by Ulysses Troy
“For some reason, I find that quite unbelievable,” Conrad muttered. After he was sure none of the men heard his muttering, he continued to speak. “I think it is not just the castle, but the forest too.”
“What are you saying, Ser Conrad? Please explain further.” Edmond said.
Conrad looked at the Baron’s face while riding his horse through the woods. “I saw someone like this man once, many years ago. He had the same strange attitude and a blank expression on his face. I didn’t know what it was but . . . I had one with me who knew what caused him to be like this. A kind of magic.”
“So, folk were right.”
“Maybe. It can also be a completely different thing.”
“So, Ser Conrad, you believe in the existence of magic?”
“Yes, you may say that.”
“Even though the Holy Temple speaks of the existence of the magic and its dangers, most of the nobility don’t believe in it. Even some religious ones, Ser. The Holy Texts say, ‘In the name of the Holy One, magic is cursed, like the one who uses it, and its first user is the devil himself.”‘
“The devil landed on earth and taught the infidel his sin. Uraliés-43.”
“Are you a religious person, Ser Conrad?” The Baron seemed to be surprised by Conrad’s answer.
“I do believe.” Conrad said. “Just not in the sayings of the Temple.”
“A man must hear what his heart says. In the old times, when the Temple had more power, we could lose our heads even because of this conversation.”
“Then let’s pray they won’t gain it again.” Conrad knew what the Baron was talking about, Fenhir had taught him about the history of the Temple. Many centuries ago, The Holy Temple had a power rivaling not Kingdoms, but the Empire of Carasson in the west. In those times, the lands of Baltaire were divide among the local nobles and had no king. The Holy Temple held the real power in those green and prosperous lands known as Baltaire now. Its gold reserves were endless, and it had formidable armies of thousands under its command. But after their unsuccessful crusade in the Second Alliance War, the Temple’s power greatly weakened, and the first king of Baltaire, Balthar de Beocur, delivered the final blow to its rule. The Temple lost its independence to the crown and now was only a mere reflection of its glorious and powerful past. A past that must stay dead.
“Sers, if these woods are really enchanted as they appear to be, perhaps we should inform the Templar Knights?” Merlon said. Like they would help us.
“I have seen how they handle things like this before, too. More than one time, and none worked.” Conrad said. And I am not sure if they can burn a whole forest as they did to her.
The Knights of the Temple were the stalwart defenders of the Holy Temple and the class of clergy. They would escort the pilgrims towards the holy lands, protect the priests and watch over the Holy Sites. Yet, just like the temple they served, they were living under the greater shadow of the past.
“We can’t call anybody for help anyway, as we don’t have time to do that,” Edmond said. “All we can do is be brave souls and advance towards the depths of the forest, in the hope of a victory.”
“Brave souls?” Merlon asked ironically, knitting his eyebrows.
“Yes.” Baron Edmond looked right into his servant’s eyes. “It is a thousand times better than being a coward.”
“My Baron, being a coward can save one’s life sometimes, especially in situations like these!”
“This life . . .” Edmond said. “ . . . is too valuable to fear it, Merlon, and history is written by cowards about the brave ones.” Leonard de Pelen’s famous quote. It surely looks as if the Baron likes to read.
“But my Baron . . .”
“Enough,” Edmond said instantly, and silenced his servant.
They rode some more in the forest, only to find a lake in the middle of it. Merlon was the first one to react to the scene, as always. “My Baron, all of this spice, it has made me thirsty!” He opened both of his hands to beg. “Please, let me drink from the lake!”
The clever servant of the Baron had brought a whole pack of meat cooked by the best of the kitchen of the tavern, yet he hadn’t thought of bringing some water to wash it down. “I think it would not hurt to rest here for some minutes,” Conrad said. “The horses need water too, and I would not reject it, either.”
Edmond nodded to him and directed his horse through the path to the lake. Overwhelmed with joy, Merlon stepped out with haste to drink from the fresh lake of blue that stood just in front of them.
Conrad approached the lake. It looked clear. Clear enough to drink from. So, all of them, including the horses, drank from the lake. After Merlon was done drinking, he turned to the other two.
“I don’t know about you but that much of drinking made me want to . . . pee.”
“What? You can’t be serious.” Conrad said, clearly surprised.
“But I am.” Then, he rushed toward some bushes.
“Well, we can rest until he returns, Ser Conrad,” Edmond said.
“Okay.” It seems as if there is no one nearby and it would not bring harm to rest for a few minutes.
***
Edmond was sitting in front of a tree with his back to it and examining his sword. He raised it in the air, watching how it shined under the light of the bright sun for a minute, then lowered it down again. I guess Gannadár is richer than I thought. It looks like Crimson Steel.
“That sword of yours, it looks really well-crafted,” Conrad said crouching down beside the Baron. He sat on a large pack of grass, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be wet.
“Thank you for your kindness, Ser. It is, indeed.” He held the sword towards Conrad to make it easier for him to see. “It belonged to my grandfather, Geoffrey de Gannát. He used to say it was made by a Carassoni Mastersmith who agreed to craft it for him after he had let him stay behind the walls of Gannadár for a year. When he got old, he gave it to my late father. I have been wielding it from the day I was knighted.”
“I thought you knighted yourself after you became the Baron, My Baron.” Merlon was trying too hard to not laugh. He had returned from behind the bushes just a minute before.
“Then you have to clear your mind, Merlon, because that is not true. I was knighted by a Holy Priest at the age of eighteen, one year ago, while my Grandfather was still alive and well.” He turned to Conrad. “Ser Conrad, Veron said you are very familiar with the steel; please, take a look at it.” He grabbed the hilt of his sword and gave it to him. Conrad took the sword from the Baron and examined it for a bit. Its hilt was decorated with Gannát’s red alphyn and the color of the steel was red under the sunlight, just like its hilt, displaying truly dazzling reflections.
“This is a work of a Mastersmith without doubt,” Conrad said. “I don’t have to get cut to say it is very effective. You are very lucky to have a sword like that, My Baron. Most of the Baltarian nobility don’t enjoy such a privilege, despite their masses of gold.”
“Yes Ser Conrad, I am. I hope I can give it some justice.”
“Does it have a name?” Conrad asked, giving the sword back to Edmond.
“Yes. My grandfather . . . he had a name for it. He named it Claudia, after . . . you know. But I had something else in mind.” Edmond looked at the sword’s crimson color as he raised it in the air. “I named it Honor, to remind myself why I am wielding it in the first place. To avoid forgetting the oaths I took as a Knight and what I dreamed I would use it for. For honor, Ser Conrad. Only and solely honor.”
“That’s . . . a noble cause my Baron.” Yet not so smart.
Edmond smiled, still looking at his sword. His eyes were shining in remembrance of the cause that he stood for. “Yes Ser Conrad, it is.”
After relaxing a bit near the lake, they continued their path towards the mysterious oak. Fresh winds from the north area of the forest were blowing towards them. It is a little cold, yet somehow comforting, Conrad thought, just before turning towards Merlon, who had just start
ed to talk.
“Ah!” He said, standing in front of a tree. “At least we are luckier than I thought! There are Orange Apples on that tree!” His happiness was clearly reflected in his voice.
Edmond turned towards the direction of the tree. He examined the orangish little balls on the tree a while, to see if the servant was right.
“Yes.” He approved Merlon. “I guess you are right, these appear to be Orange Apples, yet the tree looks nothing like a Seliuan.”
“Orange apples?” Conrad asked. “I don’t know if I ever heard . . .” He looked at the fruits Merlon was talking about . . . nor seen anything like this.”
“It’s a fruit endemic to the Sunmarine Islands, Ser Conrad,” The Baron said.
“And very tasty!” Merlon interfered. “But also expensive and rare, at least in Baltaire.”
“My Lady mother bought a few saplings many years ago when she was on a trip to the City of Molay, from an Islander,” Edmond explained. “We had a few trees in the courtyard of Gannadár, but unfortunately, they all strangely rotted away. I think because of the climate differences.”
“Well, it still looks pretty strange to me,” Conrad said.
“Just wait until tasting one, Ser Conrad; then you will become one of its fans too! Oh, it will be good to eat these fresh things again!” Merlon said as he examined the tree to calculate his chances. “Oh.” He said, turning to his lord. “My Baron, this tree is too tall for me, perhaps you could pick the apples instead of me. It would be much easier for you.”
The relationship between these two was unconventional, yet fun to watch. A servant who wants his Baron to pick fruit for himself to eat? I wonder what I am going to see next.
“If you want to pick the apples, then climb the tree yourself, Merlon!” Edmond said. “Maybe you can lose a few pounds that way, too.”
“Maybe you can lose a few pounds too.” Merlon mimicked Edmond’s words in a mocking tone.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing my Baron! I’d better start climbing!”
The fat servant came near the tree, to search for a suitable bough to start his climb. After a few seconds, he was able to find one thick enough to carry him. Merlon raised his arms and grabbed the bough with his fat hands. Even though it was largely a hard process for him, he managed to raise his body above and lean his foot against the stem. Resting for a while to regain his breath, he repeated his last action to reach another bough, but something went wrong.
“My Baron, my hands are slipping!” He shouted in fear.
“What! Hold on tight!” Edmond stood up and rushed towards the tree.
“I can’t! My arms are too tired! Oh, God, no! I don’t want to die here!” Merlon cried. He was nearly in tears.
“You would not die if you fell from that height,” Conrad said trying to hide the smile. ‘You may break one of your legs, though.”
“No!” Merlon screamed more. “My Baron, please help me; I have always been a loyal servant to you and your House!”
“Hold on tight, Merlon!” Having come nearer the tree now, Edmond started to climb it after his servant. His voice sounded anxious; he must really care about Merlon.
“Aaaahhh!” The fat peasant screamed, although he was still on the tree. This could be a good circus act.
“You know you did not fall Merlon, don’t you? You are still on the tree, well, at least for now.” Conrad said.
“But I will!” Merlon answered while Edmond was climbing the tree, approaching him. He tried to stand on the tree stem with only his feet while trying to keep his balance and pushed his servant’s bottom up with both of his hands.
“The bough, Merlon, climb it!” The Baron of Gannadár said.
“My arms are too weak my Baron!”
“I am already pushing you with all my strength! For the Holy One’s Sake, pull yourself up to that bough!”
“But my Baron . . .”
“Goddamned Merlon!” The Baron of Gannadár was breathless. “Pull yourself up or I will behead you!”
“Argh!” Merlon used all the strength he had in his arms to pull himself towards the bough and climbed to it, finally.
“I did it!” He screamed with joy. “It was not hard at all!”
“Maybe because I pushed you from your ass.” Edmond was still supporting Merlon, as the bough was not large enough to carry the servant. “Now get down because I will no longer be able to hold you.”
“Wait, the apples! I see them much better now my Baron! They look really good and fresh and free of worms . . . well . . . except for that one.” He looked down at his lord. “Hold me for a few more minutes, I will collect as many as I can.”
“Merlon, I can’t hold you like this much longer!” Considering the armor he wore and all his wieght, he was probably right.
“Oh, just wait a minute! I am about to get that one . . .”
“Merlon!”
And then, it happened. Merlon lost his balance and the two men, the servant, and the lord fell off the tree on hard ground. While the proud Baron of Gannadár was lying on the ground, his servant was on top of him, holding an orange in his hands.
Thanks to the Holy One, the fall had not hurt them, just as Conrad had expected. I remember kids fall from the top of much taller trees and continue to play without even pausing for a moment. He thought as the two men tried to stand.
“Oh, this must be a miracle!” Merlon said with sheer joy. “We are alive, my Lord!”
“Get your ass off my face!” The Baron of Gannadár said as Conrad wondered how his Lady Mother would feel if she saw her son like this. Well, maybe she is right about how Edmond treats his subjects after all.
“My lord, I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life, you saved me!”
“It was my duty, Merlon.” Presently, the Baron got serious. “As your legitimate Baron, it is my duty to protect you from any harm, just like my other subjects.”
“If it is finally over . . .” Conrad said to them. “ . . . we’d better continue our journey."
Chapter Five
Strike at Unac’h Dorn
As they advanced in the thick woods of the forest, they encountered a rather interesting view. A large and strange oak stood in front of them, completely rotten. Finally. And an old man with hair as white as the moon, was lying under its dark and leafless boughs. From his looks, Conrad could say he was older than sixty. Yet that was not the strange thing about him. His eyes had a blank stare, and he was repeating the same words over and over, words Conrad could not hear from that distance. He made a gesture to his companions, motioning to them to stand close as they walked towards the oak and the man. This oak, it must be the one that Eddon had talked about.
They approached the tree in a cautious manner and dismounted their horses. The old man, still repeating some words, was staring at the clear sky.
“Hello.” Conrad tried to communicate with him, but he did not give an answer. He just continued to look at the sky. I wonder if he is counting the clouds.
But Conrad had to try his luck once more, as this man and the oak were the only lead they had. “We are searching for a castle, named Unac’h Dorn. Do you know anything about that?” He said to the old man.
The old man looked right at his face, just as if he were not blind. “Unac’h Dorn?” He asked getting closer to Conrad, leaning towards him.
“Yes, Unac’h Dorn.”
The old man suddenly stopped leaning towards Conrad and leaned back on the rotten oak one more time. And his stare turned blank again as he spoke in a high-pitched voice:
It’s a seat of blood, magic, and might
The dead remains of an ancient blight
To darken the men, to darken its light
And to resurrect its never-ending fight
“What the hell is he saying?” Merlon anxiously asked. It was obvious that he was taken with fear.
“It’s a poem, I guess?” The Baron replied to his servant. “Or something like that.”
“About Unac’h Dorn,” Conrad said, just before turning to the old man again. “Do you know about the Brotherhood and him, the Dark Rider?”
The old man replied again, but as he had done earlier:
A rider under the moonless night
For his soul is nothing but dark
Will ascend to the cheater’s throne
After obtaining the devil’s stone
“A rider under the moonless night?” The Baron asked.
“Yes!” The old man’s eyes sparkled as he smiled.
Under the veil of the gathering storm
With pain, he yelled at the stars upon
‘She was the end, and she was the beginning
Without her, this world has no meaning
Then, he stopped speaking and smiled even more. The expression on his face was disturbing.
Merlon was still full of fear, but unlike him, the Baron was actually able to understand what was going on with the old man, and was therefore even more afraid than Merlon was. “By the name of the Holy One, this man is enchanted!” He cried with a shaken voice. His voice echoed through the woods of the Jade Forest.
“Yes, I think he is, but not in the way you think,” Conrad said while slowly walking away from the old man with the rest of the group. It was not the first time he had seen something like this. He therefore knew they were safe and the old man could not give them any harm. Despite that, he also had goosebumps. This shit . . . it gets you every time. “I have seen something like this back in Choand, and it was no good omen.”
“Then, the rumors about the forest, they are indeed true?” Merlon said with fear. He was sweating all over and his face had turned red.
“Maybe,” Conrad said. “But I think if there is something unnatural there, it is more about Unac’h Dorn than the forest itself, as the old man talked about the castle, not the forest.”
“The old man said ‘It’s a seat of blood, magic and might’. I think it was no coincidence, Ser Conrad. There is really something wrong with this castle . . .” Edmond said to Conrad. “ . . . and that’s why we need to gain speed.”
“What!” Merlon cried. “I mean my Baron, are you really serious about continuing this journey? After that . . . thing!” He pointed to the rotten oak that the old man was leaning upon, but fear took hold of him once more. “Whaaat!?” His body started to shake with fear.
