So I've been working on C5 like a madman, not realizing I never posted C4... heh. Whoops.
Anyways, this and Chapter 5 will both be uploaded tonight.
After a day of travel, the ship set down at the foot of Vostok Mountain smoothly and lightly, as if it was landing on eggs. Lord Gheleon was the first to meet the two.
"Lady Skorri. Lady Ema. Welcome and welcome back. If you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving now." The Hunter summoned his Sparrow and rode off.
"Lord Gheleon," Skorri explained, by way of introduction. "C'mon. Radegast is waiting. And it's a hell of a climb to the top."
She was right. As they climbed, the air became colder, and a savage storm had deposited tons of snow on top of the pathway. The two waded through knee-high flakes as they climbed; had it not been for their Ghosts, they'd have frozen.
Skorri looked towards the horizon briefly, before cursing. "Storm's brewing up. We should get moving."
The two reached a large set of stone stairs, freshly cleared. Radegast and four other Lords, were waiting for them at the top. They stood in a slight semi-circle at the top of the stairwell.
"So, this is the one you spoke of," one said. They were clad in golden armor, with the same wolf-and-tree motif that all the Lords seemed to have on the breastplate, the pauldrons, gauntlets, and shinguards, in white finery. Skorri nodded.
"She wants to join."
"Why do you join us?" Radegast asked. His armor was a dark-grey to black, but gold highlighted the fine details of his armor. They shone in the early morning light. A wolf-and-tree motif covered the front plate and both shin guards, and two wolves adorned the pauldrons. It looked like more of a fortress than Citan's armor, but somehow, it also looked warmer, as if the gates were wide open instead of barred shut. A long sword rode his left hip.
"To help. My village died to a Warlord," Ema responded. She left out that she would've joined regardless. It sounded better. They probably wouldn't accept her otherwise.
"What do you hope to gain by joining us?" the Titan boomed.
"Answers."
Radegast might've been smiling as he said the words, "All you must do now is prove yourself."
"How?"
"A noble deed."
Skorri spoke up. "She's done that already. She died multiple times to try and save her village. Went so far as to say she should've RTL'ed herself to save them. No dishonorable individual would show such dedication."
"You trust her?"
Skorri nodded again. "With my life."
"Then kneel, Ema Talahashi." Lord Radegast drew the sword from his hip with a long rasping sound. Ema hesitated, then knelt.
'Skorri trusts them. I should too.' Yet, she still didn't.
The sword touched one shoulder, then the other, then hovered just above her head like the sword of Damocles.
"Rise, Lady Ema of the Iron Lords."
She did so. Radegast looked down towards her as he sheathed the sword.
"Lord Saladin will start on your armor right away," the Titan said, motioning to the other Titan clad in radiant gold and white. They nodded and motioned for her to follow them.
The group split apart and went their seperate ways. Ema, after a moment's hesitation, followed Saladin to a room filled with fire and blacksmithing utensils.
"I'll need measurements to get started," the Titan ordered. Ema spread her arms as they took a tape measure, speaking as they did so.
"I heard that you come from near Citan. I'm surprised you survived."
Ema said nothing. Images of Magn, of Wavie, of Ceros facedown in red mud flashed through her mind. She went rigid.
Saladin shook his head, running his measuring cloth from one arm to the other. "You remember them, don't you?"
"I…"
"You remember every soul you lost. I know. I do too." Saladin turned to look her in the eye. "Every loss should make your bite harsher, Wolf. Otherwise they died for nothing."
There was a pause as Saladin continued to measure. The only sound was the crackle of the fires.
"I don't deserve this," Ema muttered, after a while. "I failed everyone I tried to defend."
"The fact that you say you don't deserve Lordship means you'll make a good Lord," Saladin countered, running a cloth measure around one ankle. "There is a reason we are called Iron Lords. Lordship, like anything else, rusts. We must continue to do noble deeds to keep ourselves shining. Iron, like our fight, blunts after many lost battles. We need to make those losses mean something- make them the whetstones upon which we sharpen our axes and swords, and the words with which we swear our oaths."
Saladin removed the cloth. "You're free to go. I'll send for you when your armor is ready."
Ema nodded, half-bowed, and left, stepping out into the blizzard that had hit Vostok. Someone stood twenty feet away, yet they were a vague shape at best. She dropped a hand to her pistol.
"Lady Ema!" they shouted over the breeze, struggling through the snow. "Follow me!"
The figure turned and led her towards a doorway that had previously gone unnoticed. Once the two were inside, the other removed their helmet, revealing brown hair and tanned, almost shiny skin. Her nose was indescribably normal, Ema thought.
"Lady Ema. I'm Perun. I'll be running you through basic weapons training," she said. "We do, in fact, have standards, despite what some would say."
"You're more official than Skorri made me believe," Ema responded.
"She's probably the most carefree out of all of us," Perun explained. "So, normally, we'd have an Iron Banner for training, but we're currently in a blizzard, which complicates things. So I'm going to be teaching you how to shoot straight. Grab a rifle."
Ema turned to see three rifles; one, with a longer barrel and the trigger in front of the magazine, one with a shorter barrel but the same trigger-magazine setup, and one with the magazine a fair bit forwards of the trigger and grip.
"Scout rifle, pulse rifle, auto rifle," Perun said, pointing to the three in order. "With dynamic barrel tilt and weighted stocks for ease of aim and recoil control. Take one and aim down the sight."
As Ema did so, Perun continued. "Dynamic barrel tilt will adjust the barrel to a trajectory that matches the distance to your target, so if you just keep the target in your sights, you'll hit them." The Iron Lady began looking over her aim and gave a slow whistle.
"You've done this before," she muttered. "Get your finger off the trigger. The slightest shock..."
A tendril of Arc jolted Ema's arm. Her finger squeezed down on the trigger and one round fired, cracking the concrete of the wall.
"And that happens," Perun finished.
"Point made." Ema removed her finger from the trigger.
"Alright. All we need to do now is wait for the snow to blow over, so we can host a proper Iron Banner." Perun leaned back against the wall. "Have you had a meal recently?"
"I ate yesterday."
"That's twenty-four hours ago, darling. C'mon. Gheleon should be cooking tonight, which means it's gonna be good."
"Gheleon left earlier today. When Skorri and I arrived."
"And why do you think he did that? He's a hunter. He catches his prey, kills it, and cooks it fresh. No better meal than something fresh." Perun opened the door to the armory. The cold air hit harder than any punch.
She closed it again after half a second. "On second thought, let's not do that just yet. Do you have a radio?"
Ema shook her head.
"Here." The older Lady tossed a small earpiece with a long, curved metal band reaching down towards her mouth. "Headset hardlinked to our comms network. Your armor should contain the passwords for our uplinks." Perun dusted off her hands. "Now let's head out. Follow me. And put on your helmet- I don't want to rez you out here."
Ema wordlessly nodded and tugged on her helmet, over the headset. It was a tight fit. She was wrestling with it as the door opened and a cold snap hit the room. It slipped into the helmet, making Ema seal the gear as quickly as she could. The discomfort of the headset was nothing compared to the sheer hell of negative twenty degrees Celsius.
The pair trudged through the knee-deep snow towards the Great Hall. Ema's hand rested on her pistol. Behind every tree was an imagined enemy; every rock, a phantom danger. She remained hypervigilant until the Hall doors opened and the two waded inside.
The Great Hall was taller than it was long. Tables were arranged in a circle around the center. At the center, a roaring hearth had an animal on a spit, slowly being turned. Every once in a while, a Lord would check the animal.
The hearth brought back memories of Cabine. Her house burning down; the town hall wreathed in flames. Every life she had fought to defend from sickness and physical harm, undone so quickly you could fall asleep and miss the entire event.
She quickly looked away.
Perun led her towards a table about halfway down the hall, where two other Lords sat. One of them was Skorri. The other had bulky armor with large shoulder pauldrons, and dulled red hair. As the two got closer, Ema noticed that dark makeup outlined her eyes. Kohl, she thought. Why would she use kohl?
"Ah, Ema!" Skorri greeted. Ema waved shyly.
"So this is our new Lord?" the unknown one asked. Perun nodded, taking off her helmet.
"Lady Ema, meet Lady Jolder. Our resident duelist and makeup magician," Perun said.
"Pleased to meet you," Jolder greeted, holding out one hand. Ema took it and paled as Jolder latched on like a vise and shook vigorously. When she (finally) released the bag of powder that had formerly held the bones of her hand, Ema held it by the wrist.
"Too hard?" Jolder smirked. "Sorry."
"You're not sorry. You're not sorry at all," Skorri accused. Jolder turned to her, looking insulted.
"My pride! You wound me!"
"Not as badly as you wounded Ema," Skorri countered. "You okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine," Ema responded.
"Another?" Jolder asked. If Ema had been blind, she would have felt the smirk.
"No," she quickly responded. Jolder laughed.
"C'mon. Food is being served soon. As I told Ema, Gheleon, Tarre, and Fiss are the cooks tonight," Perun told the three. "Should I get you three plates?"
"Yes, please. Ema hasn't been properly hazed yet," Jolder chuckled. Perun nodded and turned on her heel. A brief flash of light bounced off her armor as she turned.
"So," Jolder asked. "How's Felwinter Peak treating you?"
Ema opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Skorri. "Wait, let me guess. You're cold and overwhelmed, and want to sleep."
"Yes, yes, no," Ema answered. "What- rather, how cold is it outside?"
"Fairly warm for winter. Zero, maybe negative one celsius?" Skorri responded.
"I think so," Jolder nodded. Ema shivered at the thought of that being warm for winter.
Perun returned at that moment. "Food is being served in five," she explained, sitting down. "Plenty of time for orientation. Well, basic orientation, at least."
"Great. You know where the stairs down are. Door to the left is to the sleeping quarters. Right is the armory and weapons range. This room doubles as the living area, and the door in front is the kitchen proper. One floor up is a meeting and command room." Skorri spoke quickly. "Felwinter has his quarters up there, as well. So does Radegast. If you want a tutorial on fighting with your Light, I'd recommend Felwinter. He can do it far better than I."
"I'd recommend Lord Timur, if you want to know how to better harness your Light," Jolder added. "Old man can be insufferable, but he is a good teacher."
"I'll meet him later," Ema said. "Both of them."
"Please do."
"Across the bridge to the west is the Iron Temple proper, with data stores on each and every Lord, and I think that's it," Skorri finished.
"Oh, hey," Jolder interrupted, pointing towards the middle of the room. "Food is ready ahead of schedule."
As she spoke, Gheleon took a knife and a serving fork to the beast on the spit, which had been quickly removed and placed on a waiting table. Pieces fell away onto plates as he disassembled the pig with an expert's precision. It was impressive to watch.
"I'll grab the food," Perun offered, getting up once more. Jolder caught her wrist and pulled her back down.
"Let me," the red-haired Titan countered. Perun knew better than to argue and let her go.
She returned with four plates, each with a helping of pork, expertly balancing two on each hand. They were passed out to the group, as were several mugs of Ema-didn't-know-what. It glowed blue-green and smelled of strong alcohol.
"A toast!" someone called.
"A song!" someone else called in response. "Skorri!"
Several Guardians raised their drinks in agreement. One shouted over the din of the hall, "Aye, Skorri! You're up!"
Skorri smiled and stood up, taking up a small guitar-looking instrument. It had a round body and was significantly shorter, about the size of Skorri's arm, with strings running along the body. The eventual creator of the Iron Song strummed and the hall fell silent.
(A/N: Song is a modified version of "Here's a Health to the Company", sung by The Longest Johns specifically)
"Kind friends and companions," she began, waving a hand over towards the three Iron Ladies she had been sitting with as she stepped up onto a table. "Come join me in rhyme. Come lift up your voices, in chorus with mine."
The tone of the song was quiet, even mournful. "Come lift up your voices, all grief to refrain; for we may or might never all meet here again."
The entire hall joined in this time. "Here's a health to the company, and one to my lass. Let us drink and be merry, all out of one glass. Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain; for we may or might never all meet here again!"
The song returned to just Skorri singing. "Here's a health to the dear lad, that I love so well. For style and for beauty, none can excel. There's a smile on his countenance, as I sat on his knee. There's no lass in this wide world, as happy as me-oooohh!"
Near the end of that line, everyone joined in once more. Their voices rose in a pleasant cacophony. "Here's a health to the company, and one to my lass! Let us drink and be merry, all out of one glass. Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain; for we may or might never all meet here again!"
The volume dropped low once more, to the voice a mother would use to sing her child to sleep. "Our ship lies at anchor, she's ready to dock. I wish her safe landing, without any shock. If ever I should meet her, by land or by sea- I will always remember, your kindness to me!"
Her voice rose again, along with everyone else. Ema joined in this time. "So here's a health to the company, and one to my lass! Let us drink and be merry, all out of one glass! Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain- for we may or might never all meet here again!"
Jolder leaned over just after the swell of voices had died down. "That's what we always sing at dinners. Some of us say it was the Iron Song's inspiration. Personally, I think it's just a nice way to remember."
"Why grieve the lost when we can drink to their memory?" Perun added. "Don't sully their memory by remembering that they died. Honor them by celebrating they lived!"