Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  Additionally, there were only two Khasari in the patrol. It wouldn’t do much good pleading for help to soldiers who would need to come to terms with an incredibly short life span measured in seconds. So, he had played along with their ruse, that they were merchants travelling back from Verni.

  Levi had been talkative enough, when the Elsgard asked her questions. It seemed she had made her mind up that since both Tyrellia and the Black Wolves had abandoned her, she had nothing to lose by speaking freely to the Yaleans. Being part of a Pack meant that she knew very little of the inner workings of Tyrellia, and in that she was not alone. They had learnt that Reilek had served as a Black Wolf longer than the time he had spent in the Elsgard, surprising no one. It did make Kiern ask the question that Rhen wanted to ask himself: how did Reilek join in the first place?

  The answer was that a contact had reached out to Reisch many years ago, with information of a skilled tracker from the north-west of Yalea who had found themselves on the wrong side of the law. Having fled to the territories, he offered his services under a new name to anyone with coin. He found his way through the Sons and joined the Elsgard, having sworn to fight against Karzark to repent for his crimes. When Rhen asked about the contact, Reisch simply said that she had died soon afterwards, though suspicion came purely with hindsight. How he knew Yaren supposedly for years was something that Rhen knew more than we do.

  And apart from Levi explaining how the Black Wolves had been stalking them and knew of each of their habits and the unflattering nicknames Reilek had given them before they had ever met, rather unsettlingly, she wasn’t of much use. She had grown up in a small village somewhere in the north of Tyrellia, had never travelled outside of it until she became a Black Wolf. Cold, hard, miserable; they were the three words she used to explain her village. She knew very little of what the rest of Tyrellia was like. The Calamity that tore Cerenea apart all those hundreds of years ago had done extremely well in keeping the four nations out of reach of each other.

  The rain had stopped overnight, and the warm, weak winter sun had dried the roads as much as it could, giving them an easy end to their journey. The feeling of damp still lingered in his boots, but the Karzarki highways kept the worst of the mud and puddles away out to the rolling hills that dotted the landscape. As the road twisted around the last of the hills, the domineering Citadel came into full view. How. How did the Elders build this? How did Yelia grant mankind permission to make something so huge, so challenging to the primacy of the Goddess? How did we…take this? It was huge. Far beyond any city west of the Desari.

  Rhen decided they had technically entered Rulven after passing through the giant archway that towered over the southern road they had been travelling on since Verni. There were six Khasari posted on the archway as lookouts, for they had the height to look miles down the road and observe the traffic coming in and out of the city.

  The archway, unlike Mhir, maintained a statue of the Euphyrian eagle. However, as a clear message to the Euphyrian populace of the city, the eagle hung by a rope upside down. This city, the archway said, was in Karzark’s hands.

  Surrounding the archway was the urban sprawl of those unable to reside within the walls. Dirt roads branched off from the Karzarki-paved highway, winding through a motley collection of wooden huts, tents and market stalls. This irked Rhen, not because of the poverty – he had seen worse in Mhir and Braest – but because he knew that Rulven was a Citadel that once hosted a population far greater than the shadow it was now. He had talked to enough merchants to know there was enough accommodation to fit everyone inside the walls, which meant that people living outside the walls were there not through necessity, but by design.

  Yet, despite this, the poor of Rulven seemed less pitiful than their brethren in other towns and cities. True, their clothes were plain and dirty, and many seemed unwashed, but they seemed to lack the despair he saw in the eyes of those in Mhir. Conspiciously, he failed to see more than a couple beggers on the streets. For a city the size of Rulven, he expected more. Overall, the residents of the sprawl seemed…content. This balanced his first impression of the Citadel, and it gave him hope that Euphyria could return to prosperity after assimilating into the empire.

  Putting aside these thoughts, this was the first time since leaving Mhir they had visited a place that was unequivocally under Karzark’s rule. Karzarki banners were unfurled down the massive sandstone walls, which had a noticeably large garrison patrolling along it. He wondered with such presence how it was that the smaller towns such as Bridgetown and Verni were prone to rebel incursions.

  When they arrived at the main gate - a giant construct wide enough for ten horses abreast - they were stopped by several guards who had finished inspecting the contents of an old woman’s basket before allowing her inside the walls.

  Reisch quietly said to Rhen, “Remember, your fate is the same as ours. Get us inside in one piece.” They always had to remind him, and it was starting to get on his nerves. He knew damn well by now he didn’t have any other choice.

  The guards approached their cart, with Rhen now being the sole passenger. The others, on Reisch’s instruction, were to be walking alongside it, making it clear to the guards that Rhen was in command of the caravan.

  “Afternoon to you all. Where are you coming from?”

  “We’ve just come by Verni, sir,” said Rhen, in the clear tongue of his homeland.

  “Ah, you’re a Karzarki aren’t you? I can tell by your lack of accent. What are you doing over here in these parts?”

  “Sent by my father. I am supposed to pick up a shipment of…” Rhen hadn’t really thought this through. He’d had days to work out some simple story, his mind had been preoccupied. Think, damn it. “Wine.”

  The guard seemed surprised. “Wine? From Euphyria? You must be doing business with some dingy inns back home then, lad. I’d rather drink of cup of sludge from the Rodai Wastes myself.”

  “Ah, well, even the poor like a drink.”

  “No matter, but I need to see some documentation for the export of wine. Can’t have you flooding the market with cheap piss.”

  Oh, merciful Yelia. Why did he pick wine? From the corner of his eye he saw Kiern loosen a dagger from his sleeve into his hand. This was going to get ugly. “Uh, documentation…right. Well, actually I was supposed to have a cart of wine on me from Mhir. The good Karzarki stuff. But just outside Verni we were ambushed. They left us with nothing. No wine, no documents. Here, look at my arm. I’m lucky to be alive.” If you sprinkled some truth amongst the lies, you could appear much more confident.

  “You were ambushed…”. The guard gave Rhen a quick look-over and made a face as though he had heard this one before. He turned to another guard and locked eyes for a second. The second guard put his hand on his sword and started looking around the cart.

  “Yes, sir. We had the cart stocked of Karzarki wine for some customers here with a finer taste. Those that wouldn’t be seen dead with the shite the Euphyrians drink.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “About an hour north of Verni, we were ambushed by ei-er…six or so rebels. They all had tattoos on them.”

  “Where did they have these tattoos?”

  “Excuse me?” Did they have some meaning behind them? Where they tattooed themselves…what was the answer he was looking for?

  “Their chest, sir,” Reisch cut in, spitting on the ground and surprising Rhen with his fluency in Karzarki, “They took a good few of us with them.” A half-truth from Reisch, rich in a thick Euphyrian accent, he noticed. Even so, Rhen was glad he hadn’t assumed he was the only one that could speak Karzarki.

  “Their chests…” Rhen could feel his body tensing. The guard took an eternity before continuing. “Yes, the Salencia bastards have been more active recently. We’re going to be increasing our presence around here soon, don’t you worry. Once the other three legions arrive, we’ll be able to flush them out of their burrows for good. Still, it’s hard on us. The cowards use our Hera
n against us.”

  “Yes, after what they did to my men here, and what they did to my hand, I’d like to see them face justice as much as you. Utterly barbaric.” After being paraded about the inns of Bridgetown and Verni, it felt good to have some retribution, little as it was. He turned to see Kiern’s I’ll-get-you-later-for-this face.

  “Rest assured, the rebels won’t be acting so audaciously soon. Regardless, I will need to document your arrival before I let you in.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  “Your port of origin, Mhir?”

  “Yes, Mhir.”

  “And you were travelling with a cart full of wine, destined for Rulven?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Who was this delivery for?”

  Oh no. Rulven was a big place, but only nobles would take large orders of Karzarki wine. He’d know if he gave a name that wasn’t a lord currently in Rulven. “It was for…”

  “Farrel Reiyar, sir. I’ll never forgive the bastard for docking me two months’ pay for kissing his daughter. Had I known she was his daughter, I’d be two months’ wage richer now,” Reisch cut in again, in his Euphyrian accent, “If it wasn’t for losing some of my men, I can’t say I’d be too upset his wine was stolen.”

  “Yes, well, you Euphyrians aren’t famed for your decision making. Anyway,” he said as he turned back to Rhen, “last bit of information I need. Your name.”

  Rhen hesitated for a moment. How easily could they find a fake name? How long were they going to stay in Rulven? Kiern decided it was his turn to butt in, speaking Euphyrian, picking up on Rhen’s concern. “It’s alright, sir. These aren’t rebels you’re talking to anymore. You can give them your real name this time. They’re honourable Khasari.” Kiern sounded like he was going to choke on the last few words.

  “What did he say?” asked the guard who seemed to have no love for anything Euphyrian.

  “He said I can trust the Khasari, now that we are out of reach of the rebels. Rhen Tallesen, sir.” Your fate is the same as ours.

  Another guard picked up on his name. “Rhen Tallesen? You’re from Braest aren’t you?”

  So close… “Yes, I am.”

  “I’m from Braest myself. Your family knows how to make a crust or two. I’ve seen the fliers your father has put out, looking for you. Nice reward for you, too. Says you’ve been missing for months.”

  The only reason Rhen could think of as to why his father would do such a thing after conceiving this whole damned adventure was that he could not tell his mother about it and had elected to say he was missing rather than the truth. Or not. He would think about this later. For now, there was a guard awfully suspicious of him fully armed.

  “Oh, that would be my brother.”

  “You did say Rhen though, didn’t you?” A hint of suspicion arose in his voice that was not missed by the other guards.

  “Ah. I see your confusion. My brother is Rhenias. I am Rhenier. My apologies, I always just go by Rhen.” There was a long, agonising pause. Rhen held his breath, praying that the heartbeat pounding his ears wasn’t as audible to the guards.

  “Ah, I see. I pray his journey has come about with no foul play and that he returns home to Karzark safely,” said the guard with an honest face; a good soldier who indeed cared for his countrymen. The irony that foul play had indeed come about on his journey, and that standing here lying to someone that could help him was not lost on Rhen.

  “As do I. I hope nothing bad has happened to him. We have all been praying to Yelia that he finds his way home safely. The roads have been quite dangerous these past months.”

  “Right, that’s all I need from you. You’re holding up the line. You may enter the city. Take this and don’t lose it,” he said, passing them an envelope. “Have a good day. Next time, spare us a bottle of wine,” said he other guard.

  “Will do, friend.” And they were off into the city.

  When they were out of earshot, Kiern had to ask, “You have a brother?”

  “Only child,” said Rhen, still trying to calm himself down.

  “Oh. Well, they’ll figure that one out eventually. Hopefully once we’ve left.”

  -------------------------------------

  Kiern

  After the Conquest, Euparyen had inherited the more populated region of Parasen. Their greatest citadels were passed onto the Euparyen vanquishers. The successors did not let these citadels crumble. They used the roads that had always existed, they tilled the same fields their predecessors had, and the old blood mixed with the new. If any of the Youngers could claim to be the successor state to Parasen, it was Euparyen.

  Yalea, on the other hand, had inherited a land that was both Parasen and Galacaen. It was more sparsely populated than the Euparyen regions, but it gave birth to a tough breed of people. Tribalism had always been part of Yalean identity since the beginning. Few large cities meant more distance between each town and fiercer rivalries between them. During the reign of the Elders, it was a frontier where they waged a war against nature herself. The mixing of Galacean and Parasen culture however, had given Yalea its own identity that separated it from the other Youngers.

  Nalacata of Yelusia, End of an Era

  And this citadel that stood before Kiern was made of no such mixing. Rulven was the biggest city he had ever seen. He had been to Yulesa before; that was big, and though it was technically a citadel in the historical records according to Yalean historians, Rulven was a citadel in every sense of the word. The towering stone walls alone guaranteed that no one would take this city without a long, protracted siege, and if his memory served him well, the Euparyen defenders held on for several years before capitulating on the condition that they were to be given free passage out.

  Rulven was a glimpse into the glory days of old Parasen. The Youngers could not hope to create such a feat of engineering, even after centuries of history slowly revealing its secrets. The walls alone stood higher than the tallest buildings in Yelusa. The masonry capable of such an undertaking had long since disappeared from the world. Yet even so, Rulven’s walls were dwarfed by the size of many a monument. It humbled him to know that all these buildings stood for centuries before anyone had heard of Euparyen, and it must have left an even greater impression on the Euparyen psyche, to live in the shadows of unattainable greatness and kneel before modesty. Whatever power a man craves, whatever height he hopes to reach, he will turn to dust before the legacy of Paresen is eclipsed.

  To their credit, the Euparyen had been good caretakers. Considering themselves successors, they preserved and repaired their heritage, just as a father passed his name to his son.

  This city was ancient, and the Euparyens had honoured it, as was asked by their faith in The Wrath. The towering walls were enough to make any attacker think twice. There were wooden guard towers that populated most street corners, manned by the Khasari garrison, keeping an eye on the citizenry that once would have manned the walls themselves, fighting off their now oppressors. With the right spark, Kiern thought, perhaps they still might, seeing all of their proud ink on display.

  He wondered how it was that Karzark had managed to lure the Euparyen armies onto the battlefield when they had such well-fortified cities, but he wasn’t a keen historian, and what’s done was done. He needed to focus on the now, and the now was ‘making a delivery’ to Farrel Reiyar - a contact that Reisch allegededly made last time he visited Rulven.

  Walking through the streets offered him many a sight that would strike awe into the heart of many a town-dweller. The whole Citadel seemed to have cobbled streets, worn down over the centuries. Some of the houses seemed larger and more extravagant that the best taverns he’d visited in his travels. The amount of people going about their daily lives in their hustle and bustle, shouting over the top of one another felt like an entire town had assembled on a single street corner. And as a new sight to Kiern, he saw noble men and women of Karzark with their elegant, bright dress – a stark contrast to the poor outside the walls.
He had never seen the apparel of the Karzarki elite; they were not the kind of people to be seen in the towns and villages that waxed and waned between the influence of the Khasari and the Sons. He hated the fact that he thought the Karzarki clothing was perhaps the nicest he had ever seen. That wasn’t to say there were no well-to-do Euparyen around, however they kept their dress to a modest degree, employing a single colour garment compared to their Karzarki neighbours – perhaps a conscious choice, perhaps a decree.

  Lastly, the Citadel’s location helped it maintain its superiority in the minds of citizens and visitors alike. The mountain range, though small compared to the likes of the Myrians and others, was still an imposing barrier into the heartland of Euparyen. An invading army would first need to take the city, and then choose between heading north or south Karzark had of course done just that, first taking the city and then marching north. Kiern had heard that this was one reason why Yukone was able to prevent the peninsula from falling; the additional time had been used effectively. And if Kiern tried really hard to remember his history lessons, in Parasen’s day Rulven too would have been afforded additional time to protect both the northern and southern passages by being alerted by the Citadel now lost to the Desari.

  The Citadel of Rulven itself was built upon a small number of hills, which meant that from any gate you entered you would find yourself slowly walking upwards, whether it be a gentle curve or a set of stairs. This made the buildings appear larger than they were, though this was hardly a necessary addition as they were already huge constructs in their own right. This particular set of stairs was on a gentle slope which at the top revealed a mix both large, institutional buildings, as well as residential housing. Some, despite their size, were incredibly worn down. Abandoned and empty, Karzark made living inside the walls a privelige that was earned rather than given, regardless of supply. So much for their just rule.