Getting straight into our work, I see. I believe we left off from where I had been made into Nadine’s family. Nothing of particular importance happened after a couple of years, merely study and working with Nadine. However, my desire to become a soldier and to fight Harkonians had not disappeared during those years. Though Nadine had discouraged me at every opportunity, I was set on the path of vengeance. I eventually enrolled in a military academy. I had earned a reputation while I had studied under Nadine’s wing which followed me into that place. I had negotiated several significant trades which had paid off quite well for us by the time I ended up at that academy. Nadine’s profiteering had reached new heights as she established herself as the most powerful merchant in Stromfor in those years, and no one was willing to even approach me out of fear of evoking her wrath. Though it may seem unusual to you in Harkon, Arcanians don’t exclude anyone from the military. There is always something that someone can contribute to a war effort. Men, women, cripples, anyone at all. Wars aren’t merely fought with steel and muscle. There’s food, warm clothing, armour smithing, weapon smithing… I could discuss it all day, but I believe that is not the goal of our sessions, so I shall refrain from it. While I desired to be a foot soldier, right in the middle of the battle, the academy was reluctant to put the talents I had learned from Nadine to such little use in their war against Harkon. Instead, they put me to use in negotiating with suppliers of various resources across regions of Arcana. We needed iron, hard wood and various other materials for the war effort, and I was the man for persuading the suppliers of those materials to give us a better deal. Nadine was relieved with what I had been given, knowing that I was safe from the frontline, but I was secretly furious. This was not what I had desired by enrolling in the military. I wanted bloody vengeance, but it seemed even my peers were reluctant to give me that. Still refusing to assign me to such work despite my persistent requests, I chose to learn how to fight by myself. I read various books on military theory and combat and practiced swordplay whenever I was not negotiating with traders. In time, I had become quite skilled with a blade, and wished to test my skills against the Harkonians. In secret, I dressed myself in the armour of a foot soldier, and disappeared with a marching regiment who were heading to the borderlands in order to quell a large group of Harkonian soldiers. Everyone in the unit I infiltrated wondered who I was, since they had not seen me at their barracks before. Their commanding officer came up to me when they stopped to set up camp.
‘I believe we have a spy among our ranks. Tell me man, who are you? What is your rank, and what regiment have you served with?’ I removed my helmet so he could clearly see my face.
‘Jacques, trade negotiator, no regiment. I desire to battle the Harkonians in hand-to-hand combat, rather than argue with bureaucrats every day.’ He inspected me up and down, sizing me up.
‘You’re the son of that famous trader, Nadine. It’s been the subject of some talk among the Arcanian military, and I saw you while I was on leave in the trading quarters. I have heard of your constant requests to do battle, and now I can see you’re determined to see actual bloodshed. I suppose the only way to convince you to move away from this path for you to bear witness to the horrors of war.’ He turned away from me and strolled back to his command post. On his way back, he shouted a couple of words.
‘Officially, you aren’t part of this unit, and I will deny any knowledge of knowing who you actually are.’
Uneasily, I had settled into their regiment, though it was still unofficial. Looking back on it now, I know that I had made an absolutely stupid choice. I was young though, so I suppose there was at least some comfort in that. The faces of the slain men that I would see in the following battle… There is no amount of comfort to make you forget that. When I set up camp with them, their leader actually came to me under the cloak of night. He lacked the same authority he did when we first spoke.
‘Listen, Jacques. I know what this is about. Your parents were slaughtered by Harkonians, and now you come wielding a sword in the name of revenge.’ He paused for a moment. Looking back on it, I knew it was a moment for him to gather his courage to speak.
‘You are stupid. Did you know that? In the name of a juvenile desire for revenge, you’re going to risk your life, your limbs and probably even Nadine’s wealth? You’d make an excellent hostage to the Harkonians if they learned who you are. Do you even comprehend the situation your pigheadedness has gotten you into?! War is not a game, and at the end of the day, there are no Harkonians or Arcanians. There’s just corpses.’ I remained unresponsive, and he shakes his head in disappointment.
‘Fine then. Just throw your life away for the sake of some petty revenge. I’ve got bigger concerns than the foolish son of a trader out here. My men need someone to lead them.’
Sure enough, the commanding officer led our regiment against Harkonian raiders on the border. Our battleground was a swamp village just near the border. The Harkonians had already raided it and killed any of the people who had been living there. Getting there in the first place was quite miserable. Mosquitoes and various parasites lived in the murky bog waters, and seemed delighted at the feast which had walked right to them.
‘Are you ready, Jacques? I hope you are, because you may not live through this.’ Our officer had said to me. I had never killed a man before, and I had no mental preparation for it. They kept me at the back as a sort of vanguard, since I had no knowledge of marching formations. Taking no risks, they chose to put their best troops at the front to serve as a shell against the chaos. The Harkonians kept tight formations as well, and the two forces collided like two great waves crashing into each other. I was not prepared for the chaos. Our small island of order was beginning to fall apart into a chaotic ocean of steel and blades. I had paused for a moment after cutting down the first Harkonian I battled. It took me a moment to overcome the thought I had just taken a life. Still though, I knew I could not be idle. I slashed wildly, cutting down any Harkonian I could see. Due to my wild swinging, it’s more than likely I struck down some Arcanian soldiers, but I could never know for certain. It was a desperate and bloody battle, and I could do nothing but raise my sword arm again and again, until it grew so tired that I could no longer raise it. Weapons sliced through the air, and I had narrowly dodged several killing blows among the skirmish. Through the blood and gore, my vengeful rage grew and grew, and drove me to continue killing. It didn’t matter how tired I was. I was fueled by my own anger, and desired nothing more than to unleash my wrath on my foes. Just as I had slain another Harkonian, something hit the back of my head, and knocked me out cold.
When I woke up, the stars were out and I had an opportunity to see the aftermath of the bloody battle. Corpses lined the ground like a morbid carpet. Broken weapons and banners were scattered as far as my eyes could see, and it was then I realised that the only winner in this conflict was death itself. I had gotten some degree of the vengeance I had so craved, but it only left me with a greater desire for more slaughter, and a greater feeling of emptiness. The words of the commanding officer actually echoed in my head at that moment.
War is not a game, and at the end of the day, there are no Harkonians or Arcanians. There’s just corpses.
Wandering through the great layer of bodies, I was shocked to see the commanding officer. He had a huge wound in his head from where a mace had struck him. He had died with his eyes wide open, and I couldn’t bear his deathly gaze. I closed his eyes, and wandered back to the Arcanian camp.
There weren’t many survivors from the regiment I had attached myself to. Mostly foot soldiers and a couple of officers. They were shocked to see I had returned from the battle with little injury. Having no commander to organise the lesser ranks of the regiment, they were in disarray. Since there were so few of them left, it was stretching it to even call their unit a regiment anymore. One soldier was speaking to his comrades about what they should do about their situation.
‘I think we should join another regiment and dissolve ours.
We will not achieve anything without any commanding officer and with so few of us.’
‘It would be preferable to being without a commander among this chaos.’ Another soldier murmured in agreement. One man seemed less concerned about their current predicament and simply glared at me with some sort of disgust.’
‘Fate seems to be mocking us, by returning the trader and not our commander.’ He bitterly spat out.
‘Take a good look, trader. This is what you wanted. Are you happy now?’ I didn’t respond to his anger, and simply turned my back away. His fellows quickly responded to his anger.
‘Relax. It’s not his fault the commander died. We need to stick together through this, not turn on each other.’ As if to illustrate his point, a panting scout arrived back at our camp, bearing grim news.
‘The Harkonians are preparing to lead an assault. All remaining forces are to rally together.’ Each soldier quickly packed their gear up and marched away, following the scout. Having no options, I did the same. We managed to reach a large open plain outside of the swamp. Sure enough, Harkonians were swarming across it. We were severely outnumbered in this conflict, to say the least. The soldiers either side of me seemed more surprised than fearful. One of them was murmuring his thoughts out aloud.
‘Why is there so many of them? With numbers like these, they must be launching a full scale invasion of Arcana. There is nothing valuable enough in these swamps to warrant sending so many troops…’ These words made me wonder as well. In what history I had learned, Harkon had never attempted a full scale invasion before. They are far too fearful of Arcanian lands to do anything other than gradual and careful pushes on the borders. So, the only thing I thought was that they were after something in these lands. I did not have long to think, however, as the Harkonians were rushing forward, eager to crush what few of our forces remained. I made a strange choice that day. I knew that I would surely die or be captured in the coming conflict, as would all of my comrades. If they were looking for something, I had to know what that was. With a plan in mind, I had to escape the battlefield without dying. Easier thought than done, of course. Then, just as I readied myself, the Harkonians arrived. They weren’t using any tactics. They intended to simply overwhelm us with their sheer numbers. It was a slaughter rather than a battle. In the chaos, I quickly thought of a plan to avoid certain death. As much as I hated to do so, I lay among the wretched corpses of the dead, hid myself underneath the freshly killed soldiers of either side. Every once and a while, someone stepped on me, but ultimately I managed to elude death once more.
I spent an hour or two after the battle had ended hiding underneath the carrion. Night was falling, and a thick mist had descended upon the battlefield. The Harkonian looters had been quick, taking anything of value from the corpses and leaving the dead behind. Some were still scavenging among the battlefield. As I rose from my hiding place, none of them paid any notice to me. The coming darkness and increasing thick mist must’ve made me seem little more than a vague shape to them. Being in that spot gave me a lot of time to think about where my choices had led me. I was now alone among countless hostile soldiers on a battlefield far away from home, with no foreseeable way of returning. Killing had not given me any comfort or satisfaction, either. It had merely soiled the earth with more crimson blood. All I had now was my quickly formed and vague plan. I had to discover their intentions for coming in such numbers. To start my plan, as much as it filled me with dread, I had to dress myself in the armour of a Harkonian. I dragged off a random corpse away from the battlefield, and quickly stripped it of its armour, donning it myself. To say that I smelled putrid would be an understatement. I went towards the Harkonian encampment. They were celebrating their victory with large kegs of ale and plenty of smoked and roasted meat. When I shambled into the flickering light of their fire, they immediately showed concern.
‘We’ve got another survivor! Get him to the physician!’ One of them shouted. They sat me down on a nearby log, and a wizened and elderly man came to inspect me. After removing my scavenged armour, he inspected my wounds, little suspecting that he was treating a sworn enemy of their nation.
‘Concussion to the back of the head. That would explain why you’re rejoining us at this late hour. A couple of bandages and some rest would be best for you. You’re lucky though, no major open wounds or blood loss.’ It seemed that my injury from the previous battle had served to form an even more convincing bluff. I knew I couldn’t speak, because my accent would immediately give away my ruse. The physician didn’t seem to mind, however, and bandaged my more major wounds carefully.
‘You seem fairly young. I can understand why you aren’t so talkative. Seeing war upfront can give even the hardiest of men quite a shock.’ After dressing my injuries, he wandered away to tend to another patient. This encounter gave me more perspective on the people I had declared my sworn enemies. They aren’t the monsters I had seen in the days of my youth. They were just as capable of compassion and empathy as any Arcanian. However, I knew that I could not be idle at a time like this. My first priority was to discover the motivation behind this major attack. Using the skills I had learned wandering the streets of Stromfor, I disappeared into the shadows. The settling mists helped conceal me as I wandered through the gigantic patch of tents. My first thought was to find out the chain of command in the Harkonians’ ranks. If I could find out who was in charge, then I could find a way to discover what they were up to, whether it were eavesdropping on the right conversation, or finding a written document which detailed their plans. Lacking any information to go on, I decided that the largest tent probably held the person whom was in charge of this gigantic fighting force. Someone who leads isn’t likely to give himself the smallest tent. Sure enough, one tent stood out like a mountain among many tiny hills in the camp. It was a lavish and comfortable tent, designed to keep out the elements to a much higher degree than the tents of the average foot soldiers. I heard muffled voices, so I moved myself to a dark spot and leaned against the thick cloth of the tent. I heard two people arguing with each other. A man and a woman, to be precise.
‘I know you don’t enjoy it, but you must see our enemy as they are crushed. As my daughter, you bear my legacy and will sing of my deeds in the future.’
‘I will not praise nor remember a man who took tens of thousands of men to find an artifact which only exists in legends, and slaughters innocents with no reason to do so!’
‘You are honestly still this naïve? They are Arcanians. They aren’t people, they’re monsters.’
‘You don’t know that. All you’ve done is follow old hatreds and never thought about the truth.’
‘The truth is plainly obvious. And I hope you will see it one day.’ After this last line, I see a massive man walk out of the tent’s entrance. His hair was grey and he was going bald in patches, but he seemed filled with great vigour and strength. He wandered in the direction of where his troops were celebrating, and seemingly jumped in to join them. Whoever the woman was, she seemed to be greatly upset with the events of the last couple of days. I decided to take my chances, and I sneaked my way through the front entrance of the tent. She was beautiful, you know. Lush black hair, icy blue eyes and a face as radiant as the rising sun. She was sitting on a large and elaborate bed, and didn’t notice me until I made my presence extremely obvious. She also leapt through the roof to see a young and battered stranger in her tent.
‘Who are you?’ She immediately asked.
‘Oh, I’m just a monster, nothing notable.’ I replied. She immediately noticed my accent, and her eyes widened.
‘Arcanian.’ She looked upon me with pity more than fear or hatred.
‘The slaves at home are all Arcanian. My father thinks that I spend too much time listening to them. But, why are you here? My father will return soon!’
‘No he won’t. He went off to enjoy some drinks with his soldiers.’
‘Oh… Then he won’t be back soon. But, you haven’t answered my questio
n…’
‘I came here to discover why there are so many Harkonian troops here. What could be so important along the border to warrant this many soldiers?’ She seemed to bite her tongue at this point, unsure of my intentions.
‘Well, I know that Arcana is Harkon’s sworn enemy... But quite frankly, this has to be stopped. My father is extremely egotistical. He seeks to find an ancient artifact mentioned in the old legends of Harkon called the Stromfor…’ That is when I noticed something which suddenly made this conversation make a lot more sense to me. Arcanians know when there is magic at work, and the girl was clearly enchanted. Those Arcanian slaves she mentioned had been manipulating her thoughts with magic. Though I loathe the use of witchcraft for the manipulation of people, I was not going to throw away this opportunity.
‘… Stromfor? Could you explain further?’
‘Stromfor was a shining jewel of immeasurable wealth. Whoever owned it could own anything he dreamed of.’
‘The Stromfor I know is a city, not an artifact. I suppose you could liken it to a jewel, but it’s definitely not a jewel in the literal sense…’
‘… The legend actually makes a lot more sense now. However, nothing is going to persuade my father to abandon his search for the jewel which doesn’t exist. His ego is far too great.’
‘I take it you don’t exactly have the best relationship…’
‘No, to say the least. I know that Arcanians aren’t monsters, but my father seems intent on slaughtering them with no even a single shred of guilt. Have you seen any of the villages around here?’ After I nodded, her expression became grim.
‘Everyone killed, no prisoners taken. Women, children, old, sick, anyone and everyone.’ Recalling that information wasn’t easy for me, since it reminded me so much of the traumatic events of my childhood.
‘That is why I have told you his plans. Please, stop this madness. I want to go home.’
‘I will be leaving now. I must inform the military of what happened here, and why it happened. Thank you.’ Not wishing to rely on the commander’s drinking habits, I quickly disappeared into the misty night. I managed to gather a bag of supplies by sneaking off with the various foods and drinks the soldiers were enjoying after their victory. Delay was not something I could afford, since such a large army was bound to get impatient if it waits for too long. There was plenty of plunder to be had yet, and their appetite for loot was far from sated. My biggest problem was that I lacked any sort of an idea of where I had to go in order to get back home. Arcana is a gigantic country, and I was all the way on the other side of it. So, I just had to take…
Much to Jacques’ surprise, Isaac interrupts.
‘I am sorry, Jacques. But something has been bothering me, and I wish to discuss it with you.’ Preferring to work with Isaac rather than antagonize him, Jacques agrees.
‘Go on, Isaac.’
‘Brahm told me our destination is the Greatspire Castle, and that we were going to meet his brother, the king. What exactly do you plan to do when you get there?’
‘Aren’t we concerned about my past, not my future at the moment? And why is my business with the king of such great interest to you?’ Realising that his idle questioning has gotten him into dangerous territory, Isaac tries to think of an excuse for his curiosity.
‘I’m a scholar, Jacques. I’m assigned to your life story, and I have to record every detail, right?’
‘While true, you shouldn’t be jumping ahead. I’ll tell you about why I want to meet Malaach, king of Harkon, when it is relevant to my chronicle. I think we’ve done enough for today.’ Seeing that Jacques isn’t going to be persuaded otherwise, Isaac meekly nods his head and backs his writing tools away.
‘We are back on the road tomorrow. You had best be ready to travel by then.’
Arcana: A recollection Page 9
