Valkyrie Profile:
Lenneth Novelization AU:
Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release.
Chapter Fourteen:
Midgardian Interludes III
"Alas, His Majesty has denied the appeal."
Lawfer deflated, and nearly allowed his head to hang low, but he kept his chin high. Even if the man he was speaking to was his father, this was still official business while on duty. He wasn't shocked by that news, just disappointed.
"So King Joshua is determined to hang Roland no matter what, then? …Sir." Lawfer quietly lamented.
As Captain Lawson sat at his desk, his mask of indifference nearly cracked. It torn him up to see Lawfer like this, and knowing an innocent man was going to gallows, a friend no less, also weighed heavily on his heart. Lawfer stood at attention across from him, looking beyond miserable.
"I am sorry, Lawfer, but there is nothing more I can do," Lawson apologized. "His Majesty's decision is final, it seems, and his word is law. We must both remember that."
"The law…" Lawfer muttered bitterly. "'Tis supposed to exist to balance the scales. To protect the citizens and prevent something like this from happening. The king would use his grief as an excuse to lash out against a convenient target."
Lawson coughed, thankful that this meeting was between just the two of them and that it was happening behind closed doors.
"You would be wise to keep such talk to yourself once you leave this room," Lawson got up from his chair and turned around to look out the window.
He folded his hands behind his back as he watched the other knights go through their daily drills. He could see Lawfer looking on in dejection in the reflection. Lawfer clenched his fists as anger took him. Unable to contain it anymore, he punched the top of his father's desk. Lawson glanced back at him, eyeing his son's hand, and looking for any sign he'd injured himself. Lawfer returned his hands to his side, ignoring the pain.
Lawfer's pent-up emotions spewed out as he spoke. "This is wrong, Captain! We both know Roland and Arngrim are innocent. There must be a way to save Roland from the gallows. If we…"
"That will be all, Offic… Lancer 1st Class Lawfer," Lawson had almost forgotten about the demotion King Joshua had given Lawfer at the end of the Roland's trial.
"But Captain…!"
"That will be all, Lancer 1st Class Lawfer."
The outrage Lawfer was experiencing reached a fever pitch, but he held it in. He clicked his heels before saluting to his father and superior.
"Yes, Captain Lawson, of course. Forgive me," Lawson sounded defeated.
"You should be catching up on your training," Lawson told him. "With the royal heir… gone, Villnore or Crell Monferaigne may see an opportunity to swoop in if they think we're vulnerable."
Lawfer had to contain a derisive chortle.
"We are vulnerable, Captain," he was blunt. "We have been vulnerable for years. 'Tis only Villnore and Crell Monferaigne's war for domination 'gainst each other that leaves us unconquered. Once that's over, so will be Artolia, Lassen, and Gerabellum's existences as independent territories unless the gods see fit to grant these small states a wallop of a miracle."
With that final statement, Lawfer left his father's office and stepped out into the fall. His body was stiffly straight and his arms rigidly at his sides, as he was not off-duty. While on his way back to the training grounds, he passed a pair of knights talking amongst themselves as they came from the opposite direction.
"The man they once called the genius of the battlefield went insane," one of them quietly told the other.
"Yeah, I heard," the other man gruffly answered. "Arngrim, his name was. His younger brother is being executed for it in three days, too. Have you seen him in the dungeon? I've never laid eyes on a more helpless, harmless prisoner."
"I feel sorry for him," the first man said. "Our king is being too cruel."
"He's a weak king," the second man grumbled. "We'll be lucky if we last another year before Villnore, or Crell Monferaigne have the run of our kingdom."
Their quiet chatter passed beyond discernible volume as they turned a corner behind Lawfer. As he opened a door at the end of the hall, his mind was still on what they spoke of.
"Taking suspicious jobs… Killing nearly ten knights in Lombart's study… How did it come to this, Arngrim?" Lawfer somberly wondered as he stepped through.
"Ah. Ha-ha. What a heavy and unbalanced heart," a figure in a long black hooded cloak stood atop the outer wall of Artolia's capital, looking out on the city. "His ability is good… and his vitality is just right."
"Hey! Intruder, intruder! On the wall!" one of the guards shouted from her post some distance away on one of the adjoining walls.
She began running over to the cloaked figure.
"What do you see, Horatius?"
"There!" Horatius pointed at the intruder, but the stranger had vanished.
Horatius stared at the spot she'd seen him standing, and looked around, seeing nowhere he could have gone.
"Horatius. What'd you see?" one of the other guards approached with his spear readied for a fight.
A woman-warrior still gaped at what she saw, or what she didn't. She pointed at where the figure in the black hooded cape had been.
"He was there," he said. "I saw 'im. A man, I think."
The other guard followed her gaze over to an empty spot directly over the main city gate.
"You must believe me," Horatius insisted.
"Hmm. Well, keep your wits about you, girl. Strange folk are about these days," the other guard turned to go back to his rounds. "Could be some Devilry. Best tell the Lieutenant, anyway."
"Yes," Horatius looked around one final time before reluctantly turning away.
Hidden under the cover of nearby trees, the figure watched the guards leave.
"That was a close one, Orlok, old boy," he chided himself. Under the shade, he was able to throw back the hood, revealing his red hair and ghostly pale fair features. "Now, then…"
He smirked. "Soon, Lawfer, you will be my weapon against the Valkyrie."
"Argh!"
Lawfer stood triumphant over his fallen sparring partner. He shouldered his wooden practice halberd and looked around at the other foot soldiers waiting on the sidelines. Other one vs. one sessions were going on around them in middle squares with lines deeply drawn into the earth. They all wore studded leather tunics for protection and had protective pads on their elbows and knees, even if they were only wielding wooden weapons at each other.
The man he just beat got up and stood across from him at attention. He and Lawfer bowed to each other before he stepped aside and was replaced by the next hopeful. Lawfer and his new opponent squared off.
"I relish the chance to spar with the best in the kingdom," said his opponent, an even younger man of about sixteen with a shaved head.
"The best in the kingdom?" Lawfer answered dubiously. "That has no meaning."
His sparring partner looked at him, stunned. "Meaningless?"
"Yes," Lawfer lowered his practice arm to his side. "Without Arngrim here to claim the title from, his runner-up is only best by default. Even so, it does not pass to me. There are warriors all over this nation. To think myself Arngrim's successor would be pure arrogance."
"Oi, that's our Lawfer. Humble to where it gets annoyin'!"
Lawfer joined in the laugh this got from the other men, surprising his sparring partner again.
The captain's son pointed to the fellow who'd jested at him. "Perhaps you're right. We shall see, won't we?"
Lawfer turned the young man who'd stepped up train with him.
"But you came here to train, not prattle. Forgive me. Shall we begin?" he asked.
Even as his next bout began, Lawfer could not completely tear his thoughts away from his recently departed friend. His focus remained firm as he beat sparring partner after sparring partner before he was too exhausted to go around round.
Woo!" Lawfer grunted, rotating his aching shoulder. He put back his practice weapon. "Good matches, everyone. Artolia's in good hands."
Lawfer smiled as his fellow soldiers gave congratulations in return. He began to turn away but stopped, staring at the rack of wooden practice tools. In that moment, he was taken back to days prior, training under Arngrim. Words from the man that had changed him flooded back into his mind.
"Are you blade of grass being blown by the wind?"
"Lawfer," the person behind him put a hand on his shoulder.
The young knight jumped in surprise.
"Whoa, steady on, lad."
Lawfer turned around, trying to smile as he flushed. "Forgive me, my mind wondered."
Addressing him was a much older man, who was almost too old to still be an active knight. His hair was gray, but his mustache had gone white. The elder knight chuckled at Lawfer. "How'd it go? Any luck wit' The Weasel King?"
Lawfer gave him a stern stare as the king's newest and most popular nickname yet among the commoners passed the elder knight's lips.
"Johnny Boy," he scolded.
The elder knight just shrugged. "Jus' sayin' wut everybod's thinkin', lad."
Lawfer dropped it and moved on. "No luck, Johnny. His Majesty refuses to pardon Roland."
Johnny Boy hung his head, shaking it. "I just can't figure it, lad. Roland's ne'er done nothin' to no one. Not like he's ever 'ad the chance. Not since those damned bandits…"
Johnny Boy stopped, as neither man was really comfortable discussing such personal and sordid details from Arngrim and Roland's past with the only remaining survivor from that horrible incident rotting in the dungeon below their feet.
"We should not be discussing this while on duty," Lawfer said.
Johnny Boy gave a single, disbelieving snort of a laugh. "No better time. 'Sides, they all know. Our knightly vows may as well not be taken 'nymore for all they be upheld with Weaselly Josh in charge."
"That is dangerous and potentially treasonous talk, Johnny Boy," Lawfer warned.
"Alright," Johnny Boy caved.
He regarded Lawfer in frustration, but not anger or contempt. The young man no older than Johnny's own grandson looked away, masking his shame as best he could. He knew Johnny Boy was right.
The older man decided to take the initiative to steer the conversation to calmer waters. As much as he disagreed with Lawfer in this talk, no one had done more to clear Roland's name than him.
"It just about be the end of ye today, right?" Johnny asked.
"Yes, I will be washing up and heading to the taverns. I hope to find Kashell and Celia returning soon."
"Aelia?"
"Aelia is on an extended mission," Lawfer said and left it at that.
Johnny Boy moved his lips back and forth, making his shaggy mustache wiggle almost comedically.
"Tell ye wot, Lawfer. Head over to the Homely Inn and enjoy enough mead, ye won't be able t' piss straight. Tell Ollie it's all on ol' Johnny Boy tonight. Ye lookin' like ye need it," he said.
"I couldn't possibly," Lawfer held up a hand. "That'd be taking far too much advantage…"
Johnny Boy just slapped him across the back with a heaty laugh.
"Nonsense! After the week ye've had. Ye deserve t' 'ave a little fun."
"Well…" Lawfer still wasn't sure about that.
A stiff drink followed by many more in light of the situation sounded very appetizing, he couldn't deny it.
"Very well. Thank you, Johnny," Lawfer bowed his head respectfully. "I think I will take you up on that offer. The Homely Inn, correct?"
"That's right," Johnny Boy confirmed.
"Very well. Thank you," Lawfer turned and began heading out.
As Lawfer left the training area, he still heard whispers behind him. They might have been about Arngrim, but Lawfer wasn't going to stop and ask. He opened the door back into the castle and was about to go through when the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. A chill went down him spine from there, and Lawfer suddenly felt eyes on him.
He turned and glanced back at the other knights still practicing. None even glanced his way at that distance. Even Johnny Boy's attention had been drawn elsewhere.
"What was that?" he wondered.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he shrugged and went inside. As soon as he closed the door behind him, a man in a black hooded cape stepped out from behind a pillar, staring after him from outside.
"What? Finished already?"
Lawfer remembered how Arngrim had soundly beaten him in sparring, again. He'd fallen onto his knees and lost grip of his practice pole. It'd come to rest in the grass in front of the blonde while Arngrim held his wooden training sword to Lawfer's throat like he was about to slice it. Lawfer rubbed where his shoulder had taken hit from a moment before, which was the deciding blow in the match.
Lawfer had been much younger on that day, age 14.
"Six years ago. Arngrim was only 20," Lawfer pondered in the present. "How time flies."
He remembered wincing at the pain in his shoulder. The thought of showing pain from such a little blow now amused him, since he had received wounds so, so much worse since then.
"I think I've had it for today, Arngrim," he had said.
"Seriously?" Arngrim turned to his head to the side, looking on Lawfer with disapproval. "What gives?"
"I'm not the same as you," Lawfer had whined. "I'm not a genius on the battlefield like you."
Lawfer recalled how Arngrim looked like he wanted to bop him in the head, but in a rare show of restraint, he marched over and picked up Lawfer's practice pole. He held it out for the younger man to take.
"Genius?" Arngrim scoffed. "That's something a loser would say. Now pick up your weapon and try again."
Lawfer hadn't seen the point. He was no match for the big warrior, but he did as he was told and took back his training weapon. He stood up and then the two of them got back into fighting positions to go another round.
Arngrim was always a tough trainer, which was why Captain Lawson had requested he train his son. After several more rounds in the field just outside the Artolia capital, the large warrior finally allowed Lawfer to call it day and they sat watching the sunset on a tall hill which overlooked the city.
"You weren't bad, kid," Arngrim congratulated him. "You went from eating the dirt after three strokes to lasting about twenty."
"'Tis only because I started running from some of your blows," Lawfer countered. "Ugh. I wasn't quick to keep up with my own strokes."
"Feh!" Arngrim dismissed the self-deprecation with a wave. "Sometimes you have to step aside and give ground to win. I don't like doing it. Charging forward and putting them on the defensive is more my style, but if your opponent is coming at you with a sure blow that's gonna break your defenses, standing there and taking it to prove somethin' will just get you killed."
That had made the boy feel a little better. However, it did not answer the question on his mind at the time.
"Say, Arngrim," Lawfer hesitantly began. "My father says I'm going to be a knight, and the men under him say I'll be the captain someday."
Arngrim looked toward him, indicating he was listening.
"Do you think I really have it in me to be either of those things? I don't see it when I look at myself," Lawfer confessed.
Arngrim regarded him a moment, and then reached down, grabbing a handful of grass. He held it up and let the wind carry it away.
"Are you blade of grass being blown by the wind?" he had asked. "Are you going to be changed by what you see, or change what you see?"
Lawfer considered the question, and listened as Arngrim continued:
"All you can do is your best. So, what do you want to do? Figure that out and the steps will come to you. It's better to follow what you believe."
"I… I do want to be a knight, like my father. I want to protect this land," Lawfer said firmly. "I don't know about becoming the next knight captain after him, but the knighthood is for me, I'm certain of it."
"Heh! Well, you're gonna need experience on the field before they'll even let you in," Arngrim explained.
"Yes," Lawfer looked away uncertainly. "That part will be much more difficult since you won't be here all the time to train me. I'll have to find a knight to apprentice me. There'll be many other lads my age vying for a master as well, so finding an available knight will be… difficult. Johnny Boy's already spoken for, since he's training his grandson."
Arngrim's smirk turned almost mischievous, and Lawfer knew at once he was not going to like what he said next.
"You're right, I can' t be here to train you all the time," Arngrim said. "I have other jobs that need doing. That's why I've made your father a deal."
"A… deal?" Lawfer asked cautiously.
"Yeah, if you come with me to do mercenary work, I'll be able to finish your training," Arngrim explained. "In exchange you help me on jobs. It won't be just the two of us, neither. Me and some friends are putting together a mercenary band so we can take bigger jobs that pay more. So, what do ya say?"
"I, uh… that is very generous, Arngrim. I don't want to be rude, but why?" Lawfer had been caught completely unguard by this.
"Because I promised your ol' man I'd train you. This is the best way," Arngrim answered.
"How many will there be?" Lawfer asked.
"We're a small operation. So far it's me and two other swordsmen, Grey and Kashell, a spearwoman named Aelia, a mage named Lamia, and some other dumb kids like you who wanna learn how to fight."
"You're taking on other apprentices?" Lawfer was surprised. "Well, that's very kind of you, Arngrim."
"Eh, we owe their parents just like I owe your ol' man. The brats are two boys your age, Bartos and Rolf. The third's a girl with a couple o' years on ya, named Celia."
Arngrim looked at him expectantly. "So, what do ya say? Beg some knight who might only say yes 'cause you're the captain's son, or take the offer of a friend? We'll teach ya better than any stuffy old prissypants tinhead making the same rounds everyday."
Lawfer thought about a moment, and then gave Arngrim a determined smile.
"I'm in. I think I'd like to stand against the wind."
"And that was the beginning of Fenris's Brood," Lawfer thought melancholically.
Back in the present, he finished fastened his brown pants as he stepped out of the baths. He grabbed his socks, brown boots, and his red button-down long-sleeved shirt. The perfect disposable outfit for a night of trying to get drunk enough to forget one of your best friends was due for the gallows in a few days.
After he'd finished dressing, he set out for town. His mind was still deep in plotting out how things had gone so wrong in the last couple weeks.
"I wish the others hadn't had to leave. I hate being the only one here while this is going on. How will I ever tell Kashell and Celia about this when they get back?" Lawfer asked himself. He sighed. "I'm being selfish. Here I am worrying about myself when Roland's rotting in a cell."
In a moment, he was out in the courtyard, walking the cobblestone path to exit out the main gate into castle town. As he crossed under the enormous archway into the city, Lawfer tried not to fixate on Roland, a futile endeavor he failed in. The fair-looking young man subconsciously glanced back through the castle's main gate and saw the barred dungeon windows around the base of the structure. He focused on the one he knew Roland was in, and just stared at it for a long moment before he forced himself to turn away.
With deliberate action, Lawfer began walking towards The Homely Inn, deciding not to take a buggy there. It was a decent walk halfway through castle town, but Lawfer felt the need to just wander and lose himself for a bit.
"A trip through the marketplace might be in order. I may even see something worth purchasing," he thought.
He quickened place, turning onto Main Street to get there quickly. All the while, in the back of his mind, he thought about what Johnny Boy had said.
"Our knightly vows may as well not be taken 'nymore for all they be upheld…"
It pained Lawfer how true that was, and he soon found those vows repeating in his mind.
As soon as he crossed between the pavilions, Lawfer glanced around the marketplace, trying to distract himself, but he couldn't focus on anything. His knightly vows would not stop chanting in his mind and even seemed to be reaching a crescendo. They were an unpleasant reminder of what he should be preparing to do instead of going out to drown his sorrows, now that the law had failed one of his friends.
After walking many more blocks, The Homely Inn came into view. With a few more city squares to traverse, Lawfer slowed down as his conscience continued to pound against his heart. It was an itch, an urge he could not contain. Lawfer gave in and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
He began to mumble his knightly vows:
"A Knight is sworn to valor. His courage and generosity must never be compromised,
The knight who turns from the path of righteousness forgets the wisdom of his forbearers.
A knight values justice and honor above the law when administration fails,
The knight who fails to correct an evil ruling forgets the face of his brothers.
A knight gives his all for king, country, and the people, even his life,
The knight who acts only in self-interest forgets the face of his father.
A knight unleashes his wrath and blade only upon the wicked,
The knight who slays the innocent to save the wicked forgets the face of his mother.
A Knight of Artolia sees them clearly in his heart."
"And here everyone does nothing as Roland's execution date comes ever closer," Lawfer dejectedly thought.
"What can I do?" Lawfer asked himself aloud.
He sighed and went inside. He paused by the door, looking around The Homely Inn before sitting down. The Homely Inn had always lived up to its name, being fashioned like the dining of a house, except bigger. Most taverns Lawfer had been in did not worry themselves with looking presentable, given they were quickly filled with the stink of alcohol and other odors. But Lawfer had to admit Olie the Innkeeper ran a tight ship. On the stage, the minstrels were playing and some who were already drunk were dancing or singing along to their tune. Their fiddles were strumming a melancholic melody today, which did little to lift Lawfer's spirits:
"Drink to the Glory-field
where a man embraces death,
and thank the gods that we live at all
with our joyous dying breath!
Drink for the wind blows cold
and Drink for the Wolf runs free
Drink to the ships with the sails like wings
for Odin's sons are we!"
Most of the booths and tables were taken, which just left the barstools. Lawfer ignored most of the chatter as he approached the bar, of which only a few were still empty. The young knight plopped down on a stool next to a table where some especially rowdy drunks sat. Their collective voices were so thunderous Lawfer had half a mind to speak up, but tonight he was just too drained to bother.
"Good evening, Olie," Lawfer greeted the innkeeper.
"Ay, good evening. Lawson's boy, right? What can The Homely Inn do for ye t'nite?" a large, hulking older man with white hair and a receding hairline asked. "We just got a shipment of Gerebellum's finest ciders."
"Thank you, Olie, but I think I will have a Lassen Red, please," Lawfer requested. "Watered down."
"Ay, Lassen Red. Popular choice with you yougin's," Olie smiled and turned away. "Oi, Kriem! A Lassen Red, watered for Stool 8!"
"Keep yer shirt on, I'm servin' up these Flenceburg Fiery Meads back 'ere!" a harsh, shrill voice came from the backroom.
"By the gods, woman! The Red Flamberg gang ordered that one twenty-minutes ago!" Olie shouted back.
"Ain't my fault you forget to bring more up!" Kriem hollered back. "Stool 8's gonna hafta wait 'til I get this barrel out!"
Olie stormed off to get Lawfer's drink, himself, grumbling something disparaging about the serving wench Lawfer did not care to hear. Lawfer quickly put it from his mind as he turned to listen to the band, who were singing something much merrier now.
Now that Lawfer was turned to the side, facing the stage along the wall to the left, one of the loud drunks at the table next to him could see his face clearly.
"Oi, ain't that Lawfer, one of that Aluze nutter's mates?" the drunk seated facing him asked.
Lawfer pretended not to hear but looked at them in the corner of his vision.
"Aluze?" one of the other drunks asked.
"Ye know, the genius on the battlefield?"
"That's Arngrim, ye berk! Now who's this ye talkin' about?"
Lawfer stiffened and turned away, resting his arms across the bar. He silently prayed for the men at the table to just leave him alone. No such luck. They all turned toward him. He heard them chuckling in that way people do when they want to stir up trouble, followed by the sound of them getting up from their chairs. His stomach sank as he saw them barged their way up to the bar on either side, surrounding him.
"Excuse me!" one of the other bar patrons complained as they were shoved from their stools.
"Ye're exc'sed!" a scraggly man said.
They smiled predatorily as they circled around Lawfer almost threateningly.
"Well, look who it is?" a short, stocky man with a wide face and a pegleg said. "Lawson… son, right? Yeah, Lawsonson! They make dem knights purdy these days, right, mates?"
The other men laughed derisively at Lawfer.
"A knight? I thought this was one of Olie's wenches!"
Lawfer glared at the rowdy bunch as they broke into a round of hardy laugh. As he looked them over, he recognized them. He'd seen them around and even broke up a few drunken brawls they'd started.
"Bunch of brigands," he thought. "Bet they're all still sore about being made to leave that woman and her daughter alone over Chester's Tavern."
"You're the Vorpal Axes. Good evening," Lawfer retained his politeness, frosty as it was. "What do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?"
He turned to the man with the pegleg. "Bart, right? Leader of this lot?"
"Ay," Pegleg Bart replied.
"Well, good evening to you. I would not want to keep you gentlemen from your business any longer," Lawfer nodded.
"Ooh!" The Vorpals jeered.
"So fancy and polite-like," a skinny man with a red bandana mocked. Otherwise, he wore all shabby, brown clothes. "So, what's one of the dandy uptown boys like ye doin' down in the dregs with us, boy?"
"I am just enjoying a few drinks while off-duty," Lawfer politely answered. "I am still hoping to do so in peace."
"Are ye now?" one of them asked.
"Yes," Lawfer firmly answered.
"Wot, we's just havin' a bit of fun," a stout fellow with a blue bandanna around his neck wrapped his arm around Lawfer's shoulders.
"Yeah, we just foolin'," another Vorpal laughed. "You must be used to foolin', bein' friends wiff the nutter."
It took every ounce of self-control Lawfer possessed not to throw the man onto the bar top and acquaint his face with his knuckles.
"The nutter?" Lawfer inquired, despite already knowing.
Olie came out from back with a tray of mugs. He glanced around at the Vorpals suspiciously and set one mug down in front of Lawfer.
"Sorry fer the wait, sir. 'Ere's your Lassen Red."
"Thank you much," Lawfer held his mug up as if toasting Olie.
Olie's attention was now on the Vorpals, with eyes narrowed to imposing slits.
"No trouble tonight, or else I'll have Kaz throw ye all out like he did last week," Olie threatened them. "I'm watchin' all ye. Anymore trouble, and ye'll not be back in my tavern."
The Vorpals just held up their hands easily as Al walked away with the trayful of mugs. Even the man who'd put his arm around Lawfer removed it.
"No trouble, Olie!" one of them insisted. "Just havin' a chat with Lawful 'here!"
"Lawfer," the young knight corrected.
Olie grunted his doubt as he took the tray out to the main dining area. After a moment of quiet, they turned back to Lawfer.
"So, it true?"
"Is what true?" Lawfer asked warily.
"Did he sell the princess out fer Villnore?" Pegleg Bart asked.
"Don't be ridiculous," Lawfer rebuked him and then took a long drink of his alcohol.
"If'n he did, can you's really blame 'im?" skinny bandanna said. "Got's to be better than serving The Weasel King, bleedin' cheapskate."
Lawfer slammed his mug down.
"That's treason," Lawfer looked the man dead in the eyes. "Even off-duty, I will report anymore talk like that."
This caused the smiles to fade from the ruffians' faces, something which made Lawfer feel more satisfied than he wanted to admit. Catching the glint in his eyes, Pegleg Bart smiled meanly, having a comeback readied.
"Don't change the fact Arngrim was cracked," he said. "No way 'round it. He was cracked, but too much of a craven to take 'is own hangin' like a man. Bloomin' nutter killed 'bout ten knights on his way out, too. He had to be workin' for Villnore. Bloody animal."
Lawfer's hand closed around his mug so tight, the knuckles and finger joints turned white. He knew they wanted trouble and were pressing his buttons, but by the gods, it was taking everything he had not to give it to them.
"Or maybe it 'ad nothing to do wiv Villnore," Bart grinned. "Maybe he took the princess out there 'cause he likes 'em young."
That did it. Lawfer got up from his barstool and marched past the other Vorpals until he came to Pegleg Bart. Lawfer grabbed him by his filthy vest and pulled him close.
"I have had just about enough of you. So, don't. You. Dare," Lawfer's blue eyes were deadly cold. "Arngrim wasn't insane. He was deceived and framed for crimes he did not commit. I will not allow some lowly thugs you like to mock him for a moment longer. You will cease this treasonous and disrespectful talk of yours', or I will have your tongues."
"Well, look it, men! A shiny knight stickin' up for a merc like us! Never thought I'd see the day."
"Arngrim may have been a mercenary, but he was loyal to his friends, and he risked his life for Artolia more times than any can count," Lawfer retorted. "The greatest tragedy is how this nation's strongest warrior was drawn into a conspiracy against the throne and cut down outside the battlefield."
Lawfer's scowl deepened as Bart tried to break free from him. The knight's grip instead tightened, and he pushed him against the bar to hold him in place. None of the other Vorpals had made a move to force Lawfer to let go yet, but they were looking between Olie serving drinks and behind the bar, presumably where they knew Kaz would be.
"But at least he made it right by killing a dangerous man like Lombart before he could do anymore damage," Lawfer finally let Bart go. "Now go back to your table and speak to me and of Arngrim no more."
Pegleg Bart smiled.
"Oh, well, gives blokes like us a chance to show our quality, right?" he boasted. "Ere's to the jobs, eh?"
"Your quality?" Lawfer scoffed. "You will never receive work from the castle to replace Arngrim. Not so long as I have anything to say about it."
This made the other Vorpals all get up and surround him.
"Suppose'n you didn't 'ave anything to say at all," one of them threatened.
"So, wot are ye gonna do 'bout it?" Bart dared Lawfer.
Lawfer was not impressed nor intimidated as he looked around at them.
"You would dare lay hand on a knight of Artolia, and son of their captain?" Lawfer decided to remind them just who they were dealing with.
"Hey! Hey!" Olie stomped up to the quarrelling men. "There'll be no violence in my inn while I'm its keeper! You Vorpals! Out o' my inn, now! And ne'er return!"
"Wot! He's the one who's started wiv th' threats!" the Vorpals protected.
"I highly doubt that," Olie shot back. "Now get else you want Kaz bouncin' ye off the walls before throwin' ye all out!"
"Aw, Olie…" Pegleg Bart whined.
Olie cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, "KAZ!"
The door behind the bar flew open. On the other side stood a figure so tall his entire head was obscured above the top of the doorframe. He bent over and stepped through. Once through, he straightened to his full height. He had broad shoulders that dwarfed even Arngrim's, and dark brown skin and white hair which denoted his Kalstad heritage. His sharp gray eyes took in the scene, and his violently palmed his fist.
"Oi, Mr. Ellingboe," Kaz greeted Olie. "One purging coming right up."
"Never mind! We're leaving!" Pegleg Bart announced.
Then he and the rest of the Vorpals ran out. However, their peglegged leader trailed behind, being unable to run as fast on his wooden appendage, and he received no aid from his alleged followers. Olie and Kaz both laughed watching them go. Lawfer let go of the breath he'd been holding and sat back down on the barstool.
"Thank you so much, Olie," Lawfer smiled at the innkeeper. Then he turned to the enormous bouncer still behind the bar. "And thank you, Kaz."
"Anytime, for one of Fenris's Brood," Kaz's spoke in his smooth baritone. "I haven't forgotten what you all did for the New Kalstad Settlement back when you were still a band. If the Vorpals cause anymore trouble for you, you know who you can call if the other knights aren't around."
"Thank you," Lawfer told him again.
"Now then," Olie stepped back behind the bar. "A second Lassen Red? I see ye've almost finished yer first."
"Ay, another, please," Lawfer answered.
Some hours passed, and Lawfer tried to enjoy himself. Through the merriment, the songs, and the drink he partook in, the mental image of Roland remained rooted in the back of his mind. He could not shake the notion he was being selfish with chatting up other warriors about past battles.
As Lawfer sat down at a now empty table with his mug in hand, he went very quiet. The combination of the alcohol and his own guilt were making for a deadly brew.
"I can't do this," he decided.
He finished his drink and somewhat sluggishly stood up. He'd had fewer drinks than intended, but the Lassen Red, even watered down, was strong enough to begin affecting him. He left the empty mug on the table.
"Goodnight, everyone," he waved as he headed for the door.
"Already leavin' us?"
"Am I startin' a tab for ye?" Olie called from the bar.
"Nay," Lawfer stopped at the doorway. "Johnny Boy said he's buyin' tonight."
"Right, then. Goodnight, Sir Lawfer," Olie bade him farewell.
Lawfer stepped out to see the sun was almost gone. The sky was purple and the stars and moon were visible. The blonde knight glanced up at the pale sphere near the middle of the heavens and wondered what Mani could see from clear up in the sky.
"Do you ever feel overshadowed by Sol, I wonder?" he asked the moon god. He laughed at his own situation, then. "I bet you'd still die for her, though."
Lawfer walked with a slight sway as he started down the street towards the barracks near the castle. As he passed by an alleyway separating the Homely Inn from the next building, he heard the distinct sound of people talking in hushed tones coming from within. Lawfer almost didn't catch it and only stopped when he was a pace or so past it. He turned and doubled back to the corner, leaning against the building as he strained his ears to make sure he'd heard what he thought he did.
Sure enough, he heard muffled voices too distant to be made out. Lawfer peered around the corner, looking down the narrow backstreet. He saw a shadowy figure pass by on the other side, going from behind the neighboring building over to The Homely Inn.
"I better check this," Lawfer entered the alley and tried to walk quietly while keeping to the shadows.
As he neared, the voices grew louder and the words more distinct. He also found himself recognizing the voices more.
"Are those the Vorpals again?" he internally wondered.
"You brought it, right?" the gruff croak of the peglegged man came to his ears.
"Bart? The Vorpals, indeed," Lawfer realized dismally.
Then he paused. "Wait. It?"
Lawfer came to the alley's end but remained a few paces from exiting.
He leaned to look around the corner to the back area of the neighboring building, and then did the same for the Homely Inn's loading area. There he saw Pegleg Bart, the tall skinny man, and several others fellows among the group of seven presently gathered behind the inn.
"You brought the skeleton key?" Bart croaked gruffly.
"Got it right 'ere," one of them produced a the lockpicking instrument from his pockets.
"Alright, we wait 'til Olie closes up shop, and then we go in through the back and give him and Kaz a good ol' caning!" Pegleg Bart said.
"Caning?" it was then Lawfer noticed the wooden blunt objects they all carried.
As their plan came into focus in Lawfer's mildly inebriated mind, he tensed, knowing he couldn't afford to be caught by them. He was alone and unarmed against a small mob with thick wooden sticks that looked like they could give quite a beating without breaking a sweat.
"I first must warn Olie and Kaz, and then fetch the city guard," Lawfer decided.
He took a step back, intentionally shuffling as he is, scraping his boots against the brickwork.
"Oi, wut was that?" one of them asked as they all turned in his direction.
"Lawfer, you clumsy-foot," he cursed himself and turned to run.
Only he bumped into someone almost immediately when he tried. Lawfer was staggered and almost fell, but he grabbed the other person by the shoulders holding on for dear life to remain upright. He recognized him as one of the Vorpals. Desperately, Lawfer tried to push past, but the other man grabbed hold in attempt to stop him.
"Stop him! Hold him still! The other Vorpals shouted as they ran up.
With no other options, Lawfer peered around the side of his opponent and tried to shout. "Help! Somebody help! I…"
Lawfer's head jerked forward from the impact of a thick wooden stick to the back of his skull. He slumped against his opponent, caught in a head-splitting pain while reality swam in a heavy red haze. He was moved again, and he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. His hearing was muffled like he was underwater while his ears throbbed with a loud, metallic ringing which further drowned everything else out.
The young knight was shoved against a brick wall and pinned by both arms by a pair of men.
"Hey!" he heard a voice that sounded like it was from on the other side of a pond. "Hey!"
Lawfer's head jerked sideways as he was slapped across the face. His attacker then did it again, and again, before the young knight's eyes were on him. It was Pegleg Bart, flanked by five other Vorpals, all gathered around, holding their bludgeoning tools up for him to see. They'd pinned him against the building behind the inn in the small lane that ran behind the businesses.
Lawfer tensed up, trying to fight against the two men holding him in place, but when he exerted the effort, his head throbbed. The blonde moaned in pain that became so bad, it felt like his head was about to burst.
"Easy, Law-boy," Bart's faux amiable tone almost sang. "'Tis all in good fun."
The other Vorpals laughed, a sound that also made Lawfer's head ache.
"Good fun? You are nothing but lowlifes who prey on others," Lawfer shot back.
Pegleg Bart pretended to mull over what he'd just been told before stepping forward, palming the stick he held.
"Perhaps we can reach an accord?" Bart stepped into Lawfer's personal space. "Ye just tell everyone ye tripped and ne'er saw a thing. If not, the boys and me might be forced to… persuade ye."
Lawfer stared back defiantly. "If you want me quiet, you must kill me."
Bart narrowed his eyes, menacingly tapping the stick against his palm again.
"Fine, then," Bart began to raise the thick stick.
Lawfer still showed no fear. "Remember this, brigand. Several witnesses saw our argument at the inn today. When I turn up dead tomorrow following a run-in with the Vorpal Axes, what do you think everyone who saw us will assume? It'll unlikely to just go away, either. A son of the line of Edgetho, a member of the Artolian knighthood, and friend of many of your fellow mercenaries murdered? Your heads will roll. So do your worst, villains. You will spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders after this night, for however long or short that may be."
Bart hesitated and even began lowering the stick as the other Vorpals began to look unsure of this course of action as well. However, the glint did not go out of the peglegged man's eyes, and he raised the bludgeoning tool again.
"Ye know what? We don't need t' kill ye, boy," Bart's voice was low but dangerous. "We just need ye to sleep through the night."
Just as Bart's arm tensed to throw the first strike, a hand appeared from the darkness and grabbed his wrist.
"What?!" Bart whirled around in shock.
The other Vorpals also exclaimed and backed up, surprised and even scared that someone had come into their midst so suddenly and without their notice. He was a tall, pale specter of a man cloaked in a long black hooded cape, though the head covering was down, revealing his face. The interloper had fair features not unlike Lawfer's and wavy red hair.
"All of you against one man?" the stranger tsked. "That's a bit cowardly, don't you think?"
"What're ye…?" Bart shouted as he pulled his hand free.
The Vorpals circled around the man, and even the two men pinning Lawfer to the wall dropped him to contend with this new interference. Lawfer dropped into a hunkered position with one hand pressed to the ground keeping him balanced. Through eyes that were still a little foggy, he took in the new player that'd just invited himself to the board. The pale ginger threw his dark cloak back over his shoulders, revealing his dark gray clothes and leather battle armor, but most importantly, the blade hanging from his belt.
The Vorpals saw him reach for the hilt and jumped at him all at once.
"No!" Lawfer tried to get up, but lost balance in his state.
He fell over onto his side, but luckily did not hit his head again. Lawfer collected himself and looked up, expecting to see a struggle going on, but instead the pale man in black stood over the bloody bodies of the Vorpals. His blade was stained red, confirming the kills. Lawfer raised his head upwards, trying to sort out how he'd killed them all in the split second between him trying to stand and falling over.
The stranger wiped off his blade, and resheathed it before kneeling down with a hand outstretched for Lawfer to take.
"Here. We have to get the head wound looked at. I passed a restaurant with outdoor tables and lit candlesticks not far away. I can get a better look at it there."
Lawfer mumbled a thank you, taking his hand. The stranger leaned in closer, wrapping a hand around the fallen knight's shoulders and gently helped him up.
The journey to wasn't long, but it sure left like it to Lawfer. They'd had to go slow, because he was still feeling tipsy. However, within ten minutes the stranger seated him at one of the many outdoor tables of Fafner's Trove, one of the finer places to eat in Artolia. The pale stranger grabbed the candlestick from the table and held it closer to Lawfer.
"Let me see your eyes," he instructed.
Lawfer complied and looked at him as he held up candle. The stranger examined him closely.
"No concussion," the pale man announced. "Let me check that wound."
He set the light source down and Lawfer lowered his head so the stranger could examine where he'd been clubbed. The pale man gingerly ran his hand over the bump which was forming. He felt something wet and when he withdrew his hand, there was a spot of red on it. However, it was nothing serious.
"It looks like the blow to your head did only superficial damage," the stranger said. "It hurts, and 'tis bleeding a bit, but it feels worse than it actually is."
He took out a cloth from his pocket and handed it to Lawfer. "Press that to the wound 'til the blood flow ceases."
"Thank you, kind sir," Lawfer was relieved.
Lawfer pressed the fabric to the wound, wincing from the pain as he applied pressure. While Lawfer's eyes were off him, the pale man quickly lapped the blood off his hand. He hummed happily from the taste.
"Mm. Just right," he thought.
"I must also thank you for the unremittent aid you've provided," Lawfer looked back up at him. "You've gone above and beyond the call of duty for me."
"I'd like to think any decent folk would do the same, but you are very welcome," the man in black answered.
Lawfer studied him a moment longer before speaking again.
"Forgive me for prying but are you visiting Artolia? You do not seem familiar," he said.
"Correct, Sir Lawfer. As a matter of fact, if 'tis not too much trouble, I would humbly like to request your assistance," he said.
Lawfer gave him a surprised look, at which Orlok chuckled.
"Allow me to explain. Oh, but I have not introduced myself. Forgive me," the man slapped himself in the forehead. "I am Sir Orlok Dracul, of Lassen."
Lawfer blinked, looking at him in surprise for a second time. Orlok sighed, lowering his gaze before nodding in answer to the question he knew the young knight had. He looked at Lawfer again, intently.
"Yes, as in the Draculs who were involved in rekindling the Gorhla cult during the Artolian Civil War," Orlok admitted uneasily. "An unfortunate stain in my bloodline I seek to bury in the past through knightly acts in the present."
"Oh, I was not going to say anything," Lawfer assured him. "In any event. I, fellow knight, am Sir Lawfer of the Edgetho noble line of knights, but you already overheard my name during my scuffle with the Vorpals. Well met this evening."
"Well met," Orlok returned the greeting.
After a pause, Orlok continued. "Oh, right. May I humbly request your assistance with something?"
Lawfer just smiled easily in response. "After saving my live, I am in your debt. What can I do for you?"
"I have come to your nation to speak to the king on behalf of one Roland Gusson," Orlok said.
Lawfer leaned back in his chair, again staring at the man in complete puzzlement.
"Roland?" the young knight queried. "Begging your pardon, but what could he be to you? He's not traveled outside of Artolia's borders since before the incid…"
Lawfer stopped himself.
"You are correct, sir," Orlok admitted a light bow. "I am not personally acquainted with the younger Gusson, but I owe his brother, Arngrim."
Seeing how he really had Lawfer's attention now, Orlok continued:
"It was during the Lassen-Artolian joint campaign at the Amenti Mountains last year. I am sure you are familiar with it."
"Yes," Lawfer conferred. "The Lizardmen who dwell in those peaks had become very bold and were raiding the trade caravans. With the interests of both countries at stake, it became a rare show of cooperation between the Council of Lassen and our King Joshua. Both brought their armies to deal with them. They converged and made the lizard folk remember why they fear humans. Arngrim was included among the men from our end."
"And I was among the Lassen soldiers," Orlok replied. "More specifically, I was one of the men sent to Akhetamen Peak."
Realization shined in Lawfer's eyes. "That's the battle where Arngrim saved both armies."
"Yes, it was quite something," Orlok smiled, and then let out a low, fond laugh. "I've never seen a man act that recklessly and live to tell the tale, however necessary it was."
"That's our Arngrim," Lawfer started to laugh, but remembering his untimely death killed his merriment mid-chortle.
"You were close?" Orlok asked.
"Yes. I knew him through father since I was ten, and we've worked together frequently over the last six years," Lawfer away sadly.
He tried to distract himself by attempting to recall exactly what Arngrim had done during the Battle of Akhetamen Peak.
Lawfer's brows lined as he thought. "What was it that happened that day? Something about the timer on some traps failing?"
"Explosive traps," Orlok said. "We were trying to seal off the Lizard Men from the trade route, but the engineers didn't do their job well at all. So, Arngrim ran in and set them off by hand. The gods must have smiled on him that day, since we somehow managed to dig him out alive, and in one piece afterwards."
Lawfer mulled it over, and Orlok's story checked out.
"Every soldier who was there owes him," Orlok said. "And since I come too late to repay Arngrim directly, please help me save his brother. Is there anyone you can speak with who can get me in to see the king? I just want to plead his case and hopefully stop this unjust execution."
Lawfer nodded, but there was doubt in his eyes. The earlier rejection he'd received from his father was still fresh in his mind.
"There is, but I wonder how much good it will do," Lawfer miserably muttered. "This very day, my own appeal in this case was rejected."
Orlok looked away as he considered this information.
"I would… still like to make my case, regardless," Orlok said. "Let us both try once more. Do you think either of us could ever look Arngrim in the eyes in Valhalla if we turn aside now?"
That last statement reignited a fire in Lawfer. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees, staring at Orlok resolutely.
"Yes, I think we should," Lawfer said. "My father is Lawson, captain of the knights. I will speak with him on your behalf and then have you plea your case to him first thing tomorrow. From there, we shall see what we must do."
"Thank you, my friend," Orlok began to smile at him. "I will owe you after this."
With that, the two men shared a forearm shake on it. Then Lawfer got up, testing his balance while dabbing at his head with the rag some more to see if he was still bleeding. With his eyes off Orlok, he missed his new companion's vulturine smile.
"Ah, home, sweet rancid old gutter, home!"
"Come now, Kashell, Artolia's not that bad," Celia said with a giggle.
"Isn't it?" Kashell turned on his saddle as their horses clopped along at a light trot through the streets.
"Of course not," Celia assured him.
Then after a moment, she added: "It's worse."
Kashell turned to see Celia's smiling impishly and found it infectious. The two began laughing as they made their way past the familiar old dingy buildings they'd seen many times before.
"Oh, well, at least you can't see it by night," he shrugged.
"It's still good to be back," Celia exhaled, releasing a lot of tension. "At least things can go back to normal now. I hate to speak ill of Lassen, but…"
She stopped herself.
"It's a shit town," Kashell bluntly muttered.
"Kashell, there's no need to be crass," Celia scolded.
"Hey, no more slave traders, no more nobles dying for no reason, and no more barricading our inn rooms at night," Kashell protested keenly.
"Yes, I won't be missing that, either," Celia admitted. Then she grinned and added: "Although, you did forget one."
"Oh?" Kashell inquired playfully.
"No more wandering the wilderness hoping Lord Geoffrey does not anger the Lizard Men of the Amenti Mountains," Celia could barely contain a giggle.
"Well, when you put that way, you make it found like escorting Lady Lobelia and her family to and from Lassen was hard work," the snark was thick in Kashell's voice.
"Wasn't it?" Celia asked, with amused weariness.
"No, it was worse," Kashell cracked.
With that, the redheaded woman laughed even harder than before. Kashell rode along beside her, grinning as well.
Celia wiped a tear from her eyes as she finished chortling. "Oh, Kashell!"
When their laughter died down, they rode in silence for a bit.
"Do you think Aelia will have sent word about Grey yet?" Celia suddenly asked.
"Hopefully," Kashell said after a pause. "If Njord smiles on us, she hasn't been caught by Villnore's patrols. And if Njord really likes us, Arngrim will be back from that job of his and Lawfer can get some leave to join us."
"Perhaps Janus will have finished with that family matter which sent him back home," Celia added.
Kashell blinked and itched his chin awkwardly. "Well, this doesn't really involve him…"
"I know, but every bit of help we can get would help," Celia insisted.
Kashell quirked his head as he considered the point.
"True, but I don't really see myself asking him to go North to Villnore with us just to hunt one man who only has a small bounty on his head," he muttered.
"He's a mercenary. I'm sure if nothing else we can negotiate a wage to entice him," she said.
"Mercenaries paying mercenaries?" Kashell deadpanned. "That's a new one on me."
Celia sighed, eyeing him with amusement. Then she spotted a street she knew all too well, even during the evening. Her eyes brightened.
"Oh, we're close to Arngrim and Roland's house. Maybe they can tell us what's happened since we left. We should drop in and say 'Hi', at any rate," she suggested perkily. "We can also ask Arngrim how the job went."
Kashell grinned. "Assuming he isn't drunk stupid."
"Then we can help Roland manage him. It'll be good to see them both, regardless. Now do come on, Kashell," Celia insisted.
She turned her horse down the lane the brothers lived on. Kashell shrugged and guided his steed to follow hers', seeing no harm in it. There were still a few people milling about, walking on either side of the back lane at this hour, and they gave the horseback riders a wide birth. The duo turned another corner and saw the home of the Gussons ahead of them, three houses away. An old man sat in his rocking chair across the street from their destination. He glanced toward them when they rounded the corner.
Celia smiled at the sight of the familiar abode and lightly snapped the reins, hastening her horse for the final stretch. The old man waved to her, and she returned the friendly gesture.
"Good evening, Thom," she called politely.
"Oh, is that you, Miss Celia. These eyes aren't what they used to be," Thom answered in a raspy wheeze of a voice denoting his advanced age.
"Ay, 'tis me. 'Tis both of us. Kashell is with me," Celia's response was cheery.
"Evening, Thom," Kashell called as he approached from further back.
Celia pulled her horse to a stop in front of Arngrim and Roland's house.
"And 'tis a perfect night to return home on," she said. "After a long two weeks away, I am glad to be back."
As Celia dismounted, she noticed Thom looking apprehensive about something.
"Is something the matter, Elder?" Celia was now concerned.
"Ye're here… t' see Arngrim 'n' Roland?" Thom asked hesitantly.
He looked at the home of the Gussons across from his own.
"Of course," Celia answered, uncertain why he asked. "Why?"
"Something wrong?" Kashell asked.
Celia glanced up at him as his horse clomped up beside her.
"I'm not sure," she answered.
She turned back to Old Thom, who'd gotten up from his chair and was shuffling toward them, supported by his cane.
"Oh, you needn't get up. Not on our account," Celia told him.
"No," Thom shook his head. "I need t' tell you both someffing."
"Does it have something to do that parchment nailed to Arngrim's front door?" Kashell asked.
Celia first looked questioningly at Kashell as he also dismounted, and then turned to the house's only entrance. She felt her stomach turn. Even though they were a bit too far away to read what was scribed upon it, the royal seal upon the notice's header was big and unmissable.
"Ay, it does" Thom stopped beside Celia. "Now…"
Before he could go on, Kashell and Celia walked the few final steps up to the door, pulling their horses along. They stood on either side of the front door, reading the official notice scribed upon the parchment. Thom shut his mouth, covering his face in his hands as he turned away. He'd hoped to break it to them in a kindlier manner than that piece of paper was going to, but he hadn't been quite quick enough.
Bang!
Something thumping against wood made Thom look towards duo again. They were still reading it, but Kashell was seething with rage and had pounded his fist against the doorframe. Beside him, Celia read the official notice with horrified eyes that were quickly misting over as they moved back and forth across the letters. She covered her mouth with her free hand.
As soon as he was done, Kashell turned sharply away from the offending sign and briskly walked back over to Thom, leading his horse still. Celia lingered by the door, starting the message over, unwilling to believe what she'd just read.
Kashell looked at the old man and attempted to speak but failed initially. Kashell opened and closed his mouth, making sounds, and uttering the occasional word as he struggled to organize his thoughts. Finally, it just burst out of him with all the anger and shock he was experiencing:
"Is this some kind of sick joke?"
Old Thom could only sorrowfully stare back.
"They…" Celia's choked words died in her throat.
Both men turned to her. She met their gazes as she forced down a sob.
"Arngrim's… dead?" Celia's voice was shaky.
Kashell stared at nothing with a look that denoted both his grief and his rage. Old Thom could barely look Celia in the eyes.
"Ay, I'm sorry, Miss Celia. Arngrim's gone off to where good warriors go," Thom conferred.
Kashell, who'd been able to hold back the tears at first, felt the underside of his eye moist and warm as the clear liquid spilled out and rolled down his cheek.
"This can't be real," he thought.
"They put poor Roland in the dungeon?" Celia cried harshly. "But he's harmless!"
"'Tis no jest, young ones," Thom looked at the stones beneath his feet. "The Knights declared ol' Gus's home condemned after they ransacked it and hauled off little Roland."
"But… Bu-but…" Celia sputtered helplessly.
Kashell turned from the old man, taking deep, quick breaths through his mouth as anger overwhelmed him. His free hand was clenched into a quivering fist as he attempted to control his emotions, because in that moment, it felt like he was about to explode. As he began speaking, Kashell's voice gradually rose from a straining version of his inside voice to an angry shout:
"The weak wretch of a king actually thinks Arngrim and Roland would have ANYTHING TO DO WITH THAT?"
"Has no one tried to help him?" Celia asked.
"Sir Lawfer. That boy's run himself into the dirt trying t' prove Roland's innocence," Thom explained. "Not that it did either any good."
"Either?" Kashell spun to face Thom again. "What did the king do to Lawfer?"
"Lawfer… poor boy lost his position as an officer," the old man shook his head sadly.
The looks of disgust Kashell and Celia wore said it all.
"He's still a knight, but just a foot soldier now," Thom explained. "The king deemed him a disloyal for speaking up fer Roland."
"Oh, that dirty son of a bitch. How dare he!" Celia crossed her arms angrily.
Kashell gave her a surprised side look upon hearing her swear. It didn't last, as his own anger was still boiling, and the fact it'd pushed the usually prim Celia to coarse language made it worse.
"Have you seen Lawfer lately?" Kashell asked.
"Nay, he 'asn't come around since it happened," Thom pointed to the house with his cane. "Can't say I blame 'im. He's been trying to get the decision appealed from what I hear. You might have luck askin' for him at the castle."
"Thank you, Thom," Celia said. "We won't keep you any longer."
"Ay. Don't go doin' anything foolhardy, you two," Thom said.
"Bless," Celia bade goodnight.
"Bless," the old man said in return.
When Thom turned to go back to his rocking chair, the mercenary duo stood in silence, staring into each other's eyes. Neither knew nor cared how much time had passed.
"What do we do, Kashell?" Celia was visibly distressed.
Kashell didn't have an immediate answer for that, except, "We need to find Lawfer, get his side of things. If we're in luck, we'll catch him on his way back to the barracks. Come on."
"You think he'll still be out?" Celia asked.
"Of course. He's one of us. We always drink after work," Kashell said. "And right now, he'll be needing one more than half the city does. Let's go."
With that, they both climbed back onto their horses and rode off towards the castle.
"Finally. Coriander Village."
Aelia rested her hands on her hips as she stood at what remained of the village's main gate, which happened to be the lower half of the posts, which were both now slanted in different ways years after their upper half fell off. The redheaded mercenary looked on the decaying little burg and was less than impressed. It hadn't improved since the night Platina and Lucien had fled from it nearly six years earlier.
"It's like a ghost town, except people are still living here," Aelia was at a loss of what make of the living ruin before her. "Why would anybody live here, let alone a whole village?"
She looked down at what had been a brick road, now uneven and overgrown from lack of repair. It was a perfect reflection of the buildings within its borders. In fact, one of the buildings looked like it'd collapsed not too long ago. The entire front half of the abode was a pile of stones and rotted straw while a lone backroom survived due to a sturdy support beam, but now with only three walls. Aelia just hoped no one was still living there when it'd happened. The wind fluttered through, punctuating the already cold, misty air of the foggy village.
"Brr… This is definitely up North," Aelia shivered. "No wonder they don't seem to be having much luck with crops."
As she looked around, light still flooded out from some of the windows, but Aelia wasn't about to go knocking on doors at this hour. You never knew who might answer.
"What a dump. Grey really came here?" Aelia lightly kicked one of the gate posts, making it wobble.
She nearly laughed in disbelief at how loose in the ground the pole must have been. The warrior-woman looked back at Brego, who was nosing the ground and munching on any grass he could get.
"Hey, boy, since it's night and no one's out, wanna try to find a good camping spot?" she asked him.
Brego just looked at her, quietly nickered, and went back to eating.
"Yeah, I thought so," Aelia turned from the village.
So, Aelia the shield-maiden led her trusty horse further away from the village for the evening to find a place to bed down. This task turned out to be harder than she thought. As the hours passed and the moon rose riser into the sky, Aelia failed to find a good campsite. Everyplace was either too out in the open with blustering winds that'd put out a fire in no time or cause a bigger one. Others were too cramped to make a proper campsite with a horse tied off to a tree nearby. At was at the height of exhaustion that a desperate and weary Aelia returned to the village gate. She paused at the threshold with Brego before they crept in.
As they walked the neglected path through town, Aelia looked around, almost expecting someone to try shooing her away. Brego's ears were back, indicating his unhappy over being led around all through the night.
"Yeah, I know, boy," Aelia scratched him under his chin. "But I just found the one place we can rest and maybe not get eaten by wolves."
She led him behind the collapsed home where they were relatively out of view. Aelia saw a few enclosures for small herds of livestock out back of the other homes, but she could deal with that in the morning if someone came over to question her. Aelia tiredly tied Brego to a tree that was growing right on the back porch of the collapsed home before laying out her bedroll on the boards of that little entryway.
Aelia settled in for the night with her arms curled around her spear just in case. She closed her eyes and slept, or at least, that had been the plan. In truth, she tossed and turned, unable to get much sleep. Whether it was out of paranoia of what the villagers might do if they caught her slumbering, or if wolves heard Brego and approached, Aelia just could not fall soundly asleep. By her reckoning, she must have dozed off several times just to be awakened by a sound, or by nothing a few times. Every time she opened her eyes after a certain point, the sky had brightened a little more. Then a rooster crowed, signaling the beginning of a new day.
"Nnnnnnnnnnnn…" Aelia's body did not want to move.
The boards had been uneven, and it felt like something was poking into her side or back no matter where she'd moved. Now she forced eyes with dark circles to open again, accepting that the day had begun in this miserable place, and there was ground to be covered.
She crawled out of the bedroom and grabbed her armor.
"Alright, time to start asking around."
The abbreviated version of her morning routine was over in minutes, and she took to the main path through the little village before most of the villagers were even out and about. Aelia slowly made her way through the village, hoping someone would just come out so she could speak with them without having to go around hammering on doors. In any event, she saw no sign that their quarry was around, or had been recently.
"Doubt he woulda been invited to bunk in any of these houses," Aelia thought.
Behind her, a door creaked open, and the warrior-woman stopped to look who had come out. It was a lone elderly woman, stepping out her front door. Aelia immediately noted how frail and thin she looked, and how shabby her clothes were. Yet despite that, her gray hair was done up perfectly in a little bun in the back.
"Someone came out. Oh, thank the gods," Aelia muttered to herself.
She turned Brego around and began to approach the elder, waving.
"Good morning," Aelia called, flashing a toothy smile.
The old woman looked at her in surprise and a little alarm. She warily eyed the steel-clad and armed warrior coming her way.
"Oh, dear," the old man cooed, almost like a dove. "Good morning. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Hey, now, no need for that," Aelia attempted to sound laidback. "I don't mean no harm."
Aelia made sure to stay on the main path, not entering the shabby lawn of the old woman's property during her approach. There was no reason to scare someone who looked delicate enough to die on the spot, she reasoned. The warrior-woman bowed low, showing her respect for her elder before she spoke again.
"Actually, Elder, I'm just looking for someone," Aelia straightened back up. "If you can tell me, I'll be on my way."
That seemed to calm the old woman now. Around them, the neighboring villagers were also beginning to step out to start their new day. Some stopped and stared at Aelia with the same suspicion the elder had while others ignored her. It made Aelia more self-conscious than she thought she'd be. She found herself awkwardly smiling and sometimes waving as they passed by, always giving her a wide birth.
"Armored feller, right? Head and toe, but nothing fancy-lookin'?" the old woman asked.
Aelia almost gasped, not expecting it to be that easy.
The old woman then pointed to her own forehead and added, "Had a cross emblem on the crown of his helmet's visor?"
Aelia's lips curled sideways into a big, lopsided smile while a wicked glint appeared in her eyes.
"So, he did come this way," Aelia thought with determined glee. "Gilbert's intel was accurate. I'm gonna have to pay him extra after this."
"That's him, alright," Aelia said. "Do you know where he is?"
"Said he was lookin' for the Arkdain Ruins," the elder interrupted. "Just head straight west from this village 'til you hit The Old Forest and then head due North on the main road. 'Tis impossible to miss."
Aelia was left blinking dumbly there on the road. "Uh… Oh, okay. Thanks."
She took one step away, and then realized something. Aelia turned back to the elderly woman, who'd grabbed a garden hoe and was heading around back.
"Hey, how will I know The Old Forest when I reach it?" Aelia asked.
"There's a sign posted," the elder answered. "'Tis more a warning for folk to stay out, though. The Old Forest is dangerous. The ruins are even worse."
"Dangerous ruins?" Aelia pondered to herself.
Brego snorted next to her, and his master subconsciously began scratching him under his chin as she continued to dwell in Grey's most recent activities.
"What could be worth his while all the way up here?" Aelia contemplated. "He practically traveled across the entire expanse of Villnore to get here."
"They say the ruins have giant magic crystals sealed within," the old woman seemed to read her mind.
"Huh?" Aelia's head snapped up, caught off guard by villager yet again. "Magic crystals?"
"Indeed, stranger," the elder replied. "They say demons covet 'em. Many have come up from the kingdom to explore those ruins, but nary a one has returned."
Then the old woman paused, scratching her chin. "Or they just went straight south from the ruins to return to the capital without stopping by here again. That's just as likely."
Aelia giggled in response. However, the village elder looked at her dead seriously.
"If you follow your friend into those ruins, you may not like what you find. Be warned, young one."
With that, the old woman finally left Aelia alone to do what she would with the information.
"Tch. Like I can turn back now?" Aelia snorted.
She reached up and petted Brego along his mane.
"Well, come on, boy," she said to him. "We have a heading now. Let's get going. This place gives me the creeps, anyway."
As Aelia put one foot through the stirrups and began climbing onto the saddle, she still hadn't figured out what it was about Coriander she didn't like. There was something uncanny about it, like its soul had been taken. It didn't sound right, either. There was an element missing from among the normal noises one heard in a village.
Once on the saddle, Aelia scanned her surroundings again. Then, it clicked what was off now that she had a higher vantage. She saw adults of both sexes from their middle-age and up. The most youthful persons there still had to be almost twice Aelia's age. She was a woman of her mid-twenties, and not a single person she could call a peer, or a junior, was about.
"Only geezers?" Aelia's confusion intensified. "I don't even hear any kids playin'."
As soon as she had that last thought, dread grew in the pit of her stomach, feeling heavy, like an anchor. This village wasn't right, and she was leaving.
"Ya!" she snapped the reins and Brego took off, bearing his master away from the eerie village with no children.
"Has it really been so long since I last beheld you with my own eyes, Love?"
As Lezard walked the halls of his home, the Tower of Valeth, he mused on how it'd been over two weeks since the incident at Artolia which had crossed their paths. He had a leatherbound journal hooked under one arm while he carried an inkwell and a pen in one of his hands.
"A full sixteen days since I last saw the wondrous sight of the maiden in blue with hair of silver," Lezard thought dreamily. "And countless hours since I last saw the beauty which stole my heart in my presence."
He sighed. Every day since then, he'd spent it trying to learn more about her, and without fail, he had. He hadn't sat idly simply observing her exploits from afar, though. Lezard had been deep in study to learn more about Lenneth, but it was no mere tome which he read from. He bypassed the many books in his vast collection altogether, as they held little information that would be useful to him. No, he had something far, far more useful in this regard at his fingertips.
Lezard reached the end of the hall he traversed, and seemingly came to a dead-end. Instead of turning back, he raised one of his gloved hands and pressed it to the solid stone wall, running his index finger over the cold surface. As his finger traced across the stone, it left a glowing trail behind it which formed into a series of runes. When he'd finished, he held up his hand with the palm facing the wall.
"Stan!" Lezard chanted.
Then he pressed his hand to the wall where the runes shined. A crack appeared vertically down the wall in a straight line. Then the two halves pulled away from each other, revealing a hidden room behind them. Lezard stepped through and his secret door closed itself again, resealing itself into being a slab of solid rock once more.
The hidden room was octagonal, with enchanted torches of blue flame hanging from each of its sides, bathing the space in its cool glow. In the center of the room was Lezard's greatest treasure and asset. It appeared to be a stone of black marble which sat in a round impression fitted for it atop a plain light pedestal.
Lezard stepped up to the pedestal, holding one hand suspended directly over its surface. He stared into the orb's center, and something within it began glowing red.
"Oh, Philosopher's Stone," he thought. "I must know more about how to capture a god. Show me."
As he gazed into its glowing center, words began to appear. In the past, it had showed him secrets he had sparsely considered possible before, and the spells to carry it all out. As he began reading, Lezard quickly grew impatient as the Stone showed him information he'd already copied into his journals eons ago.
"Yes, yes, I've already read this, dear Stone" Lezard impatiently carped. "The gods change bodies like others change clothes if their fleshy vessels become too damaged, blah blah, I know. You can also reincarnate a god as a human, and then reincarnate them back. Take me back to the index."
Lezard paused as the table of contents for this section of knowledge appeared. Then he touched his fingertip to one of them as one would use a modern touch screen. The chapter appeared.
"Let's see, what does this section have to say?" Lezard adjusted his glasses as he read on. Within a few sentences, his intent expression turned into a scowl. "Ugh, no, I've performed conjuring souls a thousand times now."
He went back to the glossary, scanning the contents. "This one? I've already read this, too. I've created dozens of homunculi before. This is not what I need. I need seals, dear Philosopher's Stone. Seals which I can place on a new vessel for a goddess, which will rob her of her power once her soul has placed inside it."
As Lezard continued to slide his fingers over the stone's surface, flipping through the sections of information presented to him, he slowly closed in on the information he needed. On more than one occasion Lezard has cursed the Stone for not simply giving him all the universe's secrets at once. No, it had to be read like a billion-page codex, and that required patience Lezard had to force himself to possess. The Stone finally divulged its secrets, and a smile curled its way up Lezard's cheeks as he read on.
"Oh, it's that simple, is it?" Lezard opened the journal he'd brought with him.
He opened the inkwell and dipped the pen in it. With great haste, he began copying the information before him.
"With this, Lady Valkyrie, oh… I mean, my beloved Lenneth, you will be mine when next we meet," lust poured out in his tone. "I wonder, how long does a caged bird remain haughty and stubborn? How long before I can make you demure?"
When Lezard had finished, he reviewed what he'd copied down, double-checking his work to ensure the spell was correct. He kept the journal open, waiting for the ink to dry. As he did, he looked up from it and began staring off into space.
"The ingredients of my plan come into focus," Lezard eagerly whispered to the stones around him. "Lovers in tragedy to draw her, dark energy to weaken her, the knowledge to transfer her soul, a vessel to house her in, and this seal to rob her of her Divine and warrior's strength."
He let out a pleasurable "Mmm," as he thought about the days ahead together with her.
"But enough reverie," Lezard said.
He left the chamber and walked back through the hall. The time of studying was over.
"Time to begin collecting a few materials I'll be needing," Lezard thought.
"BELION!" he shouted. "Your master calls!"
Thumping footsteps echoed down the halls until a massive, green form that walked hunched over with arms that hung almost to the floor approached him. Belion's round face had a perpetually fuddled look at all times.
"Yes, master," Belion greeted and bowed to Lezard.
Lezard smiled at his homunculus servant.
"To the Forest of Spirits, my homunculus," he said.
"Again!"
Following Lenneth's command, Belenus aimed his sword out straight and lunged at Llewelyn with a thrust. The young archer gripped his bow at both ends. He leaned his body to the side and used the bow to push his opponent's blade away. Llewelyn then shifted his grip so both hands gripped the bow at one end and swung at Belenus's face as hard as he could. However, Belenus was able to draw his sword up where it protected him, and Llewelyn's bow bounced off it harmlessly. Then the swordsman followed through swinging at Llewelyn's head, stopping just shy of the boy's neck.
"Belenus wins," Lenneth announced. "Attention!"
The sparring einherjar stepped in and stood with their arms firmly at their sides as she addressed them. The wind howled up on the mountain plateau where she trained them that morning, making her braid and skirts flutter. The chilled air signaled not only the elevation but also the fact they were in the northmost parts of the Artolia mountains, not far from Coriander Village.
Lenneth looked toward Llewelyn and asked, "Can you identify what you did wrong?"
The boy thought about it, and then shrugged.
"I'm… not as good in close quarters as Belenus?" he ventured.
Lenneth replied by marching toward them. Llewelyn gulped and almost backed away, but the Valkyrie barked an order, making him stay in place.
First, she pointed to Belenus. "Hold up your sword out in a forward thrust as you did before. Yes, like that. Remain still a moment, please."
While Belenus posed, Lenneth grabbed Llewelyn's wrists and positioned him parrying Belenus's attack again.
"This first block was correct," Lenneth explained. "Your subsequent move was where you went wrong. Repeat exactly as you did before."
Llewelyn gripped the bow at one end and swung toward Belenus's face.
"Do you understand now?" Lenneth asked.
Llewelyn shook his head. Lenneth turned to Belenus.
"At ease," she told him.
Belenus came out of the pose and rested his sword across his shoulders.
"Can you tell Llewelyn why you were able to block his counterstrike?" Lenneth asked.
"Yes, Lady Valkyrie. I saw it coming. He practically announced it," Belenus answered. "The instant I saw his grip on his bow change, I knew he was going to swing at me."
"So, I was too obvious with how I moved?" Llewelyn asked. "How do I fix that?"
"Both of you return to your positions from when Llewelyn blocked the attack," Lenneth commanded.
When they posed again, Lenneth stepped in beside Llewelyn. She altered the angle Llewelyn held it, so the end pointed toward Belenus was also aimed at his throat. Then, using her foot, Lenneth tapped the leg Llewelyn had forward.
"Thrust the bow forward leading on this leg without changing your grip or altering the bow's position in any obvious way," she instructed.
Llewelyn performed the move followed her instructions, stopping just shy of stabbing his sparring partner in the throat with the end of his bow. Belenus flinched, not expecting the boy to move so quickly. He knew if Llewelyn had used that technique, he'd have won the bout easily.
"Do you understand why you likely would have won with this move?" Lenneth asked.
"Yes, Lady Valkyrie," Llewelyn stood at attention before her. "I'd have taken him by surprise with it. So… the key is not to be obvious with your next move in a fight?"
"One of the keys, but yes," Lenneth nodded. Then she stepped back, motioning to both of them. "Return to your starting positions and go another round."
Belenus and Llewelyn backed away from each other. Lenneth did not expect Llewelyn to win the next round, but she was hoping for him to improve his close quarters combat. And making one of her sword fighters square off against someone different wasn't a bad idea, either.
Before she signaled for the two to begin, Lenneth looked off to the side to check on Arngrim and Jelanda.
"Alright. One, two, three," Arngrim swung at Jelanda, counting off each of his strokes.
She blocked his downward swing from above by holding her specter up a slight angle and parried it to the left while backing away to the right. Arngrim drew it back and came in from the side for the second strike. Jelanda braced herself, holding the scepter to the side, but with the lower end forward more. She was again able to redirect Arngrim's blow, arcing it over her to the other side. He came in the third time, and Jelanda blocked it while backing away more, rather than trying to resist all the force of his stroke.
"Good," Arngrim gruffly said.
Jelanda let out a big whoosh of air, slumping. "I don't think I could keep that up for long."
"You don't need to," Arngrim said. "You just need to last long enough for backup to arrive, or get far enough away to cast a spell. Also, don't forget about magic crystals or potions in the new belt Valkyrie got ya."
He pointed to the new brown leather belt Lenneth had acquired for the ex-princess as a favor from the dwarves, which was hastened around Jelanda's waist. It had several pouches which contained various elixirs, potions, and enchanted crystals waiting to be used in future missions.
Jelanda opened one of the pouches, pulling out a red crystal Arngrim knew to be enchanted with Fire Lance.
"I don't know how I feel about relying on these," she said. "I won't be able to control how the spell is cast doing it this way."
"It's just a backup in case you get cornered," Arngrim repeated.
Contented Arngrim had Jelanda situated, Lenneth looked to Llewelyn and Belenus again.
"Again," she ordered.
Belenus and Llewelyn swiftly approached each other, with the former going on the offensive again. The Lassen man swung across from the side this time. Llewelyn feigned a block, but then dove into a roll right past his opponent. Belenus stopped and turned himself around as quickly he could only to be confronted with a sparking energy arrow pointed right at him. Llewelyn was down on one knee, releasing a big breath.
"Llewelyn wins," Lenneth announced.
She nodded in approval at the winner of that last bout.
"You learn quickly," she said.
The boy just laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. Lenneth glanced upward, checking the position of the sun.
"I will have to wrap this up soon," the Valkyrie thought. "There. I sense something dark far to the West. I hope to identify it before this day is done."
"Hey, Lady Valkyrie," Llewelyn's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes," she turned to him.
He was again awkwardly scratching the back of his head almost shyly as both the goddess and Belenus looked at him attentively.
"I've been wondering something," he admitted. "I don't know if you're allowed to answer, so I'm just going to throw it out there."
"Go on," Lenneth prompted.
"Well," Llewelyn began. "How comes there's basically nothing about you in our Holy Writs? You and your sister are like ghosts compared to how much is written about the other gods."
There was no visible change in the goddess's demeanor as he spoke. However, Belenus noticed how her fingers tensed as the boy made his inquiry. Beside him, Llewelyn pressed on:
"Some of it's not even good things about the other gods, like when Lord Odin killed poor Thiazi just for trying to court Idunn. Yet all there is of you is a single paragraph about what your job, and that's it."
"'Tis not important for the Valkyrie to be the center of attention," Lenneth replied plainly.
"It doesn't bother you that the other gods get all the glory, but you're not even allowed to tell anyone your name?" Llewelyn asked.
"I do not perform my duties for the glory," Lenneth said. "'Tis enough I play my role in keeping the great wheel turning, to put it one way."
"Oh, alright," Llewelyn was clearly surprised by her answers.
Belenus glanced at Lenneth, sensing something underlying in her tone the boy had not. Lenneth made a quiet, but punctuated noise with her throat.
"Alright, exchange partners," she called.
Arngrim and Jelanda stopped and looked towards her, and then came over.
"Belenus and Jelanda; Arngrim and Llewelyn," the Valkyrie instructed.
"Oh, great," Llewelyn sardonically thought.
He and Jelanda walked past each other, while Arngrim and Belenus exchanged a nod.
"We haven't started working on ways for her to break away and give herself casting space," Arngrim told the other swordsman. "She's really getting the hang of blocking, though. She just needs to build up that endurance right now."
"Thank you, Arngrim," Belenus politely answered. "And Llewelyn is currently in the middle of sorting out ways to get the upper hand while wielding only a bow against a sword in close quarters."
"Got it," Arngrim replied. "I've trained archers before. I know a few tricks to show him."
Lenneth observed as they squared off and continued sparring the ranged fighters to learn to better defend themselves if caught in close quarters. However, under Lenneth's steely mask, Llewelyn's line of questions bothered her more than she had let on. It wasn't a new quibble she had with how Odin and Freya had arranged the religion which surrounded their pantheon, either. Lenneth had performed many deeds for the mortals over the centuries, and while it was true that she didn't do any of it for glory, it became easy to feel neglected when nothing you did was ever noted in any official capacity.
The mortals sang of Thor's great deeds from long ago, but not of Lenneth's deeds from just a week ago. Few would likely even know it was the Valkyrie which had broken the curse on the Forest of Woe. They didn't even know she existed. Sure, they knew about a Valkyrie, but not her name, and that she was not just one entity.
Lenneth realized she'd let her mind wonder, but before she could situate her attentions back on her einherjar, she felt something. A tingle in her sixth sense which called her from down in the valleys below the mountains. It felt like the resonance of human thought, but out here, where no rational human lived?
Curiously, Lenneth turned southward, in the direction it came from. She immediately decided it was worth seeking out.
"Excuse me a moment," Lenneth suddenly announced to her einherjar. "Continue training, I will return shortly."
"What is it, Lady Valkyrie?" Belenus asked.
"I just sensed something. I will scout it out and call for you if I need assistance," she said.
Then the Valkyrie quickly turned away, departing with punctuated haste. Arngrim gave the Valkyrie a sideways look as she passed them. He exchanged a look with Jelanda, who just shrugged, and then turned to Llewelyn.
"Eh, what's that about?" Arngrim asked. "She's been a bit off since she had us change partners."
"It appears barely being a presence in our Holy Writs bothers Lady Valkyrie more than she let on," Belenus said.
"But Lady Valkyrie said she's not in it for the glory," Llewelyn seemed confused.
"Did she actually say how she feels about it?" Arngrim asked.
Llewelyn stared back in confusion. "She just said she's not in it for the glory. That not count?"
"Ah, but she hasn't said how she feels about it," Arngrim smirked as he pointed that out. "When you ask a lady how she feels about somethin' and she answers without actually answering, it means she don't like it."
"So, she is bothered by it? Why not just say it?" Llewelyn asked.
"She just did if you know how to read women," Arngrim answered.
Jelanda rolled her eyes at Arngrim's self-assuredness on the matter.
"Really?" Llewelyn asked. "Millia was always pretty straight with me. When I got her a dress she wanted, but it was wrong color, she said it was fine and wore it, anyway."
Arngrim's almost laughed and he looked to Jelanda and Belenus.
"You wanna tell him, or you want me to?" Arngrim asked.
"Enough idle gossip!" Lenneth shouted from the edge of the plateau. "Continue your morning practice."
With that, the Valkyrie took off, leaving her einherjar atop the mountain.
"Told ya," Arngrim grinned.
"Alright, let's just get back to practice before you bring eternal damnation down on us all," Jelanda said firmly.
"How comes there's basically nothing about you in our Holy Writs? You and your sister are like ghosts compared to how much is written about the other gods. Some of it's not even good things about the other gods… Yet all there is of you is a single paragraph about your job, and that's it."
"It appears barely being a presence in our Holy Writs bothers Lady Valkyrie more than she let on."
"Such nonsense," Lenneth sternly refuted the notions.
She descended into the forest valley, landing on an old animal trail. She stomped through the dirt and grass as though fleeing something.
"…a ghost in our Holy Writs… Not even allowed to tell anyone your name."
Lenneth tried to ignore the repeating comments in her head, growing more agitated as they proved to be affecting her more than she wanted to admit.
"I do not feel isolated by my anonymity," she told herself. "There is nothing wrong with being set apart by both the gods and man most of the time. I am perfectly fine. I am…"
As she stepped out into the open, her thoughts were interrupted by a strange sense of familiarity. Yet it was only a large expanse of wilderness at the base of the northern end of the Artolian mountains. She brushed the feeling off, telling herself she likely walked this path countless times in the past on mission.
As she pressed on, a field of white soon appeared before her. This made her stop again, as another sense of déjà vu settled in. She stared at the scene ahead, tilting her head to the side as something almost came to her. As she drew nearer to it, she realized it was a field of white flowers.
She stopped again, and almost recoiled instinctively. Something inside Lenneth told her to stay away from it, and yet she could not tear herself away. As she quickly strode toward the flower field, her armor clinked loudly, echoing through the forest. When she reached the field's edge, she lingered, staring uneasily at the white flowers. Her eyes moved from one to the next, transfixed on them.
Lenneth knelt and clasped one of them by the stem, pulling it out of the ground. As she looked at it closely, she realized they were some kind of lilies. The stalk had bloomed flowers all along its side, top-to-bottom in alternating spots. The flower itself had four-petals.
"Weeping Lilies," she realized.
She stood back up and entered the field, looking around. Suddenly, the wind picked up, blowing several pedals into the air, and making them flutter around like snowflakes. Lenneth watched them not joyously enraptured as she normally would be in a flower field, but in uneasy fascination. She felt her heart skip a beat, and a voice inside her was screaming. She was at the edge of fight or flight with no assailant in sight.
"I am a goddess, these poisonous flowers can harm me not," she reminded herself.
Then Lenneth stormed deeper into the fiend, defying this sense of helpless fear, armor clinking loudly as she went. She looked around and tried to pinpoint exactly what was setting her off. Then she felt something else.
"No, not my own feelings this time," she realized.
She sensed the same connection as before, akin to when a dying human's soul called to her through the threads of fate. Then it was gone, leaving the Valkyrie perplexed.
"This place…" she murmured. "I'm sure I felt the resonance of human thought."
Well now she had to investigate further. Lenneth continued roaming through the weeping lilies, becoming calmer but not quite at ease as she ventured through them.
"Hmm?" She paused when she spotted something in the distance off to her right.
It looked like a cluster of stones, but they were piled low, in a rectangle or oval shape out in the middle of the field.
"A grave? Who would make a grave in a place of like this?" Lenneth was bemused.
She charged course, heading straight for it. As the pile of stone became more distinct, so did a cold feeling in the air. The morning sky suddenly darkened unnaturally, making the Valkyrie reach for her sword. Then, two wisps materializing, circling over the makeshift gravesite. Like mini-comets with tails trailing behind them, their gleam was blue.
"Revenant spirits!" Lenneth recognized them right away.
She drew her blade and charged them on foot.
"Your kind does not belong in this place!" she shouted.
More burst up from the ground, surrounding her. Lenneth slid to a stop and gripped her weapon in both hands. They tried to mob her, but Lenneth spun in place unleashing a single lightning-quick arcing slash all around, felling all but two of them.
The two survivors broke off and then looped back in to attack them from both directions. Lenneth was too fast for them, splitting the grinning skull-face of one and then backflipping over the others' change. She cut that one down, too, before it even had a chance to double back.
A final, creeping angry spirit came in behind her, but Lenneth simply pivoted on her heels, and pointed her sword at it. The unholy thing froze, staring into her killer eyes and then retreated via dispersing into several smaller wisps through the air. The sky brightened again and the air warmed.
She sighed and lowered her sword. "They've fled."
As she resheathed her sword, Lenneth's eyes fell to the pile of stones again.
"Why would specters gather around this grave?"
Lenneth approached the rock pile grave and saw a single word etched onto a particularly large stone which had been used for the headstone. She walked around and knelt next to it.
"Who was this?" she asked. "And why were they out here where there is nothing?"
The tombstone was covered in weeping lilies, making the name unreadable. Lenneth was about to wipe them away when another gust kicked up the lily pedals. The Valkyrie watched as warily as a child scared of lightning and thunder during a storm would. She stood with a start.
"What am I doing here? Why was I drawn to this place?" her thoughts turned introspective but failed to puzzle it out.
With the headstone cleared, she could read it now. The word was mostly faded, so Lenneth had too squat again while her eyes tried to comprehend it.
"Pla… Patricia? Pilar? No. It's…"
She began tracing her fingers along the faded scratch marks, trying to visualize what had been scratched onto the surface.
"Pla… tine… Ah, yes, Platina."
Her moment of eureka then ended as swiftly as it began, she realized she'd heard that name before. She stood and backed away from makeshift grave. All desire to know more was gone, leaving only the want… No, the need to leave.
"Platina? I've… heard that name shouted in those… Visions? Memories? …I have been getting," Lenneth's hushed tone was the kind one spoke in when they felt like they were uttering a forbidden word.
It mattered not why the field of deadly flowers affected her so anymore. She was leaving. Lenneth took the air and hurried back to her einherjar. Yes, there was much to do, much to see to, and all of it was far, far away from that dreadful place. As she flew, the Valkyrie vainly attempted to convince herself she was not running away. There was simply no more to be gained by staying there. Yes, that was it.
"Yet my heart yearns to turn back, to return to that place," Lenneth realized.
Her eyes set into a look of determination.
"No," she told herself and stayed the course back to the mountains.
