Thibalt and Christill trotted through the streets of Andron, seated on the back of Esree. To Thibalt's pleasure Oswald had asked them to take Esree as a farewell gift once they had finally decided to leave.
They headed towards the large sanctum street market both aware of what was to come, but unwilling to broach the subject. Esree carried them through the busy streets with Christill sitting behind Thibalt, and they were both proud to see many eyes admiring the fine mare as she moved by.
The busy marketplace finally came into view, coloured tents and stalls lining the street, and bright flags and signs flapping loudly in the wind. In the midst of the tents stood countless smaller tables from which the varying traders displayed their wares. They passed by racks of pottery, tables laden with food and spices, and merchants selling dyed fabrics and exotic clothes. The sights, sounds and smells of the market invigorated the brothers spirits and allowed them to take their minds from their imminent choice.
They continued through to a separate section of the market lined with stages and smaller tents. Here entertainers and those merchants providing more unique services found their home. The laughter of children and adults alike was loud in the air, as actors fought on stages and fools with brightly coloured clothes ran around with juggling balls. Thibalt guided Esree through, trying his best to avoid the acrobats twirling and leaping through the open spaces of the market.
Ahead, a large crowd had gathered, heads turned to east as though expecting something. Thibalt pushed forward and asked one of those waiting what they were expecting. The woman turned, visibly annoyed at the interruption, and mumbled something about a royal messenger.
They tied Esree to a timber hitching post and joined the crowd, curious to see what was being announced. They stood silently for a while until a trumpet sounded through the street three times. From the eastern entrance of the market came a large contingent of Feldonian soldiers, marching strictly in their bright plated armour and blue cloaks. Upon their heads they each wore a helm with a crossed visor and a tail of blue dyed horse's hair. They moved in controlled unison, in ranks of four, carrying square shields in front of their bodies that bore the symbol of Skiye. The angel was etched into their shields in polished brass and reflected the sunlight sharply.
Behind the soldiers came a carriage of the finest make, lined with crimson curtains and flanked by a large group of the soldiers. It was pulled by two pure white stallions decorated with colourful feathers.
By the time the carriage reached the large open space in the market's centre, everyone had gathered closer and the crowd had swelled to twice its original size. The soldiers accompanying the carriage created a defensive circle around it, pushing the crowd back with their shields and forming a solid barrier.
Thibalt stared in wonder at the loyal soldiers. He had no doubt that every one of them would forfeit their own lives if need be to protect the Kingdom. The intense sense of duty sent a shiver up his body.
Christill, though impressed, was keener to know what the carriage contained. After several moments, the carriage door slowly creaked open and a thin man in a blue shirt and fine black leggings stepped out. His fair hair was cropped and impeccably clean. They noticed his shirt also bore the symbol of Skiye as he bowed to the crowd.
He held his hand up for silence. "Hearken to me, children of Skiye," he yelled in an ensnaring voice. "Hearken to the words of a lonely messenger in the service of the royal family."
The mention of the royal family gained the full attention of the crowd.
"As we stand here in witness, Skiye blesses her people in the prosperous town of Andron with wealth, peace and happiness. However at the very same time many others are suffering. Your brethren in the East are yet again in dire need," he continued in a passionate voice. "Every day more villages are attacked by King Zephra's forces. They come through the mountain passes, bearing steel, fire and most of all raw hatred. Burning, hacking, slicing and murdering! For they have no honour, no limits. Theirs is a nation born on vengeance. Shunned by the gods themselves," he added, building the tension in the crowd and causing them to stir.
He walked closer to the circle of soldiers around the carriage and stared deep into the eyes of those in crowd. "Something is amiss. We are hearing rumours throughout Feldom of the sighting of strange creatures. Beast never seen before. And now we have news that our spies have recently happened upon," he whispered, loudly enough for the crowd to hear. "Zephra Hermagoras has united the armies of Carnaic and Bultan under Galdovan's banner. This signifies the largest joining of Dargon's forces since the end of the third age."
The crowd burst into voice. Many of the gathered men and women cried out that the messenger was a charlatan, come to spread lies.
"Very well," he yelled, silencing the crowd once more. "If you will not believe me, then maybe you will believe her."
He moved aside to reveal a woman stepping from the carriage. She was dressed in remarkable blue and white robes that outlined her slender figure. Her long brown hair was tied into three interlocked tails that flowed gracefully down her slender back, and on her head she wore a thin circlet of silver, encrusted with two oval sapphires. Thibalt and Christill both gazed, enchanted by the beauty of this woman.
"With great pleasure I present to you all, Queen Triel Castaneda," the Messenger announced with a sweeping bow.
The noise of the crowd erupted once more. Most had never seen a person of royal blood and only heard rumours of the Queen's allure. None had expected such flawless beauty. And a beauty she was, yet when one studied her face for longer she showed traces of melancholy in her features.
The respect for the Queen amongst the Feldonian commoners was well known. It was said that in the capital city the Queen actually governed the throne in her incompetent husbands place.
She spoke in a voice that was feminine yet conveyed her presence. "I have come amongst you now to show you the graveness of this news we bring. The Tyrant King of Dargon has been in power for most of my life and has made constant attacks on our borders. Yet only recently have our brave spies learnt that he has been preparing for a final push since the very day that he claimed the throne of Galdovan. We were blind to his handy work and now Zephra Hermagoras has managed to unite Dargon against us. If he manages to convince Vladistov to join the war, the power that he will have amassed will be irrepressible. Feldom may be powerless to stop him.
"This King is a demon who will stop at nothing to see Feldom and the rest of the Alliance crushed. He has been building his strength, sending out but a fraction of his true forces. We have grown foolish in these last years, thinking that the might of Dargon had finally dissipated. Zephra has been planning something all along. Our men have been unable to locate him for some time now and fear that he has neared the end of his scheming. We believe he is ready to strike again. And strike hard!
"We are seeing more and more attacks on the villages outlying the Beon Ranges. The Misty Forest, home of the Karmanians, is under siege as well. The Dargonians have found a way to break through Nyrune's shield and have entered Karmena. Now all Karmanian soldiers have been called home from Precedin, leaving the city short of men. Thus I am travelling to the cities of the West, bringing this dire news with a plea from your King."
The Queen pulled a scroll from her robes and handed it to the Messenger. He unravelled it, cleared his throat and began to read in a loud voice.
Citizens of Feldom, children of Skiye. It is with great reluctance that I make this request of you, for I know that the people of the West have seen troubled times.
The once mighty garrisons of Precedin are running dry. So many men are needed to patrol the Beon Ranges in these wicked times, that we are leaving the city vulnerable, stripped bare of its defences. Thus, in order to replenish the depleting forces of Precedin, I am calling forth all able bodied men to help protect our borders.
With the power invested in me by the people of Feldom, I ask for the Militia of Feldom to march forth to Precedin to aid your brothers in the figh
t against our most hated enemies.
Honour those who have fallen before us.
"This is signed by your King, Dieter Castaneda," the Messenger added.
A few disgruntled remarks came from the crowd following the announcement. Christill glanced at Thibalt, unmoved by the speech, but saw that his brother was captivated.
This talk of war was stirring a primal instinct inside of him. It had been months since he had wielded a weapon and he suddenly yearned for a chance to hold an axe, just like the one that he had forged with Beanon.
Queen Triel addressed the crowd once more. "I urge as many of you to join up as possible. If our spies are correct Zephra will march his armies into our land within months. It has been many years since a King has summoned the Militia of Feldom, and I assure you that he does so with great reluctance. For only when in dire need are the citizens of Feldom asked to go to war. So please heed my warning." The passion in the Queen's voice seemed to impress upon several members of the crowd. They could see the honesty and pain in her expression.
Yet most of the onlookers still voiced their opposition to the idea.
"What about the Karmanians? Why are they not honouring the Alliance and sending troops to our aid?" yelled a brawny man from the crowd.
"Yeah!" yelled another, "Why should we fight? Why not send the Andronian army to Precedin."
The answer to their questions came not from the Queen, but from a calm and graceful male voice. "The Karmanians have not broken the Alliance. We cannot send our warriors to Precedin, for we fight to stop the Dargonians from entering our own homeland."
The crowd peered around, uncertain where the voice had come from. Then a tall man stepped from the carriage. His black hair was tied into a tail behind his head, revealing a lean face that was accentuated by his vivid blue eyes. His height and slender facial features strongly displayed his Karmanian blood. Taller and more graceful than their Feldonian cousins, the Karmanians showed their heritage most obviously in their eyes, which seemed to glow from within. As the people stared at this new speaker, Christill's eyes were drawn to the armour he was wearing. It was plain to see that the suit of green tinted armour had been expertly crafted with meticulous care and skill. Made of a dark metal, it appeared out of place amongst the Feldonian soldiers.
Christill had recognized the suit instantly as the same that had been on display in Beanon's armoury. The foreign metal and clawed gauntlets were identical on this man's armour, and he even wore a similar green cape to the one in Beanon's smith. Unfortunately, thought Christill, he was not carrying a bow akin to the one Christill had always longed for.
"Furthermore, were we not protecting our own borders, the might of Dargon would have a gateway to your land through the Misty Forest. So do not point the finger, my good cousins," added the Karmanian.
"Who is this man that we should listen to him?" questioned an observer.
"This is Dievu Ilphuki, Emissary of Duathnin, and he speaks with the authority of Karmena's Council of Elders," replied Queen Triel.
Christill looked around and saw that his status had quickly earned him some respect amongst the crowd.
"And to answer your other question, we cannot leave Andron without its army in times like these. If Zephra plans to assault Feldom with all of his strength then he will surely take example from the past and sail some of his forces against the West, striking from the North Sea. This city will need its defences to hold out against such an onslaught. War will come to Feldom on both sides."
An elderly woman from the crowd pushed herself forward and addressed the Queen. "Your grace, you cannot truly believe that all of this is necessary. I have lived for more years than I can count and have seen battles come and go. Every generation believes that a new war, like those of old, will come about. But every time the Dargonians have been stopped. You are overreacting."
The Queen's expression, if possible, saddened further. With a deep sigh she said, "I wish I could say that we are. Believe me, I truly do. But if you had seen the fear in our spies when they told us this news, you would agree with the precautions that we are taking. They acted as men who had seen their own deaths played out before their own eyes. And we cannot dismiss the increased attacks in the last year. War is coming and there is nothing we can do to stop that. I ask you one final time, join the militia and fight to protect your country." She raised her hand to her head, in exhaustion. "I thank you for listening."
Her speech over, Dievu led the Queen back to the carriage.
The crowd gradually dispersed and they watched several of the Queen's soldiers setting up tables for enlistment, Thibalt watched many of the locals, primarily young men, lining up to join the Militia of Feldom and felt an urge to join them.
He was then roused by the approach of the Queen's Messenger, who was moving through the market talking to those left from the crowd.
"How about it lads, willing to join up?" he probed. Before the boys could reply he continued, "What do you do for a living? Farmers by the look of it." He moved closer to them and took a deep sniff. "Horse farmers by the smell of it. We could use people like you in the Militia. We always need young, able bodied men to tend the horses after the battle. It would do you both good to serve the nation."
The brothers stood stunned, not knowing how to reply, or even whether they had actually been asked a question.
"Very well, you know where to enlist. Carry on."
As quickly as he had appeared, he moved on.
"Well we could you know?" Thibalt said.
Christill looked at Thibalt with raised eyebrows. He then laughed. "Could you see me fighting in a battle? Now follow me, I want to see something."
"See what?" Thibalt asked, but Christill was already off and moving through the crowd.
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 31
