AN: Hello folks... Chapter 2 is up! Read, enjoy and review!
Standard disclaimer folks, anything you recognise isn't mine it's either Christopher Paolini's or Bethesda's
Ky111: Thanks for the support buddy... Greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing.
Ryan: I hope this chapter answers your questions about Palancar Valley. Surda doesn't yet exist as a separate monarchy. It will soon... Thanks for the support.
Chapter 2: Beginnings
March 19th, 1901 T.E
Therinsfjord
Both cousins had quickly risen through the ranks, thanks to both their prowess and strong moral fortitude. Very early on in their careers, the cousins had to part ways- Roran preferred to fight with both his feet planted firmly on the ground, with his brothers in arms on either side of him in a shield wall and the solid comforting weight of his warhammer in his hands; Eragon on the other hand, gravitated towards heavy cavalry- he loved the exhilaration of a flat out charge at enemy ranks, the drumming of hundreds of shod hooves filling his ears and the feel of his powerful horse surging forward with every stride underneath him. He would often describe the close bond between a rider and his horse to his cousin, but it would always fall on deaf ears. On foot, Eragon was no slouch either- quick footed, agile and strong, Eragon was a terror with the hand and a half sword that he had crafted for himself.
His unit, the 3rd Squadron of the Xth Cavalry Legion had been recalled to the military headquarters in Therinsfjord... They had arrived from the northern forts just the previous evening. Eragon, as captain, was heading to the Keep to report to the High Constable. The Northern Provinces, as Palancar Valley and the islands of Doru Araeba were together called as, were under the direct rule of the Council of Shru'utugal... It was for all practical purposes an independent state. Palancar Valley was under the Elder Knight Oromis and Glaedr. The pair were amongst the highest ranking members of the ancient order. Dragon Knight Brom and Saphira were one of the four other dragon-rider pair under Oromis and was responsible for the areas of Riverwood, Therinsfjord, Ivarstead and Helgen; basically the territories that bordered the frozen wastelands to the North, the vast impenetrable forests of the Du Weldervarden to the east and the Brodding Kingdom to the south. Other Dragon Knights were responsible for the borderlands of the Spine... Eragon was glad he didn't have to serve anywhere close to those horrid mountains and the Urgal tribes that lived amongst them.
The islands of Doru Araeba were under the rule of the Arch Knight and Dragon themselves- and most of the Elder Knights lived there as well, although a few served as Ambassadors and advisers to the various kingdoms and thus lived in the capital cities of Illirea, Ellesmera and Tronjheim. In 1326 T.E, the Shru'utugal had established a military force to assist the Riders in times of both war and peace. This force was raised in the Northern Provinces and was composed of both men and elves. Each Dragon Knight was given the responsibility of a given territory and tasked with its governance and security. Brom had been governing his patch of land for close to three decades now.
He had finally reached the office of the High Constable and presented himself to the guards outside the double doors- heavy infantry from their uniform and weapons. Eragon could feel the distaste of the guards for him- all because of him being a cavalry trooper. The guard on the left, a pilus prior from the looks of him, unsheathed a dagger strapped to his back and banged on the doors thrice with its hilt, announcing loudly in a gruff voice, "Captain Eragon of the Xth Cavalry seeks an audience, sir!" A clear "Let him in" was heard a moment later. The guards stepped inwards, grasped the handles of the double doors and pulled simultaneously, opening the doors outwards. Eragon nodded to each guard and stepped in, conscious of the way the sound of his steel plate armor changed as the floor beneath him transitioned from sandstone to marble. The room beyond the doors was rather large and seemed even more so because of the furnishings, or lack of... The room was functional, spartan almost... Although Eragon wasn't surprised, Legate Cicero was well known and we'll respected among the men for his unflinching moral stature and incorruptibility.
Eragon marched to stand in front of the Legate desk and smashed his left fist against his chest plate with a loud clang, saluting the senior officer.
The Legate, still sitting behind the desk, pouring over some thick reports waved Eragon towards one of the four chairs and he say down, removing his helm as he did so. The Legate looked the same as last time, close cropped greying hair, sharp nose, grey eyes glinting with intelligence and cunning, clean shaven and physically still in his prime.
"At ease, Captain, " Cicero leaned back in his high-backed chair to look at critically, "you and your men have been on the northern frontier for little over two years now, right?" He waited for Eragon's nod, "I wonder what you have to say about the conditions of the frontier?"
It was quite clear to the young captain that the legate was asking about the present situation of the frontier vis-a-vis the incursions from the north, and not of the comfort of the men.
"The raids were increasing in frequency and complexity before the winter set in... Now, of course winter has put a stop to the raids but I anticipate the raids to resume with a vengeance with the coming of spring, sir."
"Complexity? What do you mean?"
"When we first deployed to Fort Greymoor, a little more than two years ago, raids used to occur sporadically, with the wild men penetrating our territories randomly at any point between Windhelm and Raven's Perch. The cavalry patrols had been organized accordingly and we would often catch them a mile or two inland... Back then, they raiding parties were small groups of savage, indisciplined barbarians armed with crude weapons and absolutely no idea of military tactics. They were little more than bandits and rather easy to deal with, " Eragon let out a breath. "But ever since the last summer solstice, things have changed... The wild men suddenly are more disciplined, they carry serviceable swords, spears they wear armor. They are sending out scouts, they plan attacks and have even attempted to ambush several patrols... The size of their warbands are increasing as well... The last one I intercepted was a hundred strong and one of three similar sized warbands that had intruded simultaneously across our borders. I do not like how things are heading sir, not one bit."
"I've had received reports from the other captains about increased raids, but none of them seem to have noticed this obvious pattern of increasing numbers and 'complexity', " the legate murmured, his brows furrowing.
Eragon muttered, a bit angrily, "that's because no other Squadron has been deployed there as long as mine."
The legate nodded, ignoring the jibe, "what would you suggest we do... if the pattern holds out?"
"The best thing to do would be to build a wall all along the northern frontier, from the Spine to the Elven fortress of Amroth... Short of that, forward deploy more cavalry squadrons for greater coverage. Gods forbid, if any of those warbands break through to the plains, it will be a massacre."
The old warrior nodded sagely and handed Eragon a thick missive, "the transfer documents for you and your unit. You are being posted to Ivarstead. Your mission objectives remain unchanged, you are to patrol and secure the area especially the border with the Brodding Kingdom... You will also be coordinating with the Elven Rangers when you are there, so be on your best behavior. Any questions?"
"No sir."
"Then you are dismissed."
March 20th, 1901 T.E
Somewhere along the road to Ivarstead
He was looking forward to some peace and quiet after months at the forts on the northern frontier- fending off increasingly difficult raids of the outlander territories.. Nobody really knew who ruled up there or even if there was a Kingdom beyond Windhelm, the last great city in the North. None of the expeditionary forces sent North had ever returned and nowadays nobody even tried, the weather was damn near inhospitable as it was. Ivarstead was a small walled town on the border with both the Brodding Kingdom and Du Weldervarden and was a peaceful posting, much sought after by captains.
The journey from Therinsfjord to Ivarstead was of about ninety miles and he had planned for all manner of mishaps and foreseeable problems. His Squadron had forty heavy cavalry, ten cavalry archers and ten hobilars. The cavalry archers and hobilars acted as scouts and messengers and rode ahead of the Squadron in groups of five. They had stocked up on Therinsfjord before setting out on the six day ride... provided the weather remained pleasant. The worst of the snow had already melted and the dozens of rivers and streams were swollen with the fresh meltwater. It was the mid of spring and the land itself seemed to be alive, joyous and celebrating... but appearances were deceiving.. Summer and spring always brought the heaviest raids from the wild men and the Urgals... He didn't envy the units posted along the frontier.
They were riding along the outer skirts of the forest of Du Weldervarden- four riders abreast and thirteen deep with the scouts and hobilars in the center... a very powerful and dense concentration of troops. Ten men were somewhere ahead, scouting for tracks of unusual nature.
Eragon knew that they were in safe territory, far away from the frontier on all sides. In three directions lay their own territories and to the East lay the vast reaches of the Elven Nation. Thus reassured, he allowed himself to relax sightly and enjoy the remainder of the journey... Raids hadn't penetrated into these areas for decades and weren't likely to anytime soon.
He had no idea just how wrong he was about to be proven.
A bit sombre ending... So what do you people think? Hit that Review button and tell me!