller, 6'5 with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Freckles spotted his clean shaven face and he wore fine robes and leather enforcements on his lean body.
"Speak Lord Crofix. Let me see if your tongue can save you this time." Said Tristan as he pressed the blade harder against his neck causing blood to slowly escape.
Begging for his Lord's mercy, Crofix quickly revealed the titles of his visitors, the first as the Viking leader Das Vernad, and the second as the Knight of Orange of the Netherlands. He also revealed their agendas at Norhelen Castle.
"Das Vernad, that scoundrel! He tricked me! He has had his men here living off the fat of our land. They made me do it! You left me here my lord! Would you have wanted him to kill me? My blood on your hand too."
"No, I would not like to see you dead on his accord, however I have half the mind to do it myself with this very blade. Now what is he doing in my castle? Bloody foreigners." Tristan digressed.
It was then quickly revealed, with little more poking and prodding that Crufix had been building his own army in the absence of their rightful leader's presence. It was to be formed of the Vikings of Das Vernad, and of the mercenaries of the Knight of Orange. In deal, Vernad would take up settlement on the northerly coast, in proximity to the North Sea and Scandinavia of course, and the Knight of Orange could plunder and take what he wishes, granted that the title would be Crufix's. The extent to their campaign however had been undecided which was what the argument was over.
Tristan and Galahad quickly subdued their captives, and Tristan set to the tast of restoring order in his castle, leaving Galahad to deal with the three ring leaders. He found most of his old friends and protégées in the dungeons, which they then replenished with traitors including those in the throne room. The Vikings were simply locked up in their barracks.
Galahad was set up in a room with fresh clothes and food, and set to sleep. Although the late hour, Tristan sat moodily upon his throne, contemplating his situation, finally calling for conference with this Knight of Orange.
This Knight intrigued him. He had been silent the whole time, perhaps meaning he did not even speak English. He had watched him, however Tristan could not figure him out, as he had so prided in himself for such ability.
The Knight was shortly brought up. He was still in the same outfit as before, but his eyes looked sunk in but glared with the same warmth. He was brought to stand ten paces from Tristan and the attendant was dismissed; the door locked.
"Who are you?" began Tristan.
"I am the Knight of Orange."
"Who are you?" repeated Tristan; his intonation lower and relaxed.
"I am named Pietre Como. I lead the mercenaries, a mix of Franks and lone Vandals. We legendarily found work with the Romans, when we once made home in the Germanic lands east of the Rhine. A short two hundred years ago we moved west against boarders with the barbarian invasion and the expansion of the Huns. Of those to move west, we the Franks are the most numerous, we make little effort with the Angles and Saxons. No doubt they are desperate for a home somewhere." Replied Como slowly, watching his English, which was no doubt not his first language, however how he knows it will be gotten into latter.
"My name is Tristan, I am one of King Arthur's knights and I rule this desolate end of this rock (now Scotland). My people, as I am hesitant to call them, are not roman, no they were here long before me. They are the Celts, or at least a pocket of the remaining ones. Enough about me, why are you here?"
"We were paid quite handsomely for our services to Lord Crufix."
"Why are you here?" repeated Tristan amused.
"You are quite wise." said Como chuckling "We have had an agreement if you would call it, with the Viking Das Vernad. We were to, in the fight; take our money and leave, supposedly. The agreement was that we would kill Crufix and what loyal troops he has leaving Vernad as this Lord. In return, we would get or how would you say it, but this would negotiate the safe return of a very valuable asset of ours."
"What do you mean?"
"Mercenaries may kill whomever they are paid to, but we will not kill each other. The values of brotherhood and bonds stand very high."
Tristan had underestimated them. Here he had thought they were just cold killing machines, but they were more similar to himself than he had imagined. They were ruthless killers when they had to be, such as his life bond as a Sarmatian Knight for the Roman Empire, yet they respected each other above all others, the parallels were uncanny.
"You will dine with me to' morrow, when we have both rested properly."
The Knight of Orange was given one of the nicest rooms in the castle, right next to that of the slumbering Sir Galahad.
Tristan himself recoiled to his chambers, thinking and ever thinking.
DunDunDun... what will happen? Who will survive? Who will get kicked off the cliff? Find out when I update next!! Lol. Kicks. I'm going to leave this one like that. It'll be continued of course but the next chapter will be with Dagonet meeting up with Boars to fight the pirates!!! Muahaha. (yes they will meet up! Damn spoiler... grr)