Ash straightened up, smiled, and tapped the floor with the staff.
“Friends, we’re in a cursed castle,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Chapter 18
“O h, well, that’s fuc—” Blackbeard began, but was shut up by Lari who stuffed a bun into his mouth. When the rest of the group looked at him in bewilderment, he spread his arms and shrugged. “I always keep a couple on me for cases like these,” he said. Whatever was needed to keep little Alice’s mind clean of filth, he told himself.
Mary rubbed her temples and decided to take control of the situation before her guys started a fight, which happened more often than she was willing to admit. “Calm down, guys, we’re going to the feast.”
“We are?!” Lari shouted. He wasn’t a coward, but he didn’t like things he didn’t understand. And this castle and its inhabitants were just that.
“We are,” Mary confirmed with a nod. “As Ash said, we must become a part of whatever’s going on here.”
An oppressive and somewhat frightening silence fell on the group. Lari suddenly grabbed a corner table, throwing all the gold and silver off it, and swung it at one of the stained-glass windows. The glass didn’t so much as get scratched, but the table exploded into a shower of splinters.
Both the Stumps and the trio looked at him in horror.
“It was worth a try,” he said and shrugged.
“Don’t break things that aren’t yours!” Mary hissed, calculating just how much the marquis would charge them if he discovered that one of his mahogany tables had been destroyed. “You’ll pay for it out of your coin purse!”
“All right, all right...”
The group headed in search of the dining room. The trio, supporting one another, slipped away somewhere upstairs. However, this didn’t worry about the experienced adventurers. Mary, back when she was still green and inexperienced, led her team into the mines once, where they spent an entire week under the endless onslaught of gremlins and kobolds (the damn, vile creatures). Compared to that, this was a picnic!
Blackbeard and Tul were betting one another who’d eat more food. Lari, shielding Alice, held his scabbard in front of him and kept looking around as if he was expecting one of the decorative armors to come to life and attack them.
Ash, whistling to himself, was simply looking around, noticing even the smallest of details such as chinks in the masonry and cracks on carefully polished wood. For some reason, he felt like he was missing something, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the curse itself that was messing with his mind, or maybe it was something else.
Turning the corner, they found themselves in front of large oak doors from behind which the sounds of music, dance, laughter, and the clinking of expensive cutlery could be heard.
Ash winked at the group, lifted his staff like a lance, and swung. Just as he was about to hit the door, it swung open and the majordomo, dressed in a black doublet with a fashionable puffy collar, walked out to greet them. His eyes met Ash’s. The young mage lowered his staff with an awkward smile and waved a greeting.
The majordomo arched his right eyebrow and cleared his throat.
“How do I introduce you, dear guests?”
“The Stray Stumps,” Mary replied sternly.
The majordomo gave her an unpleasant, haughty look but didn’t protest despite Mary being a woman. The norm was that the male of the highest rank spoke, but since there was no such man in the Stumps, they let Mary do all the talking. And even if there had been, Ash doubted that Mary would let them speak instead of her out of fear that they’d say something stupid that end up with them being banished to another kingdom.
Adjusting the collar that covered almost the entire length of his chin, the majordomo turned to the hall.
“Please welcome our guests— Settle down, people!” he shouted. However, he wasn’t able to overpower the hubbub or the music emanating from the small stage next to the western wall that consisted entirely out of panoramic windows. “The Stray Stumps!”
Those who heard him clapped, but most of the guests didn’t pay attention to the newcomers, being too busy with gossip and food. Ignoring the lukewarm welcome, the group went inside and just barely managed to contain their gasps of surprise.
The huge hall was filled with guests. At long tables, laden with various viands, sat, stood, and even lay an insane amount of the most diverse audience. One could see a baron lying face first in a bowl of mash potatoes, his arm around the waist of a laughing maid flirting with a drunken old man adorned with count regalia. In the corner, the bride, her hand under the table, was whispering into the ear of the blushing groom. Fakirs and fire breathers in the center of the hall were performing their acts, surrounded by dancers wielding colorful ribbons. At each table was a jester, lifting the mood with vulgar jokes and simple tricks.
All around were people celebrating and dancing joyfully to the tunes of the minstrels who were playing as if their lives depended on it. All sorts of melodies could be heard coming from the bagpipes, lutes, flutes, and trumpets, but most common were those of the North.
The majordomo led the group to one of the long tables and whispered something into Mary’s ear. The girl just nodded reluctantly.
“Amazing,” Lari whispered in astonishment, his wariness vanishing the moment he laid his eyes upon the succulent meat seasoned with an exquisite sauce of porcini mushrooms and sour cream.
They all stared at these culinary delights with hungry eyes and drooling mouths. Such a feast couldn’t be seen in the most expensive taverns about which, sadly, they knew about only through stories of those who had visited them. Perhaps one day they’d have enough coin to go and see if those stories were true.
“Cursed castle or not... This is good grub,” Blackbeard grumbled through his mouth full of porridge, baked potatoes with bay leaves, and juicy mutton with pickled mushrooms. He chased it all down with a goblet full of semi-sweet, red wine.
“Aye!” Lari nodded, enthusiastically chewing a duck in honey sauce, stuffed with apples.
Tul wasn’t lagging behind the two, stuffing his face with pork and beef at an incredible speed. Not bothering himself with following the etiquette, he held a stake by the bone, spraying fat and juices around. Alice and Mary did their best to behave, cutting their food into manageable pieces, but it was obvious that they would’ve plunged their teeth into the meat had they been given a chance.
Ash was watching the dancing couples as he ate, observing the ladies dressed in a variety of fancy dresses. From the old-fashioned bell-shaped gowns and corsets to the more modern silhouettes that clung to the skin, with long sleeves, the edges of which oftentimes touched the ground. Men wore traditional coats, so dull and alike that it was hard to tell them apart.
His gaze stopped at the main table, placed on an elevated platform so that it stood out from all the rest. The people sitting there seemed in their own world, one separate from the reality that was happening around them.
There was the marquis, a tall, young man with a strong chin and pitch-black hair. Next to him was the baroness, a young woman with thick, wavy hair the color of chestnut, framing her high cheekbones and emphasizing the whiteness of her lovely skin. Under the slightly arched, thin brows were lively brown eyes in the depths of which one could easily get lost. Full lips were smiling lovely, and their beauty was only made more obvious by the dimples on her cheeks. There was no doubt that many poems had been written to honor her beauty, and that her lovely smile stole many a heart.
Even now, many of the gentlemen from the crowd looked at the happy couple with envy. Their drunken eyes were too focused on the baroness for them to notice the girl sitting to the right of the couple. The marquis’s sister, beautiful in her own right, was laughing along with the other guests, chattering merrily and restlessly, mesmerizing all those who’d listen to her with her velvety voice.
“Ash, wanna try a chicken leg in cheese sauce?” Blackbeard asked, shoving a plate of meat and vegetab
les under the mage’s nose. Feeling that it wasn’t becoming any lighter, he tore his gaze off his plate and stared at the empty chair next to him. “This... can’t be good,” he muttered to himself and turned to the others. “Guys, he wandered off again.”
“There he is!” Alice burst out laughing, pointing toward the crowd of dancers.
“I’ll kill him, I swear I will,” Mary whined in frustration, hiding her face in her hands.
Ash was having fun dancing with the crowd, his staff seemingly floating behind his back, as if it was being held there by some sort of an invisible hand.
To say that Ash was a decent dancer would be an overstatement. Holding a bottle of rum in his hand and absolutely deaf to the melody being played, he flailed his arms and legs like a puppet on very loose strings. Laughing merrily, he shamelessly grabbed a lady who had been unlucky enough to be near him. Her drunken suitors tried to catch up with the ill-mannered mage, but whenever they’d approach him, he’d mysteriously appear on the other side of the hall. Dressed in his torn pants, sandals, and a plain shirt, he looked more like a jester than anything else.
“To think that we accepted him into our squad,” Mary wailed, hoping that there was no one they knew present in the hall.
They were already subject of four ballads, each of which would be a source of pride for any group leader, but not for Mary, who preferred to keep a low profile. Ash, the idiot, didn’t bother to keep their coat of arms out of sight as he danced and made a fool out of himself.
Unfortunately for Mary, her suffering didn’t end there. When the musicians finally took a break, and the dancers started retreating to their tables to catch their breath, a drunken voice shook the hall.
“A toast!”
Mary was about to get up and leap at Ash, but Tul and Lari held her back. When the mage, waving the bottle, jumped on a table, she almost fainted from horror. She would remember this, and she would make Ash pay the price for making an ass out of her entire squad.
“A toast!” the mage exclaimed, raising his bottle. “For the newlyweds!”
“Toast, toast, toast!” repeated the drunken crowd, banging with their fists and feet.
Smiling, Ash caught the stern gaze of the marquis’s mother. He couldn’t help wonder where the duke was. Probably in a dark corner, having fun with some lovely lady...
The duchess smiled tightly and nodded.
“Tonight,” Ash began, walking with his arms outstretched, casually stepping over dishes and heads laid upon the table. “We’ve gathered here to honor this lovely couple! I’ve no doubt that everyone knows about the courage of the Marquis of Soya!”
The crowd cheered and clapped, some even mentioned stories about hunts and balls, at which the marquis demonstrated his other “skills.” The young man blushed and looked anxiously at his wife, but she pretended not to hear these remarks.
“There’s no one, and I mean no one, as beautiful as the baroness... Pardon, the Marquise D’Lamani! No, hold on... The Marchioness of Soya!”
The crowd roared and clapped louder, while Ash observed as the duchess’s face grew gloomier with every word. Each kingdom had a handful of dukes, and about a dozen marquises. She didn’t like it that her daughter-in-law was getting close to snatching her title.
“I have visited many countries,” he continued, addressing the crowd. “On the hills of Amarian I found a fairy imprisoned in a tower! Lost in the Crystal Forest, I danced with the elven princess! On the Amadeus Mountains, I shared a bottle of wine with the Lamia of the Air. And let me tell you, none of those fine ladies can compare to any of you! Oh, gentlemen, you don’t know how lucky you are to be sitting next to these wingless angels...”
The guests burst out laughing loud; some even wiped tears from the corners of their eyes as they held onto their bellies, which, full of laughter and fine food, threatened to burst through their vests and shirts.
“To beauty!” Ash said, raising his bottle, and turned back to the newlyweds. “So that when our friend the marquis grows old and forgets what tightness in the trousers feels like and the only sound he can produce is a fart,” the tipsy ladies joined in on the laughter, “he doesn’t forget that he had married the most beautiful woman in all the kingdom!”
Tossing back his ragged cloak, Ash bowed deeply and emptied the contents of his bottle. Following his example, the guests rose from their seats and, bowing to the lovely couple, emptied their goblets and mugs. Music started again, the newlyweds kissed under a thunder of applause, and soon everything returned to how it was before Ash’s interruption.
Only one person looked like they were attending a funeral and not a wedding. And it wasn’t Mary, who was still hiding her face in her hands, but a figure in the far end of the hall who observed as the mage returned to chasing skirts and drinking rum.
It wasn’t for nothing that the elves had banished him from the Crystal Forest, forbidding him to return under the threat of immediate execution.
Chapter 19
O ne restless night later
Ash, with the skill of a seasoned burglar, removed himself from the arms of a buxom lady with delicate, slender arms that beckoned for him to return into their embrace. Looking closer, Ash realized that he had spent the night with the marquis’s sister.
“Interesting,” he thought, smelling elusive, but the rather familiar smell coming from the lady’s gentle skin. “Very interesting... And where the hell are my pants?!”
31st of Gremi, 318 A.D., Somewhere on the eastern border of the Middle Kingdom
Ash stood on a platform, watching the parade grounds. Today, the last batch of future legionaries was to be brought to this godforsaken dump. Many would oppose calling his men soldiers, but Ash didn’t care that the barracks were filled with ex-prisoners and convicts. To him, they were his men. He kept calling them his Legion.
The streets were deserted; the sun hadn’t yet risen over the Helma Mountains, so the people were still lost in their valleys of dreams. Some would say that this was bad leadership, as having everyone be asleep meant that no one was guarding the outpost, but they’d be wrong.
Upon joining the Seventh Legion, new members were given black, spiked collars. If one dared so much as to think about starting a riot or escaping, or, God forbid, attacking the lieutenant, their heads would pop like ripe grapes, leaving behind nothing other than a charred neck. This was the solution proposed by the court Enchanters to make sure that the convicts behaved, which was unanimously accepted.
Little did they know that this would be the least of their problems.
When they arrived here, there had been only eight barracks with the capacity of two hundred people each. Now, his Legion counted four thousand men and one didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that something wasn’t right here. The construction began once the most rebellious and zealous of convicts were subdued by activating their collars, thus demonstrating to the rest that the command wasn’t fooling around. Having no time or material to build more barracks, the Legion opted for making simple tents and shelters. In the end, all four thousand men had a roof over their head, be that canopy or wood, it didn’t matter. Anything was better than the damp coldness of a cell.
And now, a month of training later, they were sending them another batch of prisoners that’d join the Legion. Ash was told that they were being sent from a copper mine that had undergone budget cuts and had to let some people go.
“Waiting for the newcomers?” Racker asked, stretching as he climbed onto the platform.
Turning, Ash saw the familiar gleam in his friend’s eyes. Racker, although he was well passed his twenty-seventh winter, was still much like a rebellious boy, ready to fight anyone and everything. Sometimes even without a reason.
“I am,” he replied.
Giving Ash a sneer, Racker summoned a chair. Like a wild horse, it burst out of the small shack that served as their headquarters, leaped across the parade grounds, and settled itself under the esteemed rear of the Lieutenant of the Seventh Legio
n.
“Want me to teach you?” he snickered, seeing Ash observing the chair. His face looked somehow swollen as if he had been drinking too much booze or had been stung by a bee. And even though Racker had a physique any sculptor would wish to immortalize in a statue, he had problems courting beauties he so much desired. His face caused much distress among the fearer sex, and even the brothels often wouldn’t accept his coin although he was willing to part with quite a large sum of it.
From the outpost of the Seventh Legion to the nearest town were seven miles, which didn’t take too long to cover on a good steed. So Racker went there every few days to satisfy his needs. Unfortunately, as Ash came to learn later, his lieutenant wasn’t a savage only on the battlefield but in bed, too. Because of this, he had been summoned to Gness several times, a city near the border in order to get Racker out of prison. He had to pay the owner of the brothel, the servicemen, who had beaten Racker black and blue, and the corporal in order to keep this case from never reaching the court.
The coin Ash had taken from the palace was enough to cover these expenses. In his opinion, Racker was worth it, as he was a powerful mage, a reliable person, and quite a humorous companion. It didn’t matter to the commander that his friend’s humor was blacker than coal, he enjoyed it.
Ash nodded. “Sure, teach me.”
Racker had just begun to explain to Ash the Word for “talking” to chairs and stools when several black dots appeared on the horizon, raising clouds of dust. Soon, the “fresh blood” arrived. That was how Racker called all the newcomers.
About a hundred and twenty armored spearmen arrived with a cargo of cages, each of which held within itself forty to fifty convicts. Ash counted about three hundred newcomers as he approached the corporal, a short man with an unpleasant face that was glistening with sweat. Around his shoulders was a coat of thick fur to keep him warm during these cold, winter nights. The Seventh Legion could only dream of such luxury. They were so poorly equipped that they slept in their gear and covered themselves with rags.
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 10
