Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

The ride into the middle of the city should have been swift, but the hectic streets had delayed their journey. Tall, two and three story buildings loomed on either side of them, casting a grim shadow down on the street. The balconies and window sills above them were covered in wet clothes that dripped dirty water down onto their heads. The people walking amongst them looked down as they walked and Thibalt heard no friendly greetings or conversations.

  Precedin, unlike Andron, had a dreary feel. Its citizens trudging through the streets with grim demeanours. Thibalt thought on the stark contrast between this city and Andron and sighed. The people of Precedin had been hardened and broken by constant warfare, whereas Andron's populous were indeed growing fat on prosperity.

  The two young men finally reached the centre of Precedin, in which the Guardhouse of Oril stood. "Good gods, what is that?" gasped Thibalt, as he caught his first glimpse of the Guardhouse.

  The rectangular building was constructed from sandstone and was being supported by tall pillars. Sculptured arches covered the entryways, and in between the support pillars stood great statues of men in heroic stances. Every wall contained bas relief images depicting great battles and mighty warriors. From the roof of the main entrance flew a mighty banner. It displayed Skiye's angel, bearing her sword and heart in her hands on a blue background, with two white steeds galloping at her sides. Thibalt was truly amazed at how much the symbol of Skiye was used in Feldonian life.

  "What do you mean, what is that?" said Estallion. "It's the Guardhouse of Oril Firestorm. Have you been locked in a cage your entire life?" Estallion said, not comprehending Thibalt's ignorance.

  "Not far from it," replied Thibalt, not wishing to tell Estallion about his past. "So who is Oril Firestorm?"

  Estallion almost fell from the saddle. "Have you been bludgeoned on the head recently. Oril Firestorm, the hero of Feldom, the very first Honour Guard. He is right in front of you for goodness sake." Estallion motioned to a statue which stood on a raised column of stone in the centre of the street, overlooking the Guardhouse. The statue portrayed an stern faced man in a full suit armour, pointing his sword to the East, towards Dargon.

  "Oh, of course," replied Thibalt quickly. "My mind was elsewhere for a moment."

  Estallion looked at Thibalt suspiciously. "There is something odd about you my dear Thibalt. You're hiding something from me. What is it?"

  Thibalt could not answer. He was unsure if he could trust Estallion enough to tell him the truth about his past. There were a lot of Feldonians who harboured a hatred of the Miirvkin. And he was beginning to like Estallion.

  Thibalt counted his luck when a soldier suddenly shouted from the stairs of the Guardhouse. "Bastion, do not move!"

  "Can we not move fifty feet without getting into trouble?" asked Thibalt

  "Welcome to my life," replied Estallion with his ever cheerful smile.

  A soldier dressed in ceremonial vestments moved down the steps towards them, his dark brown cape brushing the street behind him as he marched. The pompous manner of his steps and unnatural cleanliness of his clothing told Thibalt that this man was no real soldier.

  "Well, well," said the soldier in a high pitched voice. "Isn't the General going to be happy when I bring him the very man he has been hunting for the last month."

  Estallion rolled his eyes. "Very well, Guard Marshal. I know how much it would mean to you to capture the ever elusive Estallion Bastion. I'll come with you. I tell you my schedule is never empty. There is always someone requesting my presence. A disgruntled merchant, an angry father, and more often than not the General himself. Regardless...lead the way."

  The Guard Marshal smiled triumphantly and walked back to the Guardhouse. They slid from Esree's back and Estallion held his hand to his forehead dramatically, feigning distress. Thibalt laughed and they followed the Guard Marshall.

  The large arch at the front of the Guardhouse led to a common room that acted as a portal to the many sections of the complex. The walls inside were decorated with eye catching tapestries and paintings and, much like outside, statues of former soldiers stood in hollowed out sections of the wall, overlooking those that passed.

  "Follow me," said the Guard Marshal, as he entered the centremost door in the room. It opened up into a large amphitheatre. This was the council hall of Feldom's armed forces. Here the commanders of the Feldonian cities gathered together to formulate strategies and make plans that would affect the entire nation. The many seats that branched out to their sides looked down upon a vast map of Kovi painted on the amphitheatre floor. They spotted three men standing over the map. Two wore black capes over their leather vests and stood listening to the third figure.

  The Guard Marshal cleared his throat to gain their attention. The men looked up to see Thibalt and Estallion standing at the top of the theatre. "General Guthrum de Lamina. I have brought Estallion Bastion for you," announced the Marshal proudly.

  The third figure smiled. He was visibly older than his companions, with a thick black moustache and tight corded muscles under his golden breastplate. "Many thanks, Guard Marshal Coppercloud. You may return to your post."

  The Marshal's proud smile disappeared and he stormed out of the amphitheatre, highly displeased by the lack of recognition given. Estallion chuckled happily.

  "Now, Estallion, we can finally settle this dispute," boomed the General, amplified by the echo of the theatre.

  "Hardly a dispute if you ask me," replied Estallion, raising his hands into the air. "Soldiers are always blowing up minor problems to enormous proportions. I tell you, you make one small mistake and all of a sudden half the kingdom is after you. I might add that no one told me that the gate was supposed to remain locked. How was I to know that the cattle were going to stampede through the city streets? It's all just a big misunderstanding."

  The General cast a sinister look at Estallion, but remained quiet.

  "You know what the real problem is, we live in a world where people feel the need to lock doors and gates. I consider it plain rude, don't you think?" he asked Thibalt.

  Thibalt's eyes shot wide open and he shrugged his shoulders in panic.

  "And another thing…"

  "Shut up you imbecile!" roared General de Lamina, the blood rushing to his head. "Can't you keep your mouth closed for two breaths? By leaving the gate to that stockyard open you caused a catastrophic amount of damage. Not to mention the manpower required to recapture the lost cattle. The owner of the stockyard wanted me to order a death warrant on your life. You left us in chaos."

  "Hardly...look at it now, good as new. Nice clean up Guard Captain's," he added to the two soldiers at the General's side.

  "Hold your tongue!" yelled the General. "The stockyard owner wants six hundred gold payment for the damage you caused."

  Estallion laughed. "Is that all? I thought you were going to have me thrown in jail again."

  Thibalt turned in shock. "Again?" He was beginning to wonder whether travelling with Estallion had been a good idea after all.

  Estallion simply smiled. The General took a seat to calm his spinning head. "Trust me Bastion, if I could find a jail that your family couldn't buy you out of, I would gladly throw you in it and melt the key."

  "I'd gladly take that challenge, but since none exists, I'll have one of my men deliver the money to the stockyard. Quite understandable. Maybe I should apologize in person...buy the man a drink."

  "If I were you, I wouldn't go within sight of that stockyard. There's a good chance you might come to an accidental death," the General pointed out. "Though that may solve our problems once and for all."

  "Point well taken," replied Estallion. "Glad we got that settled, mind you I'll probably be in here again next week because of some other complaint. It never ends. You would think that people could just let me live my life without enforcing this law and that law. I think I need to have a talk with the King, get some rules changed." Estallion stopped talking when he saw the red rising in the General's neck. This time h
e kept his mouth closed to prevent a violent outburst.

  "And who are you?" asked the General, looking at Thibalt whilst trying to calm his nerves.

  "Thibalt Steelfist, son of Oswald Steelfist of Andron," he replied.

  "Of Steelfist Ranch?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "And what unfortunate circumstance has led you to Precedin in the company of this dissident?"

  Thibalt looked over at Estallion who was listening eagerly. He did not want to lie to the General, but also did not want to tell Estallion the truth of his past life. He paused awkwardly, fumbling with his hands. Then an oddly cheerful smirk from Estallion changed his mind. If he was going to make a new life for himself in Feldom, then he would do so without fear. He took a deep breath and told the General of his Miirvkin upbringing and how his capture by Andronian soldiers had ultimately led to his freedom.

  "Amazing!" replied Estallion. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  Thibalt, pleased that Estallion was not showing any signs of hostility replied, "You never asked."

  Estallion chuckled. "You're catching on."

  The General interrupted. "So interesting a tale I have not heard in some time. But tell me, Thibalt Steelfist, why have you travelled to the city from which all are currently fleeing."

  "I do not really know. I guess that I wanted to see the frontline. See the everlasting struggle against Dargon first hand. I thought, where better to go than the City of War herself."

  General de Lamina nodded. "This is a vague answer, which ultimately is a wise answer. Never let those you do not know learn your secrets. I can tell you have the motivation of a soldier, but that alone will not be enough to survive in Precedin. Tell me Thibalt have you ever been in a battle?"

  Thibalt shook his head.

  "I thought so," continued the General. "You should not be so hasty to throw yourself into a war. Especially one where you do not even know what you are your fighting for. Do you know, Thibalt?"

  Thibalt looked the General in the eyes and replied, "We fight for honour. We fight for glory in the heat of battle."

  "Now you are showing the Miirvkin inside of you," replied the General. Thibalt was surprised to see that none of them were troubled by the knowledge of his life in Hamal. The people of the East were far enough detached from the Miirvkin continent so as not to harbour such great animosity towards that race. "Of course we fight for some degree of recognition, but there are truer things that a soldier fights for. We fight for the families that are left behind. The ones who cannot defend themselves. We fight for the ordinary people of Feldom that will suffer if we do not stand for them. The people who never provoked the wrath of the enemy. On that day when they do not have the strength to stand up to the violent anger and hate that is thrust upon them, we will be there. We fight for Feldom.

  "War is not what you think it is. I have seen too many youths come to this city, eager to take a sword in hand and throw away their lives in pursuit of an imagined glory. When you are standing in line with your fellow soldiers next to you, staring death in the face, the only thing that matters is the man next to you. There is no glory, no heightened sense of wonder. For when that wave of darkness sweeps over the battlefield towards you, eager to crush your spirit and your body, the only thing that you will feel is fear. Overwhelming, heart crushing fear!"

  Thibalt felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

  "You will survive if you keep your head. Protect the men next to you and they will protect you. Keep the line strong and you will survive to live another day. If you falter for one moment and the line breaks, then all hope is lost. Order and discipline is what you must learn if you wish to survive in the City of War. Forget your search for glory. Fear is the true essence of war. Remember to hold the line and then those who need protection the most will receive it."

  Thibalt found his heart stirring with new emotions. The General's speech had been said with such passion that Thibalt held a new respect for this man. He would gladly follow this man into battle. Yet he also felt embarrassment for his naive view. What did he truly know of war and fighting?

  "Well we better be off then," interrupted Estallion, bored by this topic.

  "You could use some discipline as well Bastion. A great deal of it. I know that you are probably one of the greatest fighters in this city, yet you waste your time finding trouble."

  "When the time comes, when all that is left to do is take up arms, I will gladly fight and protect my family and friends, but until then I bid you good day," replied Estallion with a boisterous laugh, just before leaving.

  Thibalt was still mesmerized by the General's words and had to be dragged out of the room by Estallion.

  Just before they left the amphitheatre, the General called out to Thibalt. "Be wary of your new friend. Trouble follows in his wake. And heed my words. Before you throw your life away, make sure you know what you are fighting for."