by Winfred Wong
“Guard, tell me where are the consuls? Have they arrived yet?” Levi asked the guard, commandingly.
“As far as I know, Consul Morph hasn’t arrived yet, and for Consul Pancho, he is now holding a meeting in the castle,” the guard replied, in a casual tone, as he laid eyes on the horses behind them. “For the horses, there is a loose box at the end of the street. Do you want me to lead them to it?”
“That would be unnecessary,” Levi said. “Just tell me which way to the castle?”
“Down the main street in the middle, and you’ll find the gate on the other side. The gate guard over there will show you the way,” the guard answered.
Levi nodded as a thank you to the guard. “Okay everyone!” Levi said to his men. “We will now go to the castle. Follow my lead. Do not mount your horse until we step out of the city.” And he began moving toward the main street.
“But what about the other people who are imprisoned inside the palace?” Rogen said to Haddon, brows drawing down. “They are just innocent people. They deserve better.”
“What can you do about it?” Haddon asked. “Ask the king to amnesty them? I don’t think it is a wise choice.”
“Amnesty? No, I don’t think they have done anything wrong,” Rogen said, as he thought of the poor man banging his head on the ground in Lome. “They aren’t criminals.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“There must be something we can do,” Rogen said in a firm tone. “I joined the Knights because I want to become a hero like Lee, not to turn my back on my people.”
“He is a hero to you?” Haddon asked.
“Of course he is,” Rogen said. “He saved my life and thousands of men in Orilon.”
Haddon spoke no more when he heard of Orilon and put up a poker face, and they tramped the rest of the way to the other side of this lifeless city in quietness as the creepiness of this barren city stunned them. This deplorable city wasn’t as huge as Lome, but also not as tiny as Ayrith. Dusty streets and lanes were overgrown with weeds and bushes, with rats scuttling around like they were the new dwellers of the deserted houses, entire place littered with discarded matter like old clothes and broken furniture, the environment constituted an atmosphere of bleakness.
Upon arrival, “Guard, show me the way to the castle,” Levi asked the gate guard, who was sitting on a wooden stool behind the gate, napping, head resting on the gate, loudly, to wake him up.
Roused from a long period of tranquil slumber, the startled guard rose in panic and almost tripped over the stool.
“Y...yes,” the guard faltered, rolling his eyeballs under closed lids. “Ah...there is a paved road behind the gate that will take you to the castle directly.”
“Then open the gate, would you?” Levi said, and the guard hurried up to the gate, grasped the vertical, curved door handle installed in the middle and hauled it open, one side at a time.
When the gate was open, they walked out and mounted their horses and squelched along the winding paved road, which was rutted, muddy and full of footprints, toward the castle.
“Someone is probably building a mud house,” a bulky man among them, much brawnier than Nuada, wearing the signature armor of the Knights that accentuated his veined formidable muscles all over his body, said, looking down on the mud.
“Like the one you used to live in, huh, Calssen?” Nuada mocked.
“Are you kidding me? The one he built couldn’t even withstand the weight of falling rains,” a man riding alongside Calssen said, and the others all laughed.
“Oh come on, Randel, you promised not to tell anyone!” Calssen moaned.
“Technically, I haven’t!” Randel, a man of average height and shape, black, mini eyes, long nose, and a slender face, explained. “I just took him to the site!”
“Don’t believe him,” a tall man, the only one of them who had a quaver hanging off the side of his horse, said, his voice coarse and dry, as his withered cheeks squished up into a smile and his tiny black eyes basically disappeared.
“Edward, what?” Randel muttered. “I’m telling the truth! I swear!”
“Is it true, Calssen?” Haddon queried, smirking. “Did it really collapse?”
“Shut up!” Calssen replied, his voice faltering, as the castle came into view, and all of them were stunned purely by the look of it.
The great, defensive structure was massive, occupying an area of land larger than the city behind it, and it was surrounded by a murky moat that was about twelve feet wide and ten feet deep, and four bastions, for observing besiegers and commanding responses, constructed at the four corners of the seven feet thick ramparts, rising directly in front of the water-filled ditch, that had wide passageways in and atop to allow troops to deploy to different places swiftly.
The only safe way into the castle was through a steel-made drawbridge, which spanned the width of the moat, installed in front of a seventy feet tall barbican, where rough windows were scattered around in symmetrical patterns, with small camping spots for archers to rain down arrows, facing toward the city, and the solid main gate itself was avowedly unbreachable, all hinges were reinforced, a weighty portcullis, consisting of an iron grating, was built in addition to the hefty, indestructible and unadorned gate situated behind it.
“How strong a fortification is this, compared to that of Lome’s?” Rogen asked Haddon, who was scrutinizing every detail of the castle as if sniffing.
“The ramparts aren’t as thick and durable as that of the capital, but it is built right in front of the moat, which is much deeper and wider, giving the archers the perfect opportunity to shoot at attackers who tried to swim across, and the barbican is almost insurmountable. I just can’t think of a feasible way to take down this castle, not even an army over a million strong,” Haddon praised, as they walked up to the edge of the moat.
Then, after the commander of the gate, wearing a standard full suit of forty fragments of bronze armor that had a symbol of black inverted diamond on the breastplate, atop the barbican looked down and confirmed their identity, he yelled, in a commanding tone, “Get the bridge down! It’s the Knights!”
The lengthy drawbridge, two sides fenceless, supported by a pair of chains attached to a windlass on the barbican, was then being hauled down, at a slack pace that indirectly disclosed the heaviness of it, and when the bottom of the bridge splashed into the moat, spattering their horses, the portcullis and the gate had already been heaved up, and they dismounted and marched forward steadily on the shaky drawbridge that was too narrow for three men to walk side by side, two men max.
The chains of the bridge were being pulled again, making a distinctly squeaking sound, as they passed through the portcullis into a narrow and dimly lit passageway, where Haddon saw many murder holes among the stones above his head, and, when the horses trotted slowly through the gate into the open courtyard, a man, protected by a full suit of armor that was the same as the commander of the gate, approached them, tinkling and jingling, with a dozen armored men straggling along behind him.
“Good morning, Centurion Levi, centurion of the Knights. Welcome to my castle. I am the castle commander, Lyonel,” the man, wearing a pair of precious and golden earrings, said and bowed slightly to Levi.
“Good morning, Lyonel. I’m Levi. I am looking for the consuls. Do you have any idea where I can find them?”
“Consul Pancho is now in the keep, having a meeting with the legates, and for Consul Morph, I am afraid he hasn’t arrived yet,” replied Lyonel, very respectfully. “I can show you the way to the keep now if you wish.”
Levi paused, and said, in a decisive tone, “Thanks for your kindness commander, but it will be better to have the horses fetched first.”
“The stable is over there,” said Lyonel, as he turned and squarely pointed his square finger toward a mud-made stable, which was big enough to accommodate almost five hundred horses, judged by its size, situated right beside the keep, which was shorter than the barbican, but taller than the rampa
rts, lying in the centre of the courtyard.
Glanced around, “What about that?” asked Levi, as he set eyes on a half-finished, mud-made stable, that looked exactly the same as the completed one, on the left side of the keep.
“It is the second stable, still under construction. Hopefully, it can be operational next month, but before that, the old one will still be your only option.”
“And how’s the war going?” Levi asked.
“Last midnight, some tens of them attempted to swim across the moat, but our archers poured volley after volley into the moat, dropping multitudes. Then they tried to batter down the walls with their small bombards, but it had literally no use against the thick ramparts. We don’t even have to fire back!” Lyonel chuckled.
“Thank you commander.” Levi bent down slightly as a goodbye, and Lyonel and his men left after a farewell gesture, marching toward the keep.
“All right guys, let’s go and settle the horses down,” Levi said, as his horse whinnied.
They then herded to the stable through the courtyard, grassless and sun-baked, packed with almost twenty thousand foot soldiers, mostly swordsmen and spearmen.
“What are those crazy looking scarecrows over there for?” Rogen asked, as he happened to see a row of six dummies, glued to the wall, on his right.
“It’s a training field, probably,” replied Haddon.
“But why Lyonel asked Levi to attend a meeting with the legates? Isn’t he only a centurion?”
“Yes. In terms of rank, he is a centurion. But the king has granted him much of the authority of a legate for what he has contributed to the country,” said Haddon when they arrived.
“Calssen! Your mud house!” Nuada said, loudly and sarcastically, and Calssen showed dislike by rotating his eyeballs while others were laughing.
The stable had floors sloped for drainage, plastered ceilings, some feed racks, and was divided into separate boxes, and after they finished settling them down, Levi commanded, “We will now wait for Consul Morph’s arrival. So, before that, try to get some rest while you still can.”
And Levi stepped out of the stable and ambled his way through the ample courtyard, crowded with patrols and soldiers, toward a straight staircase that led up to the walkway of the ramparts, proceeded left toward the barbican, found himself a seat behind a camping spot and fell asleep, leaning against the wall.
It wasn’t until dusk that he heard the screeching noise of the gate being tugged again, and, roused by it, he saw Morph and Chavdar coming through the opening. Almost promptly, he hastened toward the staircase, descended swiftly and sprinted to the gate.
“Consul Morph, Consul Morph,” Levi said, regarding at the centaur, who dwarfed everyone else in the castle. “We need to talk.”
“Of course, Centurion Levi,” said Morph, as they passed through the gate, and Chavdar plunged down from his horseback, and Levi leered at him suspiciously. “Yeah, I am certain that we need to talk.”
Realized that Levi didn’t know him, “Don’t worry. He is one of us,” Morph continued while Chavdar was gawking at him with a shocked look.
“You are a consul!?” Chavdar said. “One of the two chief magistrates appointed by the king himself? Like that Pancho?”
“Yes, and that make me the only one who can stop him,” Morph said.
“So,” Levi interjected, as he averted his eyes from Chavdar, “does he have the staff?”
“No, luckily the mind-wielder from the resistance escaped from the village, and I guess he has already reunited with the besiegers.”
“That coward mind-wielder killed Lee,” Levi said, pursed his lips frustratedly, but remained calm in his manner.
“Stay focused Levi,” Morph said, in a mature voice. “Stay focused on our goal for now. You can revenge his death after.”
Let out a soft sigh to give vent to his unsettled frustration, “As we agreed, I went to find you when I got back to Lome after the mission, but you weren’t there,” said Levi. “Where were you?”
“Before you arrived, I had intercepted a suspicious-looking man on the outskirts of Lome, and the man turned out to be one of them with the ugly eagle tattoo,” Morph explained. “This disloyal man told me everything he knew. He told me that they were in pursuit of the staff in a place called Ayrith, and the staff owner from the resistance was fleeing. So I decided to set off without you, considering that you will eventually find me here.”
Hearing the name of his devastated home, “So what’s the plan now?” Chavdar asked, abruptly and coldly. “I can’t wait to see him suffer.”
“It’s not that easy, Chavdar,” said Morph, in a comforting voice. “He isn’t just an ordinary man. You can’t just walk into his room and kill him. We have to be very scrupulous.”
After taking a sidelong glance at Chavdar to size him up with a doubtful look, Levi added, “He is now meeting with the legates in the keep, and I think we should attend it. We might be able to gather some useful information for us to figure out a viable plan.”
Morph paused in deep thought and said, “I concur. Let’s go.”
With Morph leading the way, they strode toward the keep, and, on their way, everyone, regardless of rank, all bowed respectfully to Morph when they passed by.
The stone-built keep was in a quatrefoil-shape, with curved surfaces to deflect attacks and narrow camping spots all around, and, instead of a flat roof, it was covered up by a triangular roof that didn’t quite match the circular tower.
As they pushed on to the massive main door, about the combined height of three grown men, of the keep, one of the two door guards, both holding a long spear and a rectangular timber shield, bowed, stepped forward, obstructing the entrance, and said, his body quivering, voice quavering, “Consul Morph, I know you’re in a hurry, but Consul Pancho said no entry for personnel below officer rank.”
With a snobbish look, “Is it a direct order from him?” Morph said, in a low tone, treaded up close to the guard slowly until they were only an inch apart, glaring down at him intimidatingly, an indescribable coldness emanating from him.
“Yes Consul Morph, it’s a direct order from him,” the petrified guard, answered, trembling, head down.
“Oh, you do know that I am a consul?” Morph further threatened him, exuding a mask of authority on his face, when Lyonel opened the main door and scampered out.
“Good morning, Consul Morph, I am the castle commander Lyonel. Consul Pancho is waiting for you and your friends in the meeting hall,” he said, with a smile, gesturing to show the guard to stand aside.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
The wide hallway of the keep was irradiated by flickering and peaceful candle flames that isolated the entire area from the cruel outside world, surrounded by stone walls, and, under the shaft of the candles, the well-fixed wooden floor was seemingly coated, gleaming like a sun-drenched lagoon.
Moved in along the hallway, they first came to a disarming room, where even a consul was required to lay down his weapons in some crates. It was a small room, with six crates on each side, and, further down the room, there was a broad, stone staircase that had a clockwise rotation, stretching up to the top of the tower-like keep. And they ascended it after casting their weapons aside.
“Ouch!” Chavdar suddenly moaned, as he tripped over his own feet, almost plunged back down the stairs.
“Be careful of the trip-steps, the height and depth of the steps vary differently,” Levi said, pounding feet echoing.
“A trip-step?” asked Chavdar, resumed going up cautiously.
“Built for people and invaders like you who aren’t familiar with it,” replied Levi.
On each floor, except the first, there was a hallway that ran the length of the keep, with twenty sets of room that can accommodate up to twenty soldiers each on each floor, and the meeting hall was located at the highest floor. So they kept going up until they were on the top end of the stairs, where there was a bulky door that can only be impelled open by a g
rown man right in front of them, and Levi pushed it open forcefully, both sides at the same time.
Behind the door was a square-shaped, spacious meeting hall, illuminated by an orange ray of twilight that still ruled the world, fully carpeted with black, blank floor covering, with a long, broad wooden table in the middle and windows on two wings. The level of charisma emanated from an exquisitely carved lofty sculpture of an armored, faceless giant with both hands making a sign of a cross in front of its chest as if it was the saviour of the world situated before another winding staircase that led up to the attic was beyond doubt unmatched by anything.
There were ten men standing around the table, all frowned in silence as drowned in thoughts. All their tired eyes were riveted on a large map showing the surrounding area of the castle, and, as they heard the door squeaking sound that deviated their focuses, the contemplation ended, and there were some signs of relief, and some even slumped against the table limply.
Then an amiable-looking, middle-aged man, with slightly pointed face, hair browner than Levi, waved to Morph and said, affably – but not affably enough to deceive Morph, “Right on time. Come, come, we’ve been waiting for you two, Levi, Morph. We need your help.”
“Don’t lie. There is nothing you can’t do. I’ve known you for years,” returned the centaur, as Chavdar scanned their faces and wondered if that hideous man next to the amiable-looking man would be Pancho.
“I wish you’re right, Morph, but this time I’ve got something only you can pull off,” that man said, in a tender tone, stony-faced. “Come quickly. Take a look at this.”
With dissimilar thoughts drifting about in their minds, the three of them walked up to the table and flashed a quick glance at the map, which had four bronze pins, standing side by side in front of a symbol denoting a lake, due northwest of the castle, indicating the location of the camp of the resistance, and two silver pins, both on the left wing of somewhere between the resistance’s camp and the castle, one in a low-lying area full of shrubs, one in a swamp, signifying ambush position one and two respectively.
