Secundus – The Jury
The occurrence happened suddenly. From over the mountains they came with hate in their eyes, bloodlust in their minds, and greed in their hearts. The Vikings attacked the small village and, as had been expected ever since the Iron Legion had sentenced them to it, inflicted a great deal of suffering upon its inhabitants. They took the women and the children to be slaves, but the men were condemned to death, though perhaps living under the barbarians' rule would be a fate worse than that.
Still, not all the villagers had been taken, nor did they all get killed; some of them had managed to escape into the wooded hills that surrounded the area. The frenzy's victims' screams and bloodshed filled the night sky's dreadful atmosphere well into the morrow. When the sun had fully risen from its long slumber, the neighborhood had grown silent.
Bodies were hung from the rooftops, filling the air with a nauseating odor. Stained blood was splattered onto the various buildings' stone and wooden walls. The corpses of cattle and other animals decorated the grassy lawns and fields, causing an influx of vermin and rodents to feast on their rotting flesh. Mountains of burning furniture and clothes were dotted along all the streets, even though there were few. Overall, the scene was unpleasant for all the senses.
However, only one figure looked upon the terrible sight. It was the same figure that had watched as that Lawbringer, Dante, condemned her to this horrific event with those hateful brown eyes; the same woman who had realized that death was cast down upon the villagers. Her thin frame stood on the ridge of a small hill that overlooked the town. She could not help but think of the innocent people whose lives had been unrightfully taken all because their "knight in shining armor" was too selfish to help them.
The Iron Legion dog would die for what he did to her people. But at the sound of a wooden cart and horses, the woman turned on her heel, putting her back to the burning village. There, just a short distance from her, a platoon of Knights marched. There were three Knights on horses and two others on a wooden wagon. Each of them wore the colors green and yellow.
The woman had studied Knights and legions before, learning much from old books and writings that had collected dust in the village's old archives building that had no doubt fallen to the ground in ashes by now. From these burned texts, she had learned that the colors green and yellow were the colors most associated with deserters. Regardless, she was curious as to why a group of presumed deserters were marching through the wild.
When the group of deserter Knights stopped, they seemed to look towards the direction of the great flame that arose from the burning city. Two of the Knights that were atop horses started trotting in the direction towards the woman, leaving one other Knight and the wagon behind. As they came closer and closer, their eyes narrowed on the figure when they noticed her.
"Who are you?" One of the Knights, a man, inquired, his voice raspy and old. His armor was a firm steel, and his helmet covered his whole face, save for a thin slit that allowed him to see out of. He slowed his horse to a halt as he approached the figure.
"I should be asking you." The woman shot back, crossing her arms over her thin body as her brown eyes narrowed at the one speaking.
"We are no one." The other Knight, a woman, spoke up. She pointed to an emblem that rested on her breastplate. "We have gone from war, and we hope to not return; we have no name, no calling. We only have these horses and a will to get away."
"Then I see that we are similar yet different." The woman said, her voice commanding—which was strange for her look. "I run towards war. I must find him that has done this thing to my village, and I must bring him to justice."
"Who is it that you search for?" The male Knight asked.
"A man called Dante of the Iron Legion." She responded quickly, turning her head to look at him. "Do you know of him?"
"Sadly." The man answered, his voice taking a sense of annoyance at the mere mention of the name 'Dante.' "He is known as the coward. I fought beside him for many years, and I was witness to his cowardice. I find it hard that he is the one that had brought a great flame against your town."
"He didn't do so directly." The villager corrected. "But I shall save my tirades for the man himself. Do you know where he resides?"
"I would presume him to be near one of the few Iron Legion strongholds." The Knight said. "Surely you do not expect yourself to get your revenge against him as you are now?"
"Of course not, but this must be done." She retorted as she closed her eyes, imagining all the ways that she might enact her revenge against this Iron Legion dog.
"I like you." The female Knight piped in. "Come, we will teach you the way of the Warden, and then you may get your vengeance."
"Perhaps." The woman opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder towards the village before turning back towards the Knights. "It's not like I have much to return to."
"What is your name?" She asked, raising a brow behind her steel helmet.
"I have a past name, but that name is from days gone by; I no longer respond to it. From now on, I am but a wolf wandering, seeking its prey."
The campgrounds were small and compact, consisting of only three tents and one meager campfire. Still, it was good enough for what the deserters needed it for. After all, they were only staying there for a few days until they could feasibly leave Ashfeld without the Iron Legion's knowledge.
The woman's eyes narrowed on the campsite as she jumped from the back of the wooden, horse drawn wagon. It sat in a clearing in a forest that rested in the southwest corner of Ashfeld. On the far side of the space, a small pen with a few horses grazing sat, and another wagon was resting just next to that, being filled with many different pieces of equipment, armor, and weaponry.
The man and woman that the stranger had spoken to earlier in the day, who were called Silas and Marion respectively, approached her from behind. The male Knight's eyes narrowed on the camp after he crossed his arms and let out a hefty sigh, and the other Knight walked further into the camp towards one of the larger tents.
"This is just a small camp." Silas mentioned, his voice still gravelly from behind his helmet. However, he took it off shortly thereafter and held it in his right hand. "We head out to the Chiron Stronghold on the morrow."
The woman looked at the camp for a few more seconds before turning her head to look at him. She raised a brown eyebrow as she studied the man's face. It was wrinkled and grey, being composed of age and experience. A bushy grey beard rested on his sharp jaw, and it fell to almost the base of his neck. Brown eyes were narrow and filled with a wisdom unknown to her.
"Chiron Stronghold?" She asked. Of all the strongholds that she had read about in the old archives, she had never heard of the Chiron Stronghold.
"It's an old fortress that belonged to a faction of old that had been wiped from the face of the earth to my knowledge." Silas explained. "It was built into the side of Mount Ignis. Not many men know it's there; after all, who would dare risk their life for a supposed fairytale?"
"Interesting." The stranger responded, turning her head to look back at the small camp from her companion. Silas turned his head to look behind him when he heard soft footsteps on the wet grass.
"Silas, he wants to speak to your friend." Marion, the female Warden that the woman had met just hours ago, spoke as she walked towards them two. She gestured to a tent larger than any of the others.
"I would have thought so." Silas sighed as he turned from Marion back to the stranger. "You should get a move on."
Silas motioned for her to go to the large tent that Marion had gone to just moments before. The stranger raised an eyebrow but complied. As she walked through the central area of the campsite towards the shelter, she could feel eyes fall upon her. She could feel the distrust and paranoia stir within the group. These men and women certainly had trust issues, and perhaps they had this cynicism for good reason.
As the woman entered through the cloth-covered entrance of the large tent, a musty warmth hit her, causing her to shrivel her nose. Inside the thin walls, a lone goatskin bed sat filled with straw and occupied by a single person. This person, a man, donned the armor of a Lawbringer. The armor itself was built of dirtied silver
The Lawbringer moved his gaze from his hands to the woman. Resting off to his side, the man wore no helmet, revealing much of his face. Strangely, it looked young and strong, which was unlike what the woman would have expected whatever that was. The man stood to his full height, rising to almost half a foot above his guest.
"Who are you?" The Lawbringer spoke, his voice, deep and strong, was low and quiet as to not attract unwanted attention. His brown eyes scrutinized the woman that stood before him.
"I am a woman with nothing to return to." She whispered, taking a step further into the tent to look around its interior. "I am a woman that seeks no more than vengeance against those who had wronged me."
"And why do you come to me with this?" He responded as he crossed his arms, causing the metal plates of his arms' armor to scrape against each other.
"One of your men told me of your story—the story of how you run." She said, her eyes resting back on the balding man. "Yet I know that you seek revenge, and it is at that want, that desire, that need, where our paths cross."
The Lawbringer raised an eyebrow and looked down at her, clenching his jaw before finally speaking: "You say that I want, or need, revenge. However, I have yet to tell you of anything about me or my desires. How do you make this conclusion?"
"I can see it in your eyes." The stranger responded, her own brown eyes seemingly piercing the man's. "I have a philosophy. A philosophy that there are only two people in this world: sheep and wolves. And I believe you to be that of the latter."
"I see." The man replied quietly, his mind wondering what she meant by that. "Where have you been taught? From my understanding, you are only a village girl from the unforgiving wilderness."
"I taught myself." She retorted. "One does not need to learn from scholars to understand others and their innerworkings."
"Of course." The Lawbringer said, offering a sarcastic apology. "What is it that you want from me?"
"I told you." The woman held. "It's the same thing that you want—vengeance. I seek an Iron Legion dog called Dante. I was told by one of your men that you know where he is."
"I do." He answered. "He lives in the Chiron Stronghold near Mount Ignis. Still, why do you seek me if you have already gathered this information?"
"I need you to take me there." She said firmly. The response instantly drew a grunt of shock from the Lawbringer.
"What?" He said with surprise. "I'd be hanged if I went anywhere near there. No, it might even be worse than a hanging. I'm not doing this."
"Then train me, and I shall do it myself." She retorted with determination. There was nothing that could stop her from getting her revenge. She would die before she let her chance at it slip away.
"It is not my position to train you." The man responded in a half-sigh. "There is more to being a Lawbringer than just knowing the poleaxe. Hell, there's more to being a Knight of any rank than just knowing a blade. You must have honor and valor, and you have yet to demonstrate those qualities to me."
"Perhaps these outdated ideals are worth more than I once thought." The woman said through her teeth, lying to the man who stood before her. It was true. She did not think that honor or valor were worth anything more than words. Still, if it meant that she would need to "learn" these things to get to her damned enemy, then so be it.
"Talk to Silas." The Lawbringer stated as he motioned his guest to a slightly smaller tent across the grounds. "Perhaps he may speak to you about the sword if it is what you truly want."
The woman bowed slightly and stepped out of the tent, leaving the man alone in the cloth structure. What am I doing involving myself back in the world of legions? He thought. I left that life behind me; yet, it somehow continues to follow. Oh, Dante, what is it that you have done this time?
I meant for this one to get out last week, but it was delayed (obviously). Anyway, better late than never, right?