by Pirateaba
The people started as Foliana spoke and they stared at her. She went on.
“The King of Destruction’s fleets neared and it seemed as though Queravia would receive aid. Baleros prepared itself for a war like it had never seen. However, one last force gathered to defeat her.”
Standing, shouting at the [Captains] and commanders gathered before him. The rain fell and Niers raised a banner. They followed him.
“A Fraerling, the second-in-command of the Forgotten Wing, brought together every company from the marshy cities to the eastern ports and launched an assault on her position. On that day the two greatest [Strategists] in the world clashed.”
A woman’s laughter. She lay on the ground and laughed at him, laughed as the dice fell one last time. Niers remembered what she’d said. Every word.
Foliana’s gaze focused on him in the silence. Her words were a whisper.
“One survived.”
No one in the room spoke. Not one of the richly dressed guests, not the students who’d come in from the mock battle fields, not Niers. Foliana waited for three beats of the heart, and then went on.
“The result changed history, broke the spine of the King of Destruction’s invasion. His advance faltered. An army from Rhir broke the Lord of the Skies and his tribes. His people fell like flies against the monster slayers. A Minotaur fleet humbled his forces at sea, and Amerys, his champion [Mage], finally found a city whose walls she could not break in Izril. But it was one Fraerling who stopped him, one hero of Baleros.”
She raised a hand and pointed. Niers stood tall, the weight of memories on his shoulders. Foliana nodded as every head turned to Niers.
“Guests and friends, I present to you: Niers Astoragon.”
She waited a second more, and then she was gone.
—-
After the applause and having shaken every hand in the room—twice, Niers found Foliana. She was making the hors d’oeuvres disappear at once of the banquet tables. He coughed as Peclir put him down and checked his notes. Foliana looked at him expectantly.
“Word for word the exact same speech you gave last year. And the year before that.”
Unashamed, the Squirrel woman scratched at her ears.
“The same people keep coming back. I think they like the story. And he’s back this year. Mm. He probably eats muffins too. Don’t you think?”
“On campaign? I doubt he would. From what I know of the man, he doesn’t feast himself and eats like his soldiers.”
Niers had a hard time imagining Flos eating muffins in any circumstance. Foliana shrugged.
“Mm. But when does the King of Destruction eat muffins, then? In bed? It’s important to know these things.”
“Why? Are you planning on killing him?”
“Very hard. But I could do it if he ate muffins. No one’s on their guard when eating muffins.”
“Professor! Sir!”
One of his students was trying to get Niers’ attention. He nodded at Marian as she trotted around a visiting dignitary.
“Marian. Can I help you?”
She smiled nervously.
“We were wondering, professor, whether you’d care to have a mock battle with us yourself on this day. You’ve never had a match, and today…well, we were wondering—”
For a second Niers thought about refusing. But then he grinned.
“Why not? Form an army, Marian. I’ll take you on—”
“Me?”
“You and every one of my students who wants to participate. Go on, get things ready. I’ll be out shortly.”
He saw Marian’s eyes widen, and then she galloped from the room. People who’d casually been eavesdropping instantly headed for the doors and the rumors began to fly. The Titan was about to have a match! He wondered what the odds were.
Foliana looked at him.
“The old you would have said no.”
“Good thing I don’t feel old.”
Niers grinned and swept the hat off his head. He plucked the feather and offered it to Foliana. She took it, looking at it with bemusement.
“For luck?”
“It’ll get in the way of a real battle. You can eat it if you want.”
He left her with that. On the mock battlefield both armies were forming up. All of the [Strategists] and [Tacticians], his students, were lined up in front of their command unit. Over half had armor on. The other half were shouting orders as their army formed up around them.
“Sir?”
One of the [Soldiers] in charge of a battalion of pikemen armed with padded spears jogged up to Niers. He nodded at the man.
“You’ve never had a Fraerling command, have you, young man?”
The young man, who was probably in his forties, grinned at Niers.
“No, sir. But we’ve never had the Titan commanding! I reckon we’ll get on. Where did you want us deployed?”
“Oh, I have a simple strategy in mind. I’ll need two people to carry my pedestal—I don’t fancy being trampled. As for the rest, my orders are simple. Here’s the formation you’ll take at the start of the battle…”
—-
In her nice, cool banquet hall which was now mostly empty, Foliana stood at one of the class windows and stared out at the mock battlefield. It was swollen with people, over half of whom were onlookers fighting for room.
Someone coughed behind her. Peclir came forward and Foliana turned. She had a muffin in her hands. It was several days old and stale as a rock. The [Chamberlain] eyed it but made no comment.
“Do you believe Lord Astoragon will be victorious, Miss Foliana? I imagine quite a lot of potential investors will be interested in the outcome of this little event. It could prove unfortunate if he were to lose.”
“Mm. Yes.”
Foliana nodded. She watched with her curious eyes as someone blew a horn and both sides moved into action. Niers’ students immediately sent cavalry charging at Niers’ flanks, rains of arrows and spells flying at his army, all boosted by their assorted Skills. She watched as Niers’ army spread out, ignoring the attacks and ‘dead’ soldiers began to depart the field.
“What’s he doing?”
Peclir was stunned by the display. Niers was advancing, heedless of being overwhelmed. He was being encircled, and still he hadn’t made any moves.
The enemy heavy infantry was about to smash into his own when Foliana saw a tiny red figure in the center of the mass of his army raise a tinier sword. But his voice was not tiny. He shouted.
“[Vanguard of Terror]! [Covering Fire]! [Rapid Advance]! [Formation: Dodge]!”
He waved his sword and his army shot across the field, taking the first wave of soldiers by surprise. His army moved as one mass, as his designated archers, mages, and so on joined with the common infantry. They hit the group of armored soldiers like a wall. Peclir winced as he saw the group of soldiers that had been sent against Niers’ army go flying. Foliana put her paws over her ears.
“Form up! Form up and charge!”
Niers’ voice was a howl above the shouting. His empowered army pushed back the soldiers trying to encircle them. Peclir stared.
“He’s using his Skills?”
Foliana shrugged.
“Why not? It’s a battle.”
“One hardly thinks that would be fair.”
“Mm. Nope. That’s the point.”
The students were scrambling to withdraw and form a wall between them and Niers. Foliana saw Niers’ army running across the ground. She waited.
“Big skill. Mm. Come on. Can’t win with [Vanguard of Terror]. Which one?”
She peered at Niers. He was being carried by his command, rushing towards the enemy, fearless. Like always. It didn’t matter that he was in a mock battle. She heard his voice.
“[Charge of the Strategist]!”
There it was. Behind Niers, his army accelerated. Foliana heard a roar, and this time covered her ears and eyes. When she opened them, after the tremendous clash, she saw the other army runnin
g for their lives. [Actors] weren’t paid enough to fight that. She watched as Niers’ army joyfully beat the [Strategist] and [Tactician] students with their padded weapons.
After a while, Foliana found the muffin she’d kept from breakfast a while back. She carefully chewed the very, very stale muffin.
“Showoff.”
Niers was standing on his pedestal, red coat ablaze in the sun. Peclir stared at him.
“When I see him so, I can see him there, Miss Foliana. Right there in your story. And before that. He has been a legend.”
“Mm. He’ll quit when he’s old.”
Foliana nodded. Niers was laughing, she could tell. She couldn’t see him or hear his voice, but she knew he was laughing. Peclir turned and stared at her.
“Do you mean he plans on retiring, Miss?”
“Mm. He forgets sometimes. I have to remind him.”
“Remind him of what?”
She smiled. Niers laughed, and Foliana turned. Her eyes shone as she looked at Peclir and grinned.
“We’re not old yet.”
4.26 M
The group of riders raced after the magical carriage on horseback. They’d had to chase hard from their position after it; the pink carriage was known not to slow. However, this group of riders was determined to catch it. One of the Humans on horseback pulled ahead, riding through the freezing wind and urging his stallion to catch the fleeing vehicle.
The lead rider was a middle-aged man whose gravitas came more from his rounded belly than his physique. However, he was a skilled [Rider] and urged his horse onwards, trying to catch the carriage as it shot across the frozen ground ahead of him.
So close! His horse was galloping faster than was possible for any normal, non-magical horse to go. But still the carriage moved faster. It was pulled by spectral horses, which raced through snow and across the winter landscape like the wind.
The man on the horse could sense he had only seconds left of this mad sprint before his horse would tire, or risk injuring itself. He dug his heels into the horse’s side and it obliged its master, giving up one final burst of speed—
“Oh, do stop making a scene and get in. Quickly if you please; I’m in a hurry.”
The man on the horse blinked. The carriage suddenly decelerated, putting the now-open door at a level with the horse. And from the dark opening, two gloved hands reached out and yanked the man off the horse and into the carriage.
The stallion, suddenly divested of its rider, slowed and looked around in stupid confusion. The other riders shouted, but the carriage sped up again, instantly losing them in a flurry of snow.
Inside the carriage, the middle-aged man, the [Mayor] of the small city known as Leadenfurt, found himself face-to-face with a stern, steely-eyed woman. Her name was Ressa, and she politely let go of him and steered him into one of the padded seats. The man gulped as he saw a woman sitting across from him.
“Mayor Wullst of Leadenfurt. A pleasure.”
Lady Magnolia sat across from the surprised Wullst, smiling and munching on a cookie. It was one of many on a tray sitting on her side of the carriage.
“Lady Reinhart.”
Wullst remembered himself and tried to bow. Magnolia scowled.
“Do stop. I haven’t the time to make this long; I’m bound for First Landing and I doubt you’d like to be dropped off there. It’s a cold, long ride home, especially without a horse.”
“Yes, milady.”
The [Mayor] sat up, conscious of Ressa, sitting quietly next to him. Staring at him. Not that he was intimidated by the look or the proximity—Wullst had been a veteran [Rider], a soldier for many years and he was an excellent fighter. It was just that you heard stories about Magnolia’s maids.
He cleared his throat.
“Lady Magnolia, I deeply regret taking up your time. It is just that this message you sent to all the cities in the area—”
“What of it?”
“You—you requested soldiers from our garrison. A sizeable force of six hundred assorted horse, infantry and—I understand the wording is ‘puffed-up idiots who can cast at least Tier 3 magic’—”
“Mages. Yes. Was that so unclear you felt the need to catch me?”
Wullst spread his hands helplessly.
“Not at all, Lady Reinhart. It’s just that—is it war? We contribute the annual levy to fight with the Drakes, but this is unusual.”
Magnolia sighed. She bit into the gooey insides of the cookie, which was filled with some kind of jam, and chewed for a moment before answering.
“It’s for the Goblins, Wullst. I intend to raise an army and crush them. I trust you’ve heard by now the Goblin Lord destroyed two Drake armies near Liscor?”
Of course he had. And if he hadn’t, Wullst wouldn’t have admitted to it. He nodded carefully.
“A dire situation. Yet the Goblin Lord has a ways to go before reaching any major city, if you’ll beg my pardon. He needs to get past Liscor first, and the Drakes are certain to send—”
“Wullst, I am the [Lady] of this carriage, not you. If you would like to cross your legs, shave your beard, wear a pink dress and some rather uncomfortable undergarments, then you may sit in my place and dictate to me all the things I already know. I’ll even let you eat my cookies if you go that far. Until you are that committed, please do not presume to state the obvious.”
Magnolia snapped at Wullst. The man paled and shut up. Magnolia eyed him, picked up another cookie, and bit into it savagely. She frowned as she chewed.
“Plum. Ressa, were you behind this? Never mind. Wullst, I am not asking for your opinion. I am telling you that I intend to raise an army and march it south, to destroy this Goblin Lord. I have requested soldiers from you, and your oaths dictate that you raise the required force or provide me an explanation as to why you will not. Have you one?”
“I do, Lady Reinhart. I beg your forgiveness. I received a request from Lord Veltras not two minutes before yours. He required me send him twice the number of men you had levied—”
“Veltras? Damn him.”
Magnolia scowled, opened the carriage door, and tossed the plum cookie out. She slammed the door as Wullst stirred uneasily.
“I do beg your pardon. But it is simply that we lack the manpower to count ourselves safe if we send nearly two thousand of our own to—”
“Yes, yes, shut up. Very well.”
Magnolia sighed. She flicked her fingers, and then stared at Wullst with narrowed eyes.
“Two hundred. Make them cavalry and the best you can spare. Put any mages you have free on horseback, and have them travel to the place I indicated in my letter. If that is too much, you must petition Veltras because I will have some aid from you. Will that do?”
“Yes, Lady Reinhart!”
Wullst bowed, his heart beating in relief.
“Good. Then get out.”
The carriage slowed. Wullst found himself ejected from the carriage before it had stopped rolling. He nearly fell in a drift of snow, and found himself staring around an empty road. He looked back and saw the pink carriage already accelerating.
He was alone. Wullst shivered as a gust of the winter’s winds buffeted him. He would be glad when the snow began to melt, which should be soon, according to his weather mages. He began slowly trudging back in the direction of his escort and mount. He almost wished he’d had the courage to ask Magnolia for one of her cookies. A plum one sounded very appetizing right now.
—-
The magical carriage sped on, flying over hills, across bridges, northwards, ever further. It seldom slowed, never really stopped. When there was traffic on the roads, it swerved off the road, sometimes crossing frozen lakes rather than deal with traffic. And it never ran into trouble. Sometimes it ran over trouble, but that was trouble’s problem, not Magnolia’s.
And now it reached a massive city, a sprawling metropolis that had walls, and had built over said walls to accommodate the vastness of its architecture. First Landing, first and gran
dest of the Human cities ever built on Izril appeared on the horizon. Its watchful towers kept a vigil to the north sea, built countless ages ago by the Human nobility who had fled from Terandria fearing others might follow.
And so they had. More Humans, who had overrun half of the continent. Now their cities reached all the way to the High Passes, but it was always the north where their treasures lay. The ancient seats of power had been established here, and it was here Magnolia Reinhart’s blood-spattered carriage rolled to a stop.
In front of a pair of massive gates, and a mansion that was taller than some palaces, Magnolia Reinhart stepped out of her carriage and stretched. Ressa stepped out beside her, quiet as a shadow.
“Oh, look at the blood. Reynold, have that cleaned later, will you? Was it from that young Wyvern we spotted? I believe I actually felt that one.”
The carriage rolled away through the snow, and Magnolia paused in front of the gates. They were three times the size of the carriage and made of neither wood nor iron. The stone bars looked down at Magnolia as she strode towards them.
No one entered the home of the Reinharts without presenting themselves at the gates in person. Not even Magnolia Reinhart, scion of the house. She walked up to the gates and pressed her hand against a dull gem set into the stone.
“I am Magnolia Reinhart. Open.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then the doors slowly began to swing inwards. Magnolia walked through them, and Ressa followed.
The flurrying snow had built up around the Reinhart estate. Inside, it was a memory. Magnolia’s cold skin warmed the instant she entered her ancestral home, and she saw grass, a detailed walkway, the sloping massive layers of mansion built ever upwards by generations of her family, and of course, her family.
They awaited her down a pathway of bowing servants. Magnolia strode past the uniformed men and women and occasional nonhumans, ignoring their greetings.
“They must have gotten this ready for me.”
She spoke curtly to Ressa. The maid nodded as she walked at Magnolia’s side.
“They know how much you hate it.”
Magnolia snorted and stared at a curtsying girl who might not have been ten. Then she narrowed her eyes at the older woman, young man, and girl waiting for her.
