Behind the Walls
Lukas beats his wings rapidly to gain height and disappear from the spot of his would-be-execution before the smoke below can dissipate and give the rebels a clear shot of him. That is if they realize that he has taken the form of a small and innocent looking bird in the chaos.
That is one of the upsides of human superstition, and one he is happy to take advantage off. Most of them tend to believe that every magic users capable of vanishing into thin air at the blink of an eye and so it escapes imagination that he has changes shape. If they had realized, they might have known that they had a chance of recapturing him.
He knows he will have to stop somewhere soon where he can heal for a few hours before he can make the full flight back to the Capital to report in. He stole life energy from the veteran he killed through the garnet crystal, but with the amount of damage he took during combat and the following interrogation, it is not enough to last. He took the time to tear out the arrow in his shoulder before he escaped, but every beat of his wings sends a jolt of pain through the newly repaired muscles and muscles and he knows he cannot fly for very long.
Once he is far enough out of reach for the rebels, he can look for a decent place to land and where he can take care of his injuries in peace and quiet. He heals faster than humas, but he is far from indestructible, and the two veterans were heavy handed when dealing out punches during his interrogation and that damage is not easily ignored.
Lukas has always enjoyed his bird form and flying. After the King began controlling most of his life, flying became one of the only time when he can remember what freedom ever felt like. The weightless feeling of soaring on a warm breeze, not tethered to the ground and the many duties resting on his shoulders. There are no tactical meetings with other generals to worry about, no running drills for the common soldiers to make sure they are ready for battle, just the wind rushing past his ears and the sounds and sights of nature.
This time is different. Lukas can feel the insistent tug of his master's will like an icy hand wrapped around his heart and pulling him towards the Capital where the King is surely waiting for a report. It seems he already knows something has gone wrong in the north, and wants to know what has happened as soon as possible, then used the spell to demand Lukas's presence.
He eyes the landscape below him carefully, considering where to land.
There are not a lot of villages out here and many of them raided already, but after a few hours, Lukas does find a lone barn that is still standing and makes his descent. He shifts back into human form, and searches through the remains of a small farmhouse to finds some tattered blankets to fight of the chill, something that his shirt in its current state is uncapable off. With that he is prepared to spend the evening meditating to focus on healing.
Only when the soft red glow of the setting sun turns into darkness does he settle down in a stack of hay to catch a few hours of sleep.
He reaches the Capital a few days later after a few days of flyting, only taking breaks when pushed to his absolute limits and he needs either food or sleep to not pass out.
The landscape passing below changes slowly as he travels southeast. Many of the small outskirt villages are already raided and ruined, the people dead or on the run, but the closer he draws to the Capital, the less destruction there is to see and the settlements are growing larger, turning into larger towns. He knows the tax collectors were ordered to take more than they have ever before and that the villagers have a though winter ahead of them, but at least the buildings this close to the Capital are standing.
Lukas passes through a few of them, just to get an idea of the situation so he has something to report back besides the failure at the war front. Usually, small towns like these are teeming with life and laughter at this time of year, everybody excited about the autumn markets. This year however, every single one of them are eerily quiet. People are alive, but not truly living, just going through the paces of day to day. The market squares are almost empty and people make their way through town without paying the vendors any interest. Everybody lacks goods to sell and money to buy necessities, preferring to hoard what little they have left in hopes that it will be enough to see then through winter.
He leaves almost as quickly as he arrives. There is not much to see and no signs of rebellions that need to be dealt with either. He has to return to the castle before the King grows too impatient and angrier.
The massive walls of the Capital is the first thing to appear on the horizon in and otherwise open landscape of massive fields. There used to be a forest surrounding the city once upon a time, but as the city grew, they needed more open areas for crops and slowly the forest was cleared away until the closest cluster of trees stands a few kilometers away from the outermost wall. It serves the city well. Not only do they have easy access for fields of crop, but the vast open areas make it easy to spot approaching forces in a time of war.
The castle itself stands in the very middle of the city, atop a tall hill. It is like a pride jewel on display, magnificent and unreachable. It stands protected by four increasingly large walls. The innermost one is built in massive blocks granite, made to be an impenetrable last line of defense, built in the early days of the Capital. The books and scrolls hidden deep within the castle library tells dark stories of how it took a massive slave force and several renowned stonemasons decades to plan and construct. The walls further out are not as tall or thick, and built at later points to protect a steadily growing city expanding beyond its walls. The outermost one is fairly recent, but already people have been forced to live outside the protection of city walls, and if the city continues to grow there will eventually be demands for yet another one.
The rings of walls does not only serve as protection, but also as a way to separate the social classes from the others. The people living on the outside are the poorest of the poor, the ones that nobody seems to care about. Then as one moves further into the city, the social status increases from commoners, to richer merchants and nobility. The innermost ring house the numerous guards and soldiers in the King's service and in the very middle of that district stands the castle atop its hill.
Lukas flies towards the castle and makes his way to the back wall where he knows there is a small window open at all times, just large enough to allow his bird form entrance whenever he wishes to. It purposely gives him and easy access to the castle without having to deal with any of the guards that are terrified of his presence.
The window leads directly to the war-room which for the time being is empty. Lukas changes shape quickly, ignoring his injuries and the aches of his body. He throws a glance at the large table that takes up most of the space in the room. The latest tactical map over the Kingdom is pinned to the wood, complete with small figurines to represent all their active troops and their last official positions and the known movements of the rebel army. There are a few changes since the last time he was here, but not much worth taking note of.
As he walks past the table on his way towards the door and knocks over the figurines that represents what used to be his squadron of men in the north as he passes by. They will have to be removed from the map either way, but there is something satisfying about seeing the tiny figurines tumble over in a mocking display of defeat.
Just outside the door, he almost runs into a servant who gasps in surprise at the sight of him and knocks over and entire bucket of water that spill across the floor. She practically throws herself on her need immediately after, with her head down and eyes locked on Lukas' feet. "I am so sorry my lord," she says weakly, her voice wavering from fear. "None of us expected you to return this soon or we would have been better prepared, I swear."
"It is of no consequence," he says as he sidesteps the puddle of water, already on his way further down the hallway.
She hesitantly looks up at him through her lashes as he passes her, anxiousness practically radiating off her as she hunches her shoulders to appear smaller. Only when he has walked past does she breathe out a sigh of relief, clearly having expected him to lash out in anger in some way.
It is a sad truth that most of the servants in the castle are scared of their employer and rightfully so. The King is known to be temperamental and his councilors no better. He knows this better than anyone else, and for some reason he decides to take pity on this particular servant. "Just make sure this is cleared up before any of the guards can take notice of this mess."
"Thank you my lord," she says meekly, already reaching for a rag to begin mopping up the water from the floor. "I will not forget your kindness."
He is about to leave, thoroughly done with the conversation, but he girl seems to have found some courage and makes a hesitant sound to make him wait just a little longer. "Are you sure you should meet his Highness in your current state. I mean…" She begins stuttering and gestures vaguely in the direction of Lukas' clothes which are torn, dirty and bloody. "I seem your journey here was a rough one. It will only take me a few minutes to get somebody that can prepare you some hot water and fresh clothes."
Lukas is regretting his decision to not just brush past the girl and leave her terrified in the hallway. He does not have the energy to pretend that he cares in any way about the servants, it will not do anybody any good, especially not them. Their lives are nothing in the grand scheme of things and simply not worth the trouble.
This girl should also know that it is foolish to expect any form of kindness from him or any of the other counselors and nobles moving abut the castle. The pay might be good in the castle, but the staff is easily replaced should they make any mistakes. Nobles and highborn people are fickle creatures, likely to dismiss and punish staff at any perceived slight to their person or even just because their mood is foul, and they wish to see somebody else suffer to make themselves feel better.
"I have orders to report to the King immediately upon my return," Lukas replies curtly, noticing how her expression falls at the cold tone of his voice. "I have delayed long enough already and you should focus on your other tasks." It might hurt her now to be dismissed in such a way, but it is for her own good to see him as a cold-blooded commander that only cares for his loyalty to the King.
He turns on his heel and moves down the hallway leading into the heart of the castle without another glance back. He should clean up his appearance, but it gives him some joy to track mud and blood through the King's precious castle and blame the King for his orders that demand he report immediately rather than take the time to clean up and look presentable enough for court. It is a tiny act of rebellion on his part, but it is sometimes worth the look of disgust it draws from the King.
The guards outside the throne room are quick to open the doors without a single word of protest or asking if he is expected when they realize it is him. They even bow deeply as he strides past, keeping their eyes on the floor, either in fear or respect. Lukas does not care which on it is. The guards leave him alone and limit their conversations to a minimum which is a blessing all on its own.
The King and a few of his councilors are in the middle of a meeting, but promptly go silent when they hear the main doors creak open, a few of them look insulted to be interrupted, but Lukas does not care about their petty pride. He makes his way into the room, past the long table where all the councilors are seated, not offering them a single glance of acknowledgement in the process. He only stops when he reaches the King's seat and does his customary bow before settling down on one knee to appear shorter than the King, ready to give his report.
The King glares down at Lukas, his expression shifting into disgust and then rage as he takes in the appearance of his commander and realizes he is not bringing good news. "I had not expected your return quite so soon," he says, voice so cold it could make flowers wilt in expectance of winter. "And I certainly did not expect you to return looking like this!" He waves his hand in Lukas' direction to emphasize his generally disheveled appearance with torn and bloodstained clothing.
King Arthur 2. might not look very intimidating where he sits dressed in fine silks and looking far younger than most of his councilmen, but everybody present squirms in their seats looking like they would rather be anywhere else but this room.
"Tell me what happened!" the King demands angrily. His hands are curled into fists on the table and his knuckles are steadily turning white from the force of it. The temperature of the room seems to have plummeted and the candles on the table flicker precariously.
Lukas can feel the markings on his chest burn as the King put magic in his words to activate the spell. He has gotten somewhat used to the feeling in his years under the spell, but it still hurts every time the King uses it against him and forces his body to follow through with his commands. "The rebels have defeated your armies north of Aeston," Lukas replies. His voice comes out flat and emotionless, beyond his control. "I made my escape when the rebels intended to have me executed and I returned here to make my report."
"Tell me, just how did simple rebels manage to defeat my army?" the king demands.
"Surprise attack," Lukas says, almost biting his tongue as he strains to control the exact words that leave his mouth. There would be some serious consequences if he was to slip up and tell the King that he was the one that allowed the rebels to creep close enough to go through with the surprise attack to begin with. "They send in someone to release ours horses and sent them rampaging through our camp before we had a chance to mobilize."
The King is glaring at him in a way that would have any other man cowering, but Lukas has faced the King's anger countless times. There is little the King can do to scare him any longer, Lukas had nothing left to lose.
"Half of our men were trained to fight from horseback and not from the ground," Lukas continues steadily. "They were I'll equipped for a fight on the ground and playing defenders."
"I believed you capable of setting up a camp and manage it in such a way that an ambush was impossible!" The King's face is turning a dangerous shade of red as his voice echoes through the room as he stands up to scream proper. "You are supposed to be one of the best tacticians in this entire kingdom and you let a group of farmers and nobodies annihilate an entire regiment of highly trained soldiers!"
"I apologize, your grace," Lukas replies, not meaning a single word, but he does bow his head in a perfect image of subservience. "I know you expected better of me." That part is true, but Lukas was only told to go out there and gather supplies from the outskirt villages and deal with the rebel forces. The King never specified how exactly to deal with them, and so Lukas was liberal in his interpretation on that particular order.
"Of course I expected better!" The King screams and in his rage he flings out an arm, flinging a pitcher of wine from the table, sending it and the contents crashing to the floor. "Our Kingdom is on the brink of war and you somehow manage to fuck up what should have been a simple task!"
Lukas refrains from mentioning that there will not be much of a kingdom left if the King continues robbing his own people. There are many of the villages in the eastern and northern regions that have already burnt down, and the rest of them are left to slowly starve to death come winter.
The only evidence they have to support the claim that their Kingdom is in any way under the threat of war is a few dubious reports of increased military activity along their southern borders. There have been no confirmed attacks, no missing villagers, no angry messages from their neighbors, but still the King felt the threat and decided to take every measure to protect what he deemed most important.
They sent out so called tax-collectors soon after that, but it quickly devolved into blatant robbery after the first few villages.
The eastern outskirt was the first to fall, and with so many people standing without a means of feeding themselves and their families, people began turning on each other for the meagre supplies that remained. Villages began fighting other villages and as things currently stand, the entire province is on the verge of a civil war.
Nobody dared stand up against the soldiers until the incident in Griven, and word of the rebellion spread throughout the western province after that, like a wildfire and encouraging people to fight back. It will not take long before people in other provinces might catch on the same idea. With the success the rebel force has had so far, it is giving people hope that they might be able to win against the soldiers.
Trouble is coming for the Capital from almost every direction and the King is feeling the pressure.
It is only a matter of time before the turmoil that is still only felt in the outskirt villages and towns will reach the larger cities closer to the Capital. When that day comes, the King will have a fight on his hands to convince even his most loyal supporters that he is a capable leader. He might find himself with a revolt within city walls.
The room is deadly quiet. The King stares at Lukas in silence for several long moments, clenching and unclenching his fists as he apparently struggles to remain in control of his reaction. "I want to have a few words with my commander," the King says loudly. "Alone!"
Almost immediately a dozen chairs screeches against the floor as every single councilmember in the room makes their escape and the door slams shut not long after that.
Lukas remains frozen in his crouched position on the floor, watching from the corner of his eye as the King moves closer to stand only inches away from him and waits in silence.
"I have to say that I am quite disappointed with you right now," the King says icily. "What will I have to do to make sure that something like this will not happen again?"
Lukas still does not move from his spot. This is not the first time he has been in this sort of situation, and it will not be his last. He knows what is coming and does not flinch when the King pushes aside the fabric of his torn shirt to bare the markings on his chest, but it never gets any easier. He feels his skin itch under the King's gaze, and he suppresses the urge to shudder.
"Perhaps this will teach you a lesson," the King hisses and his hands begins glowing. There is a faint green mist forming at the tips of his fingers and Lukas prepares himself for the pain that will come once the King begins to manipulate the branding on his skin and weave in new commands with his existing ones.