}!{
Another day passed.
Vandal returned to see how the work on his land fared once more. More and more people started turning up, looking to work in exchange for a home to call their own. The workers were given simple huts and tents in the mean time, as the work on the dwellings were nearing completion. Satisfied with all that he'd seen and heard from Boshly's reports, the baron started walking towards his horse to return to the capital.
As he took the reins from one of the stableboys, he heard the sound of riders in the distance. Turning around, he spotted a messenger riding at breakneck speed with an armed escort of two royal cavaliers. The baron stood up straight and tugged at his shirt to even out the wrinkles to make him more presentable, then waited for the envoy to approach. The man's face was red and glazed with perspiration from the high noon sun, his neck was chafed from the little metal rings in his tunic's collar which bit at his skin from the hard ride down the road, and his chest heaved as though he himself ran the miles instead of his horse. His voice rang clear as he announced the reason behind his visit, and the urgency of it.
"Lord Vandal! His Royal Highness, King Dagorad, has requested your presence at the palace!"
"Finally." Vandal huffed, "Care to share what it's about?"
"Beg your pardon, but I'm not at liberty to discuss it, I'm afraid." The messenger replied, "The matter, however, is of great import to the crown."
"Of course it is." The baron said with a nod, "Very well, I shall ride with you back to the palace." He stopped to say his farewells with his second as he climbed onto Alfie's saddle, "Boshly, my good man, take care. And please, should anyone seek shelter and work here, do not turn them away."
The knight smiled at his liege and waved after him as he disappeared behind a cloud of dust kicked up from their mounts.
Vandal rode with the messenger to the capital, taking every shortcut to avoid the busy streets crowded with folk, and arrived rather quickly at their destination. Leaving Alfie with the stablemasters at the barracks located right next to the palace, Vandal followed the messenger through some unfamiliar corridors leading into the king's personal infirmary. There, he found the king and his advisors standing around the medical bench where a badly wounded soldier lay wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. There were other wounded men in the room, though in far worse conditions than him.
"My lord, I came as soon as you asked." Vandal said as he entered the room. He stepped aside as some of the nurses started to leave, their hands grasping the pails filled with red water and crimson rags.
"Ah, Vandal." King Dagorad greeted, beckoning for his champion to come forward. "We were just about finished speaking with this man."
"What happened to him?" Vandal grimaced, pitying the wounded soldier's sorry state. The king and his advisors, including Lord Strauss, pulled him aside to speak a ways from the table to give room for the doctors to work.
"That was Sgt. Kynes, assigned to Fort Steps garrison at the Marnadal Stairs." Lord Strauss informed him, "It lies to the south, which borders Cintra from Nilfgaard and its vassals at Nazair. As of late, they've been faring rather well during the undead incursions, until today..."
"What changed?"
The Lord Protector crossed his arms and his tone grew hard as gravel, "Sgt. Kyne's unit was sent to investigate how far the cessation of the undead threat had come. They attempted to skirt the base of the Amell Mountains, and were set upon by dragons. He claims that the attack was unprovoked, and that the dragons just swooped down and massacred his men. He survived the attack and fled with two other conscripts, returning to the garrison to warn the rest of his battalion. The dragons arrived ahead of them and burned the fortress down to its foundations."
"Oh..." Vandal sighed, "What would you have me do, my lord?"
Dagorad hesitated a bit, but said it anyway. "I find myself reluctant to ask you to aid us in this dilemma so soon after your hard-won success in dealing with the undead threat. However, the times we live in now leave no room for respite. With this mess with the daft fools in my court, and the army being spread too thin in restoring order to my realm, I am forced to rely heavily on you alone to undertake this task."
"I am honored to have earned your trust, oh king." Vandal said gratefully, "But I am not alone. There is the witcher, as well. He will help me."
"Geralt of Rivia left the city some nights before, and his whereabouts are yet to be determined." The king informed him, "It's safe to assume that he simply abandoned the kingdom when opportunity was most convenient, as is the nature of witchers. I do not hold it against him, for his contract was fulfilled, and he had no other reason to stay."
"I beg the king's pardon." Lord Strauss boldly corrected his friend, "But the contract was only half-done. As I recall, officially, Geralt of Rivia was to also deal with the dragon threat as soon as possible."
"And what are you going to do, hm? Send riders after him?" Dagorad asked, "Leave the matter be, Ubrich. There are better things, more important things, to attend to here."
"As His Majesty wishes."
"So, Lord Vandal..." The king turned once more to his champion, "You have proven yourself resourceful. You have brought my kingdom much needed aid in its darkest hour, and for that you have her people's undying gratitude. But still, I ask you to help spare my people from suffering needless deaths. Drive back these wyrms into the abyss that they crawled out of."
"I will, you have my word." Vandal promised, taking his leave right after.
When he left, the Lord Protector gave voice to his concerns regarding Vandal's other allies. While he found some useful people among his ilk, Lord Strauss found it slightly disconcerting that Vandal had his own army of devotees to answer to his every beck and call. To make matters worse, they were sitting right in the middle of the capital. "I fear we might have been too generous."
"What are you talking about?"
"The baron's new friends." He said, "The golden-eyed warriors he brought through our gates."
Dagorad was quick to point out the hypocrisy in that statement, "What would prompt such concern, Ubrich? As I recall, you handpicked a few of them for yourself as of late."
"That's different. These ones I handpicked, I can control." Strauss defended himself, "But the others? Can't say the same."
The king and his advisors exited the halls and watched as the baron started to ride off. Dagorad turned to look at Strauss, "I trust him, you should too."
Lord Strauss responded with an irate grunt, but said little else as he saw that the king did not share his concerns.
Vandal rode back to his home, a little hesitant in step for he was reluctant to inform his lady-paramours of his latest task. The king would wish him to embark on the quest as soon as possible, but Vandal thought that he wouldn't mind at all if he tarried a little bit longer. Along the way, someone saw him coming up the street and heard the whispers of bystanders utter the champion's name. A man in a tattered roughspun tunic and a straw hat emerged to stand in the path of the baron.
Vandal pulled on the reins so Alfie would stop, then addressed the man. "Whoa there! Greetings, my good man. Why do you stand in my path so?"
The man removed his hat and revealed himself to be Lafnar, the old peasant farmer that first greeted Vandal when he arrived at the Continent. As soon as the baron realized this, he did not hesitate to dismount and return the greeting on equal footing. He grasped the old farmer's large calloused hands firmly and grabbed the man by the forearms, "Lafnar? Gods, am I glad to see you!"
The smile on Vandal's face faded as he realized that the farmer was in worse shape than he was before. Like many refugees driven away from their homes and lands by the restless undead, Lafnar lost everything. The blight took his farm, the undead drove him away to the safety of Cintra's stone walls, and now poverty set itself upon the hapless farmer to take away his dignity.
Yet, there was hope in his eyes. The same hope that welled up in many of the eyes that looked upon Vandal in recent times, for he knew that Vandal could help him when others could not. "Oh Vandal...desolate man that I am...I beseech you to have pity on a poor beggar such as I." He was pale, tired from too many sleepless nights. Lafnar had grown gaunt from hunger, and if he had to go for another day without food he would surely die.
Vandal's heart went out for the poor man and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Lafnar, you helped me when I too was desolate, a wanderer with no name and no title. You gave me coin to help me find my way in this world, so now I shall return the favor." He slapped a small pouch filled with gold crowns, numbering 25 in total and pointed to the south. "Beyond the wall lies my land. I have need for experienced hands such as yours. Go speak to a man called Boshly, who is my servant. He will give you shelter and work."
Tears of joy ran down the farmer's aged and weathered face, and he threw his arms around the baron. "Gods bless you, a thousand thanks from the bottom of my old heart!"
Vandal nodded, feeling glad that all was working well for the farmer, then mounted Alfie once more to ride back home. Before he reached the gates of his estate, Vandal stopped by a flower shop to buy some of Sandy's favorite pink roses. Then, he perused some of the wares of a jeweler's stall, picked out a little engraved golden locket that Serah'd had her eye on for some time.
With these gifts in hand he hoped it would soften the blow when he shared the news of his soon departure, and so he returned home.
He saw to Alfie personally, as he always did when arriving home. He set up the trough, removed her saddle, reins, bridle and bit. Then he let her be, turning to enter the house with the flowers and box containing the locket tucked under his arm. When he passed the guardsmen and was greeted by Rikard, Vandal saw a woman and her assistant descend from the stairs. The both wore the robes of nurses, which brought all the worst ideas into the baron's head.
"What's going on here?" He inquired of Rikard.
The steward explained, "The ladies Sandy and Serah requested the aid of a doctor for an examination. They've expressed their fervent desire to discuss the results with you personally. They are both waiting upstairs in your study."
The explanation did little to calm Vandal, and it showed on his face as he ascended the steps past the nurses. He entered the study where the ladies were said to have waited for him.
Sandy was seated comfortably on his chair, cross-legged, and looking ravishing as always. Her beautiful blonde hair had come away into neat little cascades over her bare shoulders. Her brow was furrowed, for she was deep in thought. The hazel orbs in her eyes lit up when they saw him, but uncertainty prevented her from greeting him as she usually did. Serah stood close to the window, arms crossed at her belly as she stared into the cobblestone street below. Her short raven locks blew in the wind and away from her face, which carried the same serious tone as Sandy's.
"So, I've come." Vandal shut the door behind him to give them the privacy they needed, "What's happened?"
Serah uttered a wordless sigh as she turned away from the window. She walked towards the desk and sat against the edge, supporting herself with one hand leaning on its surface and smoothing down her skirt with the other. Her emerald green eyes stared at the floor for a moment, then lifted their gaze to meet his. She just let the news roll off her tongue as it was, without mincing a single word.
"Vandal, I'm with child. We both are."
The baron's eyes widened, hearing her words clearly but not quite letting the meaning of them sink in just yet. His lips felt dry, and so he tucked them in for his tongue to lap at. All he could say was a single word, which expressed volumes upon his reaction. "Oh."
He knew now why they sent for the nurses to check up on them. All those times they spent sleeping together, all would naturally result in one outcome.
"Hooray..." Sandy said humorlessly, managing to smile through her apprehension.
"I...apologize for how this inconveniences you." Serah declared, feeling a little hurt in what she saw in him as callous regard. "We should have taken steps to avoid-"
"What are you talking about?" Vandal said, unable to understand how the two could see this as a bad thing. He realized that his surprise was misinterpreted, and so he endeavored to set the record straight. He beckoned for them to come to him, "Both of you, come here."
The two women exchanged glances, then got up to approach Vandal, who took their hands in his. Those soft and delicate hands contrasted to the rough texture of his own from years of hard living, like little flowers among sand.
Vandal smiled reassuringly at them, "I do not see this as an inconvenience. There is life growing inside of you both, life that I've had the honor of taking part in its conception. I will not reject them, for they are mine. I shall embrace them, and love them as I love both of you."
Serah sighed again, this time from relief, and let herself fall into his chest. Sandy choked up on her tears as she embraced Vandal, and he pulled them in close as his massive arms wrapped around them both. They felt their hearts flutter at the knight's affection, and his unconditional love for them. It was almost too good to be true, almost.
"How lucky we are to have met you." Sandy said as she kissed his cheek, "I shall gladly bear your child. I hope it's a boy, so he can have your name."
"And what if it's a girl?"
"Shhh...they both shall be boys." Serah declared, silencing the knight to prevent him from affecting the results, as folklore would have her believe. "Good strong lads, just like their father."
The three of them left the study, with both women holding on to either arm. The baron handed to them the gifts he bought from the shops on the way home, which they both thoroughly enjoyed. Vandal never forgot why he came home so early, but he decided to let them know about his quest later. In the mean time, he would have them enjoy a day with him before he prepared to embark on the king's task.
One day, that was all he needed.
"Hey, I saw a nice field on the way back. Got some good green grass, cool breeze for an otherwise hot day, perfect place to spend the afternoon." Vandal offered, "What do you ladies say about having our lunch outdoors?"
"Well, I think that's a wonderful idea!" Sandy beamed, "Hold on, just let me fix myself up. Must make presentable company around the baron, after all."
"I second that." Serah said in agreement. "Wait up, we won't be long."
"Very well then, I shall have Rikard make the arrangements." Vandal let them both go so he could have his steward prepare for their afternoon picnic.
The Isles of Skellige
An Skellig
Freja walked into the mead hall along with all the freshly blooded youths that fought alongside her at the battle against the Cidarian castaways, every one of them proudly donning their new armor for all to see. Another feast was thrown, this time in honor of the youths who proved themselves worthy of being called warriors of Clan Tuirseach. Not a single one was slain nor did one fail to gut an outsider, and this was hailed as a good omen.
The patriarch, Jarl Valgroff Tuirseach, welcomed the new warriors with barrels of mead, gilded ornaments whose gold was melted down from pilfered chests of Nilfgaardian galleons, and fine bluesteel weapons to signify their ascension into adulthood and success in completing the rite.
The dragonling was full of wonder, for this was the first time she participated in the banquets held by the islanders of An Skellig. She enjoyed the attention she was getting, much to Bran's relief as the man worried that Freja wouldn't fit in well with crowds. He was aware that his mother, Dame Alessa, was watching as well. They both were to observe if the dragonling would merge seamlessly with their people, rather than revert to her baser instincts and just as quickly turn hostile.
As the festivities dragged on, she proved to be as normal as the islander sitting next to her. Before long, Freja was drinking and swapping stories with her fellow blooded warriors.
"And she felled 'em, one after the other!" One of them chattered excitedly, sharing his own version of Freja's deeds. "The Cidarian dogs ne'er stood a chance 'gainst us!"
"Damned lass wouldn't let up, had to keep on 'ard after her so we could get blooded." Eist griped.
"Well, she was the one with the axe." A shieldmaiden defended Freja, "You'd be expecting her to be in the backline, Eist?"
The young man grumbled in silence as he took another swig of his drinking horn. The others ignored him and pressed for Freja to tell her side of the tale, seeing in her as somewhat of a local celebrity among them after the events of that battle. The attention got her all fired up, and Freja just as eagerly told her story as she saw it. When she talked, it made the islanders' ears turn red with embarrassment, as she spoke with the eloquence of a highborn clanswoman- like the Dame herself.
Later, the jarl stood from his throne and called for the attention of all who were present at his hall. Valgroff, an old man whose every deed of renown was carved into his many scars, clapped his hands together as he looked upon proudly at the youths who did Clan Tuirseach a great honor, especially Bran's ward Freja, who distinguished herself above the rest even over his son Eist.
"The gods have blessed this rite of passage, and saw fit to grant each of you the honor of becoming shield-brothers of Clan Tuirseach!" He beckoned for the housecarls to distribute the bluesteel weapons to each of the blooded youths. He, however, saved the best for last as he called for Freja to come forward. "Come to me, my child."
Freja did not hide her astonishment, but obeyed, and rose up to greet the patriarch.
"You were brought to the fold of the clan after my son saved you from that serpent, and have so proven that you will bring glory to the Tuirseach name." The old man declared, motioning for one of the housecarls to fetch the final gift. "You were said to have fought with the strength of a berserker, and so you shall have a weapon that befits one."
A double-bladed battleaxe, its haft and belly made from sturdy bluesteel and the blade from jagged dragon's teeth, was placed in Freja's waiting hands. The dragon's teeth, each one a foot long and half as wide, were arranged into a sun shaped pattern to create the double-blade, each tooth firmly fixed into the bluesteel shoulder. The freshly treated leather wraps pulled taut noisily as Freja's fingers wrapped around the handle, and she raised the frightening weapon high for all to see.
"Behold, Storm's Teeth!" Valgroff announced. "Crafted from the maw of the very dragon Bran had slain!"
Bran's face contorted with worry, and he flashed a glance towards Freja. It wasn't out of guilt, but out of fear for what she might do if the fact that she was holding an axe made out of her mother's teeth affected her in any way. To his surprise and relief, she showed nothing save for that triumphant grin.
"May all who taste the bite of its blade know death by your hand." Jarl Valgroff said, "Now, off you go lass."
The first person she went to was Bran. For all her quickness in learning the ways of humans, the dragonling still retained much of that childlike nature whenever she was around him. Bran found it strangely warm to his heart, though he was rather slow to accept it.
"Nasty looking thing, isn't it?" She said as she showed him her new weapon.
"Yes." Bran smiled, "I feel pity for whoever's on the receiving end of it. Today was a good day. I'm...proud of you, Freja."
The woman placed the weapon gently against the edge of the table and wrapped her arms around him, holding him up in a powerful bear hug. Others close by stopped to gawk at her strength, as she lifted the man almost twice her size.
"Mind setting me down now?" Bran growled good-naturedly.
Freja laughed heartily and did as he asked, retrieving her weapon on her way back to her friends, but not before planting a small peck on Bran's cheek as she walked away. This, Bran thought nothing of until later, when the burn of her lips could still be felt hot on his cold skin. He dismissed the thought as soon as it popped into his head, then drowned it behind mouthfuls of mead.
Vandal sat upright on the sheet and supported his body on his two arms behind him. The sun had begun its descent once more, and the sunset made the whole sky look beautiful, if one would ignore the foreboding streak of fire slowly burning its way down into the Continent as it tore itself free from the wandering world above.
The baron had no idea when or where it was going to hit, but he knew it would happen soon.
Vandal looked down at the woman resting her head on his lap as she lay down atop the sheet spread over the grass. Sandy left them to go hang around Alfie while the mare grazed in the field nearby. Rikard was at the road close to the glade, with Guardsman Tammen standing watch over their carriage. Serah chose to remain by Vandal, having grown ever closer to her lover with all they've been through. The basket of fruits, breadsticks and wine bottles sat right next to the pair half emptied of their contents, disregarded soon after as the pair partook of something more satisfying than mere food or drink. They've traded stories for all the time they spent in that beautiful glade, using the opportunity to get to know one another better.
Vandal enjoyed doing that more than anything besides serving the king, but as the day neared dusk, he realized he needed to speak the truth as soon as possible. So, when the silence that followed their conversation grew unbearable, Vandal spoke to Serah.
"I'm going away, Serah." He said quietly as he placed the back of his hand next to her soft neck.
Serah looked up at him, all mirth leaving her face as she saw the serious look in his eyes. She twisted about and sat up, "Again? But...you've just returned."
"The king's word is law, I must obey him."
Her gaze fell, her sadness choking her words as she fought to keep her composure. Serah knew that Vandal was different from other men, that he was gifted with powers that assured him of greater longevity, but she just couldn't shake off the instinctive nature that a woman would feel for one she held most dear. And she was angry that some highborn snob was using Vandal as some mongrel pup to solve his every problem, "Why? Why must you do everything that he says? The thousands of kingsmen under his command, and he picks you to do his dirty work."
"Serah, there's a lot more going on in the background than you think." Vandal tried to explain that the king was fighting his own battles in court, all to keep the kingdom from crumbling away overnight. "It's not that he couldn't be bothered with these tasks, it's because that even with all the power that the crown gives him- a king too has limits. He sends me because I can do what he cannot, and I am honored to have earned his trust. Besides, it's the least I can do for all he's given me."
Serah glared into his beautiful golden eyes and bit her lip to keep herself from breaking into sobs. "I don't care about the fucking house! I don't care about the lands, the gold and the pretty dresses!" The woman's hands clenched tightly into fists, "Would I be so content with my lot if you were gone from my life? What good are these things to me, to Sandy, if you're dead?"
Vandal sighed and offered a tender smile to calm the raging Serah. She'd never seen what he could do, healing from his often fatal wounds and cheating death, so it was exceedingly difficult to convince her. "I am touched by your concern, but you have nothing to fear. I will always come back."
Serah remained largely unconvinced, "Yes, as you've said time and again."
"I will continue to say it, because it is true."
"Until it isn't."
"Oh Serah..." Vandal took her hand in his, "Have you so little faith in me?"
The raven-haired woman averted her gaze, finding it difficult to look at him without imagining the worst. "What does the king want you to do?" She insisted on it when she felt him hesitate to tell her, "Tell me. If you are to go on a king's errand, which I very well know that you are set on doing no matter what I say, I wish to know."
Vandal paused for a moment, then reluctantly confessed. "I am to put an end to the dragon attacks to the south."
Serah felt her heart drop, "Dragons now, is it? He expects one man to stop dragons in a fortnight?"
"I won't be alone." Vandal assured her, "I have many friends I can rely on. They will help me, and I will return triumphant, as I have with the undead threat. You will see."
The two turned their gaze to Sandy, who started walking back to join them on the sheet. The golden-tressed woman had no idea what they were just talking about and she inquired about Serah's sudden change in mood. "What's up with the long face, Serah? What's going on with you two?"
"Our brave baron's been tasked by the king to go slay some dragons." Serah stated in a mocking tone, "Better say your farewells, I bet now's the best time as he's fixing to embark on that journey soon."
"Is that true, Vandal?" Sandy asked, shocked at the news. "You've been called to purpose once more? So soon?"
"Yes, and I must obey." Vandal replied, "It is the way."
"For Melitele's sake, Vandal, you're to be a father soon!" Serah kept her stance on the matter stubbornly.
"All the more reason for me to rid the land of this threat." Vandal stated firmly, keeping his voice low and even. "I shall not have my children born on a land frequently beset by dangers at all sides. I lived that life from when I was just a boy. Trust me, I know this better than anyone. I will go on this journey whether you like it or not."
Serah's heard enough, and she got up to fetch the basket and put away the dishes. She stood up and said spitefully, "Then go, but don't expect me to see you off." With that, she walked off to board the carriage waiting at the road with their steward and guardsmen.
"She's got that mind of a mother bear already." Vandal remarked, trying hard to be optimistic.
"Give her time to cool off, then talk it over again." Sandy assured him, "She can't be mad at you forever."
"Well, how about you?" Vandal asked, dreading a similar response. "Aren't you angry at me?"
"No, dearest." Sandy said with a smile, "I'm only sad that you have to leave us, but I'm not mad. I love you, we both do. It's just that Serah doesn't want to lose the only good thing that's been in her life thus far, and neither do I."
Vandal took her face in his hands and kissed her, later resting his forehead against hers as her words renewed his convictions. "I love you too, both of you. Neither of you will ever lose me."
}!{
