“Usually they do, but Férfa leads a scouting party that travels far and wide across the Forests of Greenwell in times of urgency.”
“What is the urgency?”
“The Troll is back in the area. Not only does that damn monster seek to slay Foresters, but it will destroy all who aid us and pose a hindrance to its foul task. When we’re alone out in these woods certain tribes of Woodfolk offer us shelter and food, and sometimes friendship. Others will pin us full of spears on sight. Early in my career as a Forester I met the tribe that Férfa is a part of and I was accepted among them, accepted enough, even, to become a member of the tribe through marriage.”
“So you and Férfa…?”
“Yes, she and I have been husband and wife for eight years. Together we have six children, and all are raised with the tribe to enjoy a more peaceful simple way of life free of the stress that is harbored in the settlements of the Three Baronies.”
Ethan lost his footing, stumbled a little and fell a step or two behind O’Dell. He regained his composure and began walking just behind the Forester. As he followed the broad back and athletic form of the Greenwellian through the perilous woods Ethan wondered what other secrets and mysteries lay within that form. Suddenly the storyteller was struck by another nagging query.
“O’Dell, how did the Woodfolk know that the Troll was in this area?”
“It passed through this stretch of woods days before us,” answered the Forester of the Three Baronies.
“Oh,” Ethan replied but after a moment of thinking he continued, “but how would it pass us if we have been traveling continuously since Deephollow?”
O’Dell snickered and responded, “It doesn’t need to sleep, Ethan. It will travel day and night in order to reach Greenwell City before us. Then it will have time to murder and eat some helpless bastard in order to become that person.”
“Why?”
“Because it knows that I am going there, and we all know how much it despises me. But also the Troll knows that if it manages to slay me or another Forester it will be that much easier to infiltrate the ranks of the Foresters and pick us apart from the inside out. Can you imagine the blow it could cause to our order portraying our grandmaster? Where better place to start than the place where the headquarters of the Foresters of the Three Baronies is located? And there is no better place in all of the Three Baronies for Troll to lay low for awhile than the land’s most populated city. Word of advice, be careful whom you trust.”
“How could the Troll get passed us without us being able to spot it or signs of its passing?”
O’Dell chuckled again at the naivety of the young Vharian storyteller and answered, “The Troll could sneak passed you if it was drunk and blind, and even with my years of experience and training as a Forester it can easily get by me out in these dark woods. But getting passed the Woodfolk unnoticed is another story altogether. They have been watching you since you turned off from Breckyn’s Call with the Troll.”
Ethan laughed nervously as his amber eyes darted to the left and right, surveying the murky shadows of the surrounding trees. He suddenly was overwhelmed with the feeling that he and O’Dell were being watched.
Chapter Eight
The Streets of Greenwell City
Ethan beheld Greenwell City in untainted deep wonder from the vantage point he and O’Dell stood upon, atop a grassy hilltop that overlooked the great Three Baronies River. The greatest city of the Three Baronies was built in a vaguely-circular shape and was cut exactly in twain by the river. About a dozen bridges of white stone connected the two halves of Greenwell City, and in all of the white materials of its construction, the settlement stood out like a beacon to the Ancestors amidst the surrounding dark green wooded countryside.
A towering white wall strewn with parapets and guard towers formed a ring in the interior of the city that encircled the Castle of Greenwell, the Great Cathedral of the Ancestors, and numerous large elaborate buildings. It marked the original boundary of the city when it once was a fortified walled community during the Ancient Age, but over the many centuries thereafter Greenwell City had spilled over the walls and into the surrounding countryside.
Greenwell City was officially founded as a settlement two-thousand years ago in the latter half of the Ancient Age. Instantly it became a thriving melting-pot of culture and commerce and grew in appeal and size. When Illumis the Wizard Emperor seized the throne at the end of the Ancient Age the population of the city became stagnant and almost of pure Greenwellian blood. The reason for this is that he exiled or jailed those of Wendlithian and Vharian descent. But with his defeat in the Battle of Greenwell City and the formal establishment of the Three Baronies and their respective barons Greenwell City again prospered and grew.
The Barony of Greenwell was ruled by the Fernhollow family and currently the vigorous middle-aged Baron Reynard Fernhollow, a widower and father of a single young daughter, sat upon the throne in the Castle of Greenwell. All knew of his heroic deeds and adventures as a Greenwellian Knight in his younger years, and Ethan in particular knew many tales inspired by him and his deeds. He and the Knights under his command governed the barony and Greenwell City like clockwork but with a caring touch that bespoke his love for his land and its good-willed populace.
The buildings of Greenwell City were all composed of white stucco walls and dark timber frames. High-peaked roofs of dark green stone shingles, quarried from the only place where such rock was found at the city of Stone’s Shore, topped every structure. The compounds and edifices within the walled section of town that perched tall and proud on both sides of the river were all constructed of brilliant white stone as were the cobblestone streets and lanes that spread outward from the river in the center of the town like spokes of some great wheel. The din of the hustle and bustle of the city reached Ethan and O’Dell even where they were perched atop the hilltop to the north of the settlement.
“Wow,” was all Ethan could stammer.
When they entered the city itself Greenwell City proved to be no less impressive and overwhelming. Merchants and pedestrians crowded every street corner admiring wares or cutting deals while Greenwellian Knights in their mail armor and dark green tabards casually-patrolled the city. The wide avenues themselves were crowded with countless wagons and riders, all atop sterling mounts. A glance in any direction beheld all three of the Three Baronies’ cultures. Aside the dark-haired and white-skinned Greenwellians in their assortment of garbs in all hues there were the taller, paler, fair-haired Vharians in their drab-hued clothes, and aside the both of them were the dark-skinned light-haired Wendlithians in their loose colorful silks, typically leading their beloved horses around by reins. The majority of the people, though, no matter what their heritage, blended the styles and cultures of the Three Baronies into such wonderful sights. Ethan was simply awestruck, and he felt that he and O’Dell must look like animals to these clean smiling people.
Just as the thought crossed his mind he glanced down one of the various side streets and it was filled with heaps of wood scraps, garbage, and refuse. Drunks, wastrels, and the poor clustered in lean-tos or just in the open in these alleys, and as they passed by the entrance of one particular side street a handful of beggars scurried out to beg for coins or mead. O’Dell ignored them and continued to march forward at his brisk pace and Ethan was forced to guiltily ignore them as well to keep up the jaded Forester. When they passed close by another side street a small crowd of scantily-clad women that smelt of perfume that attempted to cover the smell of sex, some young and gorgeous and others older and repulsive, sauntered out to speak with the two companions. O’Dell continued walking, but Ethan stopped when one asked in a husky sensual voice, “Is there anything I can do for you, honey?”
Ethan looked to the side at her; she was about his age with shoulder-length brown curly hair and beautiful skin that would be even prettier had it not been covered in makeup that made her look as a doll. She wore a brown bodice low on her torso and most of he
r abundant breasts struggled to pour over the brim of the garment, and a long burgundy skirt hung down to her dirty bare feet. When she realized she had the storyteller’s attention she bit her bottom lip and felt her ample breasts with one hand as the other tugged her skirt to the side, opening a slit that ran the entire length of the article. Her shapely naked leg eased teasingly out of the slit and her hand slid slowly up her thigh until it disappeared under the cloth where her loins were hidden. Ethan grinned like an idiot and arched an eyebrow at her. “Well,” he began but he was cut off as O’Dell grasped him by the collar of his tunic and jerked him out of the street-side harem.
“Come on, kid. We got business here, and not that kind of business.”
“Is all of Greenwell City like this, O’Dell? You know, with the impoverished and prostitutes lurking in the side streets.”
“No, on the east side of the river, outside the Old District mind you, the beggars and whores simply roam the main streets with adventurers, brawlers, drunkards, and not just a few off-duty Foresters. Don’t go over there unless you’re looking for trouble,” said O’Dell, but with a grin he finished his statement, “or fun.”
“So that’s where the term of calling someone with a daring demeanor ‘easty’ originated then?”
“Yep, that’s the place,” answered the Forester.
The Old District appeared to Ethan as a completely different city than the rest of the city that lay outside its ancient walls. The environment was one of old grandeur echoed by the white-stoned majesty of various expensive manors, museums, and expensive inns. The brilliant buttresses and pinnacles of the Grand Cathedral of the Ancestors reached up towards the Ancestor Lands in honor, and the high fortified Castle of Greenwell with its dark green-shingled turret tops and green banners that fluttered in the breeze spoke of pure magnificence and nobility. That was where the Baron and his heiress, Ambria was her name if Ethan remembered correctly, and all of the employees of the castle dwelt. The Castle of Greenwell was also the headquarters of the Greenwellian Knights.
Nearby was the College of the Three Baronies, its sprawling campus of white stone buildings and towers crawling with students in their crisp linen robes of black for first and second year students, dark green for third and fourth year students, and light green for fifth and sixth year students. The faculty, scholars and sages all, were each garbed in their own immaculate white robes. The College of the Three Baronies was where countless young people of the Three Baronies were enrolled to train in the academic arts such as reading, writing, history, and geography. The campus also boasted the Three Baronies’ largest library which was also opened to the public, and the grounds of the library also possessed the Three Barony’s largest collection of scribes, the numbers of which toiled extensively day and night producing various leather-bound texts to be sold by various booksellers throughout the land.
But what loomed before Ethan and O’Dell was the headquarters of the Foresters of the Three Baronies. It was simply a large square building of white stone standing some three stories tall with the vivid green shingles that were so common throughout Greenwell City, but the compound was surrounded by a tall, wrought-iron fence shrouded in thick ivy vines that were sprouting fervently this summer with numerous white and yellow blossoms.
The courtyard of the compound was dominated by a stone fountain. The fountain's still waters were shrouded in green algae, and rising from the center of the pool was a mossy statue of Lady Quinn, the Golden Eagle. Her long mane of hair swirled about her in the wind as she stood firmly and stoically, hand axe in hand, against the aggressions of Illumis and all who would endanger the people of the Three Baronies. She was clothed in a loin cloth and a vest that was tied up the front, and she wore sturdy boots and gauntlets. While everyone in Greenwell during her time, at the end of the Ancient Age, wore typically sandals and linen robes she wore clothes more akin to the riders of Wendlith and possessed a passion and stature common among those of Vhar. Even in her present form, as a work of art, Ethan felt humbled and honored to be in her presence.
As they meant to walk passed the structure O’Dell stopped at the lip of fountain and bowed his head. “In honor and duty,” he breathed, eyes shut and face expressionless.
After a moment the two of them continued on to the entrance of the building. They entered an open breezeway supported by stone columns and approached a large set of dark wooden double-doors, each bearing a polished gold ring. O’Dell grasped the pull ring on one of the doors and hauled back on it, and the heavy door creaked open. Together the companions strode purposefully into the building, and as they did so Ethan was overcome with the nagging suspicion that his life would never again be the same.
Chapter Nine
Joining the Ranks
Upon entering the headquarters of the Foresters of the Three Baronies Ethan beheld a massive two-storied foyer with a balcony running along the second floor. Lit by the amber glow of a few old lanterns and the sunlight that poured through a number of even older windows, the foyer consisted of dark hardwood floors and stone walls like the entirety of the interior of the structure. A wide grand staircase ascended from the ground floor where about halfway to the second floor it split in twain and the two separate curving stairwells that continued their ascension met the balcony at opposite sides of the massive chamber. The vaulted ceiling of the chamber was about thirty-five feet tall and high gothic windows ran in vertical rows up the walls on either side of the foyer. It seemed as though it was a converted temple of some ancient faith.
Not a soul intruded in this massive hall aside from Ethan and O’Dell, and their footsteps echoed throughout the lofty chamber. When they were halfway up the staircase a door on the upper level eased open and a Forester stepped out into the foyer, and he began striding towards the staircase. He wore the familiar cuirass, woolen cloak, gauntlets and boots, and the silver hand axe was sheathed at his hip. The man was an older fellow with short grey hair and his square, handsome face was dashed on its left side with a pink vertical scar. He was built of a towering muscular form, standing about seven feet tall, and under his cuirass he wore a tight short-sleeved black shirt that matched his similar trousers. On the opposite hip from his axe and satchel, a scabbard containing a wide-bladed long sword swung heavily. The man was obviously deep in thought as he marched forward and thus he didn’t look up at the approaching duo.
“Hey, you big Vharian bastard!” shouted O’Dell as he charged forward up the stairs.
The large Forester’s eyes shot up and his frown broke into a grin of brilliant white teeth. “O’Dell, you little Greenwellian runt, when in Lady Quinn’s ghost did you get back?”
The two collided in a thunderous bear hug that abruptly turned into a competition of strength. Ethan was not at all surprised to find that the Vharian abruptly won the match. “Okay! Okay! You win, Kraegovich!” choked O’Dell before the larger man released him.
As they exchanged another hug O’Dell laughed, “I just got back. I figured I deserve another bout of rest and recreation.”
“How’s your assignment going?”
“I still haven’t figured out how to kill the Troll, but I wounded it in another scuffle, saving this fellow as a matter of fact,” returned O’Dell as he indicated to Ethan behind him.
At that both the Foresters turned and looked back at Ethan who stood awkwardly on the landing where the stairs separated. “Greetings, Sir. I’m Ethan Skalderholt.”
Kraegovich nodded in greeting with a slight smile and looked back to O’Dell, “What’s he doing here, O’Dell?”
“He’s a Vharian like you but he left his homeland with the mission of joining up with us Foresters,” explained O’Dell with his hand extended towards Ethan.
“Be you a storyteller, boy?” asked Kraegovich in his deep baritone, obviously referring to his light amber eyes and diminutive stature.
Ethan nodded in reply, and Kraegovich bowed in reverence towards the much slighter man before saying, “Tis an honor to meet you then
, Sir.”
Ethan returned the bow to the older man who was obviously from one of the Barony of Vhar’s settlements that revered storytellers. O’Dell smirked and shook his head in confusion before inquiring to Kraegovich, “So what in the Soul Wastes were you thinking about so strongly? I didn’t know old grey-hairs like you could still think, aside from what type of tea you would prefer as you sit and soil your undergarments in your rocking chair.”
Kraegovich smiled only slightly and answered, “Seven more of us have been killed. We’re now down to twenty-nine members,” He looked back to Ethan and stated, “I hope you have what it takes to become a Forester. We need whoever we can get.”
Ethan again nodded and O’Dell lowered his head at the news. Before parting company O’Dell asked, “So where are you off to, Kraegovich?”
As the large Vharian strode passed them and began trudging down the stairs he responded, “I’m patrolling southward to Woodend before returning back to Greenwell City. After a short break Bethany’s sending me back out all the way out west to Verge with a couple of others, and it sounds like we’ll end up staying there through the fall and winter. There’s been talk of a thick den of Deep Wolves in that area around the northwest border with Vhar.”
“Stay safe, my friend!” shouted O’Dell, and the larger man answered with a wave as he descended to the foyer floor.
O’Dell turned back to Ethan and said, “Kraegovich is a good guy.”
“He seems nice,” Ethan returned and they continued to the second floor.
After a few moments of trudging through a few barren corridors they came to an open door at the end of a hall. A small office lay within and sunlight from a single square window flooded into the room silhouetting the shape of a woman at a desk. “O’Dell, I was just thinking about you,” purred a feminine voice from within.
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