The mage effectively had a background role within the confines of a military, though their presence on the battlefield wasn't always one of support. Fire and thunder magic saw its fair share of uses. Whole villages set ablaze due to a simple wave of hands and incantations. Hmm, sounds familiar, doesn't it?
-Jorthac of Edgewhich
Sadera-ALNUS HILL
Almost three thousand dying and injured flooded the Casta's valetudinarium like a sea of carcasses that could not be chartered nor mapped. The injured lay sprawled and writhing on the damp beds they'd been given. Their arms and legs amputated and their bodies wielding strange circular wounds with chunks of armor in them like microscopic daggers.
A few days was all it took for the Hippocrates to be out of medicine and remedy for their wounded patients. All the dying and the need for treatment had led to a nightmare of request after request for supply sent to the capital and nearby kingdoms for anything someone may imagine. Men, mages, and all the healing magic the land might muster.
Some were unable to gain access to the inside and lay in the outside sun letting out soft pleas for assistance. Others had no such markings, yet stared wide-eyed at nothing in particular, their eyes wide and their limbs shaking. Like some alien and strange plane of existence like a layer of hell where clusters of men were sewn together in strange aberrations, a door leading to freedom in view above them but none able to reach.
The more able-bodied recounted to their compatriots about men in strange green tunics and braccas with fire spears that shattered through plate armor as if it were mere leather strappings, and they added to the horror by the mention of metal dragons. Flying higher than any wyvern and spewing fire so hot and destructive that it turned entire armies into ribbons of mutilation and dismemberment. Around the medical wing, observers watched, fear and dread obvious on their dirt-covered faces.
They'd worked twice as fast in the last few days. The bricked wall, the hastily constructed valetudinarium, and the stone-walled half-built headquarters where more than a dozen Kings, Counts, and Dukes had come to give their support out of agreements made hundreds of years ago, or just bide for some good old-fashioned revenge.
The remaining army camped inside and outside the walls, due to be joined soon by a force of several more legions sent by surrounding kingdoms and even some from the capital itself. Most of the kings who'd sought oversight on the campaign had dressed in their respective plate mail and stayed in those same garbs after the dismal offensive.
A building meant originally for barracks was one coming to near complete reestablishment. Unfinished, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The only remaining part that needed fixing was sections of the front wall that'd collapsed into piles. They were to be repaired by slaves and recruits when the council had finished their urgent meeting.
The biggest priority and topic at the moment was simple, yet broad. What in the hells had happened beyond the GATE? for that reason, they'd gathered in the chamber to the only veritable witness left alive.
Sir Hamish was forced on his knees as he was dragged inside, the grips of the guards tightened around his flabby arms. He'd spent the last days in a haze, from makeshift bedding to the medical ward just a couple dozen feet away, and finally here in front of Falmart's most honorable and notorious.
They sat on high chairs above him like judges for souls in an abyssal limbo, the sun cascaded through the windows and the nearly constructed front entrance which sat in a ten-by-ten opening. Easily accessible by a small ogre.
King Duran of Elbe sat center, his calloused palms set upon the table, and his non-patched eye courtesy of an unfortunate stabbing in a battle fought decades ago added well to his hardened mystique. "My l-lords!" Hamish blurted and bowed before them.
Duran waved his turquoise-colored gauntlet, "Rise, we've no time for formality in such a dire situation," said Duran. "Sixty-thousand traveled through the holy GATE two days past to conquer in the name of our glorious Empire, and only ten thousand returned. Explain yourself, so-called knight."
"What in the bloody, bloody, hells?!" interjected Duke Ligu. He'd dressed in emerald and gold, the national colors of the league of principality. "Fifty scores of the men I gifted, destroyed in just half an afternoon!?" he flicked his long brown hair back and gave a demanding look.
"Give the nobleman a chance to make his case," King Rolben of Mudwen proclaimed and regarded Hamish, "good Sir, speak clear and concisely so that we may hear the truth." He was the oldest out of all of them in his late seventeenth decade and wore his long alabaster robes elegantly.
"Are the stories of metal dragons and explosive magic true?" asked another.
"Has Count Formal truly perished?"
"We must form a counterattack-"
"Are you mad? we must destroy this foul GATE. It must be the work of Emroy or Hardy!"
"Do not risk the wrath of the gods!"
The chatter went on and on, Hamish watched them as they bickered and argued amongst themselves. Several times he tried to speak, and in turn, he was cut off or drowned out.
"Enough of this! allow Sir Maio to speak!" Duran shouted and slammed a fist upon the table.
Hamish tugged at his linen shirt and opened and closed his mouth several times before catching his breath.
"We..." and he told them much the same as any other man in the ten-thousand would tell. "It was no battle, but a slaughter. We were confronted with architecture in a city not unlike the capital. When we were met with the local barbarians I...thought an easy victory was in our grasp."
He paused and thought for an instant. An idea formed in his head. He had to bring it back in his favor, "As for..." he breathed, "Count Formal, I saw him die. My boy-Sir Herm...I do not know of his fate. Those still alive and I managed to get away before those things spat their fire-"
"You called for a retreat," Ligu pointed his finger accusatorily.
"With such losses, how could he not?" Duran reasoned, "retreat is not always cowardly. Still, such losses on a catastrophic scale such as this cannot go unblamed... "
Hamish edged between the two possibilities of what he may say next. Sweat pervaded him, round stained circles of it drenching under his armpits and his back. It took everything within to say what came next, "I do not wish to admit it, but the fault of all of this chaos would be my son."
"Huh?!" Each man looked at him questioningly.
Hamish sunk low, "He ordered the men forth you see, there was..." he shook, unable to believe this was coming out of his mouth, "I was wounded early on in the battle as you've guessed by the bandages on my person." He tapped the injury on his belly and grimaced. "While a mage healed me, the boy saw it fit to go ahead and lead an attack without my or Formals say."
"He led the charge without either of yours or Formal's say in the matter?" Duran leaned forward. The good eye squinting.
"Yes..." Hamish looked at them with his eyes glazed. Lying, he was lying about his boy. By the gods, he was going to hells ninth layer. But, it had to be this way. He would certainly be stripped of his knighthood, perhaps even executed for such a colossal failure if all blame was pressed on him. It was the right thing to do. They needed him for what was to come next.
He went on to explain the belligerents. The metal dragons, the men in green who used their fire spears to cut down dozens of men in mere seconds, he was even made to show the scar he'd gotten from the battle. His audience went quieter and quieter as he described eviscerated bodies, gore flooding the streets, and the leaking head of Count Formal before finally escaping into the GATE.
A cold air filled the chamber. Each assessor either held their mouth open or looked on in vague confusion and misunderstanding. Questions followed, "We've bore witness to these fire spears, what do you know of them?"
"They cut through armor!" Hamish raised his voice so that each heard him, "only the ogres massive shields and armor were able to stop its bite, and even then, the metal dragons made short work of them."
"It cuts through plate?" Rolben asked.
"Yes your Highness," Hamish nodded, "leather, scale, and plate were but playthings. There is no doubt in my mind about this thunder stick committing more destruction than the sharpest arrow, bluntest mace, or sharpest spear."
"By the gods..." someone murmured.
"What of Sir Herm?" Duran asked, "you've mentioned only his charging of the enemy and not its result."
"I..." Hamish paused and felt his intestines being churned, "I did not see what happened to him."
"Pah, withering away in a dungeon or grave no doubt," Ligu waved his hand dismissively. "By Hardy, what were you thinking sending him off to train with a bunch of silly women playing knight-"
His voice faded as each of their heads shot towards the exit. Hamish nearly fell back when acting likewise as the two shining bald yellowish heads of two ogres knelt in front of the unfinished wall. They held large shields in one arm and large clubs hung from the sides of their wide belts. The guards had their spears pointed up and backed slowly away.
"What in the?-" Duran and the others started drawing their weapons, "how in Emroy's name did they get inside?!"
But the ogres did not come barging inside trying to devour any poor man within their great grasps. Instead, they took a giant step back and knelt.
"The blame can be attributed to me, King Duran."
Out from the shields of the ogres came a sight for sore eyes. A huge man nearing six feet and a half stepped fro like a living mountain. His blonde hair was like spun gold and he had a scar over his right eye like a lopsided comma. He dressed in long robes that draped over red and black plate armor decorated with golden visages of wyrms and dragons.
The men did not even whisper amongst each other. There was no sound in the council chambers. All watched the man. He regarded them with a bow and then pushed his way forward to the high table, robes flowing in the breeze.
"Your Highness Zorzal?" Duran said with a slight edge to his voice.
He stopped short of them all and turned to Hamish. His broad face was rugged with a plethora of scars like woodworked bark, and his left arm hung queerly at his side. He held the other one out, "Gentlemen, foremost I give you the sincerest apology for my crass lateness in a state of affairs as harrowing as this. I ventured here as soon as I was able as you may all witness by my lack of drawn carriage. I have only just arrived under passage with several legions entailing. Soon shall they arrive."
"Hm..." Duran said and glanced at his audience staring in with massive dark gazes, "I recognize your presence my Lord, but why has the Emperor not shown himself? our message to the capital was specifically sent for him to come and see to this mess."
Zorzal looked at him, his right brow twitching, "Father is currently dressed in other matters that require his full attention. Therefore I've been tasked with representing him in this arduous effort."
"Mess?" Roland stood, "Have you not heard of the power our enemy wields?" his voice cracked. "Why is Molt concerned in other affairs at such a time?!"
He put a hand up, "Settle yourself, your lordship, I understand your anger and frustration but now is not a time for infighting amongst your allies when an enemy is within arms reach."
"Enemy? who do you speak of your Highness?"
"One who does not take abject felonious misdeeds while under the flag of my Empire without notice."
"Felonious?" Duran inquired.
"Yes, why do you think I've asked these gentlemen here to accompany me on this day rather than a squad of praetorians?" he regarded the ogres who bowed and nodded their heads on instinct. None answered him, he continued, "It is by cause of a traitor and fool that stinks up this lovely war room."
Some of them spouted brief murmurs. Ligu watched confusedly. Duran had his elbows on the table and his hands were glued together as if he were praying. "Whom?"
He revolved his head back to Hamish, "Sir Hamish?"
Hamish seized up like he was frozen in ice, "Y-Yes your Highness?!"
"Are you aware of these two gentlemen I have out here?" he nodded toward the ogres.
the old knight turned his head back at the monsters and then to the Prince, "Yes?"
"Then you must be aware of the fact they are the last few surviving members of my precious Oprichinina to have been sent to the new world. With you, Sir Herm, and Count Formal. Fifty went beyond, Only four returned."
Hamish let out a cold breath, "Y-Your Highness I offer my-"
They've spent their last few days camping outside the fort with what little remains of their kind. I'll allow them both their opportunity to be heard, as I know they must have been rather grated to do so given the information they've gifted me and my oprichinina."
There was silence again. The two ogres looked at each other, then at Hamish, one of them shrugged and knelt down and pointed a cow-leg-sized finger at Hamish, "He was what ordered us forth, not the boy."
Hamish would've jumped to his defense had he not been bound by both ankles, "Oh gods! oh gods, lies!" he began pleading feverishly back and forth between the Prince and the kings.
"We seen him orderin' the men and the women what was runnin' to be smashed. He was the one orderin' us to go forward and when we did, he spent most O' the battle in his carriage while we was bein slaughtered!"
A low moan swept through the audience. Hamish begged them, pleaded, his hands clasped together and his face against the ground like he was trying to dig something. "Sirs, my lords, please! that thing, it lies!"
Zorzal swept back in, "Is this what we value in a knight my kings, counts, and dukes?"
"Slit his throat!" called Duke Ligu. "He lies!"
Zorzal continued, "In truth gentlemen, the "knight," before you all is nothing more than a mere coward, fool, and failure. He has not only shamed himself, but his family name which he has thoroughly tarnished through a long streak of military and political blunders."
"Put him in shackles and toss the key to the rubbish!"
Zorzal kept on, "Just a few moments past, I gathered a report from slaves and healing mages whomst resided at the battle's backline. They made a rather credible claim that Sir Hamish was witnessed having congress with a girl no older than a year several times throughout the journey inside the Gate. Yes, Count Oben, that is what I said. One year!"
"Your Highness! your Highness they have lied I have done no such thing!" Hamish was almost in tears by this point.
Zorzal ignored him, "It is an utter shame that Sir Herm was given such a poor family name. Perhaps he may have brought it back towards the light had his Father not left him to the wolves."
"He lies, filicides, and is a hedonist?!"The kings began to rise with Ligu spouting accusations and jeers. The guards tasked with subduing him grasped Hamish by his arms and brought him up only so that they could stab him with daggers. "T-They lie!" he proclaimed, "they lie! they lie!" he repeated it several times.
"Enough! take Sir Hamish away and throw him in the dungeon, he may defend himself in trail back at the capital!" Duran ordered. Some argued of course, but none of them could take any action on their desire for execution. Only the emperor himself had the proper authority to condemn a man of Saderan citizenship and nobility to death without a fair trial.
"No!" Sir Hamish kicked and screamed as he was drug away, "No!" before the council was out of view, he saw Zorzal standing there among all the wrath-stricken kings. Nothing in his eyes, no pity, no remorse.
The council took a small recess to calm the nerves of those suffering from an acute fury towards the knightly coward. Duran stood smoking from a pipe and Ligu had to be stopped several times from setting after the deposed knight with a blade.
The Prince stood away from them with his ogre guard by one of the Casta's walls and surveyed the GATE with arms folded. All able-bodied, slave and soldier alike were digging trenches and building up guard towers like a nesting colony of some undiscovered Hymenoptera.
Seizing the moment, his guard spoke, "Your Highness?"
He looked at the ogre through his visored helm, "Speak Grendel."
"How did yew come by on all that?"
"Pardon?"
"On that ole geezer knight, I neva saw im fiddling with any girl."
"You mean Sir Hamish?"
"Yessir, how'd you know about im?"
"I never met the man in my life, only his boy."
The ogre looked blankly, "Then...when did you come by that information on im fiddlin with a girl?"
"Whom said I did?" He looked back towards the GATE.
The ogres glanced at each other and said nothing more.
The council spent the next few hours on a smattering of differing topics: the GATE, the gods, the undeniable crisis inbound upon the land, and next on the list, the possible destruction of the GATE.
"There is but one simple solution," Roland ran his hands across the red table and clenched his fingers on the soft fabric, "if this enemy we face has the means and weaponry to destroy an entire army from the skies with distances further than any spear or arrow can hope to reach, I see no other option than to destroy the cursed thing." he sat back into his seat, his white beard shining. Some audible agreements sounded from the others, but only some.
Duran fixed his eyepatch and scratched his brow, "A strong sentiment, and one I'm leaning to agree on even so."
"Pah!" Ligu huffed, he shook his head and had a hand curled into a ball at his side, "do not tell me you of all men have given up so easily. We've taken their weaponry, we have one of their own held for integration. If enough time is given, we may easily sweep them back by copying their thunder spears."
He regarded the Prince who sat leaning forward, "Your Highness, you have bore witness to their testing correct?"
Zorzal nodded, "We've held several of them in a vault, however, there it's not as simple as that."
"Your Highness?"
"Not even our finest forge and metal masters made heads or tails of the inner workings of this weapon nor the ammunition."
Ligu paused for a second, "Nothing?"
He put a hand up, "Now that's not to say they could not learn, but this is no simple bow nor crossbow. Of that, I think we are certain. What account have we of this prisoner?"
Roland answered him, "The woman's being held behind a cell with a most loyal and disciplined unit of guards, we thought it wise should emotions get the best of the more...unruly."
"Is she slave, noble, royalty?"
"We...have not a clue."
"Is her language different from our own?"
"Yes, your highness," Ligu said, "the woman babbles with words and phrases foreign and retarded. We're in the process of recruiting a cleric of Wareharun to teach her proper Saderan etiquette."
Zorzal thought for a moment. He held his chin on his knuckles and studied the dirt below them. "Strange, has the cleric wrangled any information out of our prized hen?"
Roland nodded, "Besides two words. Noriko, and Nihon."
"Queer names," Ligu added.
Duran listened to the conversations and brushed his beard with the back of his forearm, he looked at the shaking girl. He'd have almost felt sorry for the poor thing. Her fate was to be either married off or taken as a carnal servant. This was simply the way of things, however, nothing more, nothing less.
"A language barrier, weapons that punch through armor of the highest quality, your Highness do you see my point in destroying the GATE? Even if it has been dubbed holy, the mortal cost is too much for us to bear." Roland emphasized his points by raising his index, middle, and ring fingers.
"Shall we allow the cost to go unpunished?" Ligu leaned out at everybody, "have we forgotten the Artic tribes whom swept so far south that the foul bastards bore down on the capital? and have we refused to remember the battle upon the great tundra province Akuteku where sixty-thousand of our own were slain?"
"I do hope you're producing a point with this," Zorzal remarked.
"My point is the Empire has suffered many a great defeat in her near millennia history. But where are the Arctic tribes now? pushed so far north that they had to flee on boats into the great unknown or risk facing permanent extinction."
Roland's spectacles were getting foggy from sweat, he wiped it away, "And did those same tribes use these thunder sticks? did they use metal dragons and turn ten of our legions into dust within an hour?"
"King Roland speaks the truth!" a count called. Some yelled yay's with him, and some nay's.
"We must send a messenger to Rondel, they have the destructive power to destroy this blight!"
"And risk the revengeance of the gods!?" Ligu shouted over the noise. A hushed silence befell each. Duran fixed his eyepatch. Roland removed his spectacles and rubbed the fog off them. Zorzal held the sides of the table with such a tight grip that he was nearly breaking them off.
Ligu held one arm at his side, the other raised slightly and his palm was open, "Strange magic as these foes may have, they are still men. Man can be defeated no matter what. gods on the other end. Suppose the chaos that would be rung by disavowing their will. This GATE is their will is it not? thereby this war of ours is but an added fragment to their testament."
"He is right..." a marquis murmured. Almost one of those men nodded along or said much the same.
"If it is the god's will..."
"It is! we will slaughter these bastards in green!"
Zorzal stood as Ligu took a moment to drink from a mug, "Gentlemen I believe at this point we must put the matter to a vote." Small bits of paper were passed out to each king, duke, noble, and prince within that station. Their votes would count for only themselves, not double, and not triple.
After an hour-long process, the votes were counted up by a bipartisan duke who abstained from the decision. He came from a land so far west that half his territory bordered on the unknown desert.
They watched him with bated breath go over each. Eventually, the results were tallied up on a long thick slab of paper off which he read the results.
"The GATE stays open!"
Sadera-East of Alnus Hill
They rode on through the rain-soaked concrete road. The air smelt of the natural occurrence, and the wind swept through trees at their sides which themselves were like brushes against a darkened canvas up in the sky.
Hector stared up and watched the clouds, he'd taken to riding at his contubernium's rear so that he may survey the land in peace. He watched the birds, their pretty colors contrasting with the dark sky. He held his pony's reigns with both hands and felt at his hip for his sling. It was there.
He rubbed up under his galea and tilted his head slightly. They'd headed east on a journey to locate any nearby medical or magical folk who may be of service. Alnus had a lot of injured men, but not as many that may treat them.
Ahead was Markus cantering with the others. Some of them sang hymns to pass the time or told stories about honor and justice. They were eight in number, all human, young, especially young.
"Take a left up here boys," called the lines leader Decanus Kurmann. He held up his arm and pointed the direction towards a fork in the concrete.
"How far is the village?" one of the men questioned as they adjusted their mounts accordingly, "we must be going on our fifth hour out here."
"Not far," Kurmann looked back at them all as he said it. His face was angular and cleanly shaven even in the rather pressing conditions. "No complaining either, we've not a moment to lose."
"Lose how? it's just going from the fort and back, nothing too perilous," said Edmund, a ratty-faced and thin man of twenty. He was pulling funnily on his reigns right ahead of Markus.
"The GATE?" said Markus. "Don't any of you go lying and say we all aren't worried."
"Weren't you and Hector up on the walls when those fellas came marching back? must've been a ghastly sight," Kurmann said. The brothers didn't answer him.
Edmund spoke, "Anyone see those ogres setting up with boulders? try fancying a drakes fire when its wings are crushed."
"Isn't it a dragon?" a legionary in the middle march contemplated. He was Rickett. Almost as small and scrawny as Hector, he rode on a pony with buzzcutted dark hair, "One of the blokes told me they were."
"What right man would try and tame a dragon?" Hector scoffed as they passed left and into a trail that had thick green bushels poking out on each side.
"My great uncle once tried taming a wyvern," Edmund commented.
Markus and the others had to slow their mounts to a walk, "How did he do that?"
"No idea, his head was missing so he couldn't be bothered to tell." They all had a good laugh at that one as they went through a small creek. Hector felt the water splash up onto his shins and shuddered.
"Cold?" Markus asked back to him.
"Like the hells," Hector answered.
"I'd like to think we'd be used to that by now," Edmund said. "Especially you shepherd boy."
"Go bugger a goat," Hector replied.
"We?" Kurmann repeated. "You boys knew each other before all this?" the forest was getting darker. The trees seemed to swallow them up whole in a nightly embrace. Kurmann took out an oil lamp and took a moment to light it as his men answered yes or aye in unison.
Edmund spoke, "We came from up past the Knappnai mountains, there's a gap in them that allowed us easy travel."
"That's a long way up north," Kurmann commented.
"It was a long way, took us nearly a month and a half to travel this far south," Rickett added. "Having no ponies or horses didn't help either."
Kurmann rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, "Just the seven of you hm?"
"Just us sir," Rickett answered.
"Conscripts?"
"Yes sir."
Markus scratched brambles off his horse's neck and glanced up to the front, "And what of you Decanus?"
"Me?" Kurmann tilted his head back and kept a hand on his galea, then to the front and stared out at what little light dimmed into the path's end. "I was born to a minor noble family and educated to be a clergyman in the capital, but I decided differently as you may see."
"A clergyman?" Hector called up. They exited the path and trotted into wide pastures of moist green grass that flicked dew upon the horses, "that's a right change in career."
"Didn't suit me..." when Kurmann looked back he switched views from both Hector and Markus, "you two," they both straightened at his words, "brothers correct?"
"Yes sir," Markus answered. "We do not look alike, I'm aware. gods only know how I'm related to that foul little creature."
"Asshole!" Hector clapped back.
"Enough out of you two," Kurmann made a shushing motion with his hand and nodded his head at the trail, "we're due to arrive at any moment."
"Is there a real live mage living here?" Edmund questioned. "In some random village?"
"From the reports I heard, yes. An old man."
"We never had any mage back home," Hector commented.
"An old man?" Rickett scoffed, "what use do we have for a washed-up coot living in an outhouse?"
"That "old man" was an evocation professor at Rondel's magic academy."
"Oh my, young love," Markus remarked.
"Shut up."
As they spoke Hector's eyes wandered. Off the path, the hilled green pastures led to flocks of sheep roaming and grazing the countryside. Iris's and poppies cropped at the sides of the road.
His head tilted right as something flew past high in the corner of his eye. He saw it move behind the trees, blue, yellow, scales, and wings. Hector let out a soft noise of surprise.
"Huh?" Markus had turned his head back. He saw his brother watching the forest. "Hector?"
The boy jumped a bit, he looked at him, "H-Huh? what?"
"Are you alright?" his face was strange.
"Y-Yes, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
They rode on further for a few more minutes before Kurmann eventually announced, "Settle up boys, the village is near."
He was right. A row of bricked and finely constructed houses lay in view along a sign displaying the village's name carved in. The place was a far cry from the huts and straw roofs the seven had grown accustomed to back north.
"What does the sign say?" Hector asked.
"Coda," Kurmann answered.
The settlement was bustling with life. Laborers, farmers, and militia became visible throughout the small dirt roads. All stopped to watch the soldiers trot through the town. Hushed whispers followed them wherever the soldiers went. Mothers pulled their intrigued children away, the men eyed them worriedly, and at the town square stood a group of the latter with a large fountain of running water at their backs. An old, portly man stood hunched at the front of the group.
Kurmann leaned over a bit at them, made a face, and then sat back. He unhooked his leg and dismounted his horse and put a hand on its lead and greeted the group.
While he conveyed their mission to them, Hector looked at the people watching them like exhibits or strange animals. He couldn't get annoyed with it, he and the others held the same reaction when Imperial recruiters made a show of marching into their village. It must be quite the change in scenery from the regular cows and goats.
The changes only grew in number when they'd marched between a gap in the snow-peaked mountains down to Italica. The magnificent sights he'd seen would stay in his mind for the rest of his life. Even through the horrors he would witness firsthand at Alnus four months later.
"Hector, come on," Markus said. Kurmann was given directions by the elder and they moved quickly.
The trail grew smaller and harsher as it bordered right on the edge of a steep incline. A small waterfall viewable above the treeline was the first thing the men heard and saw crossing up onto the eastern outskirts of the village.
"What should we expect sir?" Rickertt asked as he turned his horse from stepping on jagged rocks.
They took a left turn as Kurmann answered him, "According to the Elder, the old man's harmless. Still, keep yourselves vigilant at all times. Old wizards are nothing to mess with."
"Yes Sir."
After a few more moments they reached through the bushes and came out to a clearing surrounded by an oval of greenery like a foresty prison. A small cabin stood idly in its center and the waterfall they saw earlier crashed gently into a small pond filled with all kinds of colorful fish.
Kurmann went forward, then stopped. He looked back at his men, they watched him dismount, "Hector, Markus, with me. The rest of you, keep our mounts. I'll yell if something goes bad."
The brothers listened and handed their leads off to the others. Their sandals clapped against a stony path as they followed their Decanus. A faint sweet and tangy smell of sunflowers filled their nostrils upon reaching the door stoop.
Kurmann put his fist out and knocked several times. Hector and Markus stood at his left and right quietly.
The door opened with a loud creak and they saw a small girl standing there watching them. She had to be about sixteen or perhaps a bit older. Her hair was in a blue bob like the morning glory planted in a nearby garden. Her robes were colorful and matched well with the hair.
The three looked at each other confusedly, the girl's blank face did not change even when she glanced behind them at the five others. "Good afternoon," she spoke softly and concisely.
Kurmann shrugged and answered, "Good...afternoon madam, are there any other occupants in the house?"
"Yes. Is there an issue in the village?"
"No, no. Would you mind bringing your grandfather or father to us?"
"Master."
"Huh?"
"I am his student."
"Hm...might you go get him for us?"
"Why?"
"We represent the Imperial army and have orders to recruit a known wizard in this area."
"Why?"
Hector cut in, "Just shut up and get-" Markus smacked his head, "hey!"
Kurmann put his hands on each of them, "Enough out of you two," he looked back to the girl and said, "we'll explain everything, please bring him to us."
She nodded, "Come in please."
Hesitating, they followed her inside to the one-roomed structure. Strange materials, odd plants, and bottles of strange liquids stood neatly placed on shelves. The air was strangely warm and there was a faint smell of something burning and a small bubble popped like a small explosion.
A little old man draped in turquoise robes with a pointed hat stood by a small fireplace below a cauldron filled with some kind of liquid, "Ah hells, Lelei dear would you kindly get me some ground gemstone?" he stood over it with a large spoon in hand, his long beard nearing it dangerously.
"We have visitors, master," the girl said while getting a small sack off a nearby shelf.
"Hello sir," Kurmann said. The three bowed respectively and gave their names as the old man regarded them.
"Ah!" his head tilted up and he almost gave a warm smile, then frowned upon seeing their uniforms. When Lelei reached him he stood out in front of her and stared daggers at the men, "What is the nature of this visit?"
Kurmann looked at him in a surprised manner, as did his inquisitors, "Sir?"
"Out with it."
"I see..." Kurmann rose and cleared his throat, "would you happen to be the mage known as Cato El Altestan?"
"Indeed, and what would you have of me?"
"Recruitment." Kurmann answered. "the Imperial and vassal armies suffered heavy injury and casualty while conducting raids in the world beyond the GATE."
"Imagine that, what was the Emperor thinking..." Cato shook his head.
Kurmann cut him off, "Be that as it may, I must implore you to travel with us. Alnus requires all manner of medical practitioners. Herbal and magical."
"And if I refuse?"
"I'd implore you to reconsider that decision."
"Then I'll refuse, I'm not working for your sort-"
Lelei tugged at his robe, "Huh?" Cato looked at her.
"Master..." she gave him a strange face to the three of them but clearly Cato took it another way judging by his reaction.
He looked at her, then back to the men. He dropped the spoon in the cauldron and said, "Is there a reward involved?"
"Yes sir. Ten suwani a day, and a payout of fifty once this campaign ends. That would include your apprentice here."
"When is the money given over? daily or weekly?"
"Weekly, sir."
The old man studied him, then he looked at the components dressing his walls, "Uh...gods...and here I was enjoying my retirement. Come Lelei, let's gather our things."
They arrived at Alnus that night. Not knowing the mistake they'd just made.
Notes: This chapter is actually the longest one I've ever made, wasn't expecting to introduce so many characters hopefully it's not too much. I may take a bit longer on the next because college is a bastard. I wasn't honestly expecting to use Leilei and Cato until I realized the formers probably the only salvageable member of Itami's harem. Thanks for reading.
Translations:
valetudinarium-Basically a hospital.
Braccas-pants. The Romans especially didn't like these but for the sake of my fic we'll just say they started wearing them lol.