“If you invoke divine power to smite someone,” Emlyn smirks, “a cleric from the same god isn’t going to have much luck healing them. They might not die, but no amount of healing spells is going to undo that smite completely. If you can find a cleric from a different god, then maybe. I’ve yet to test that, but it might work, especially if the two gods in question aren’t on friendly terms. There Elgan’s bodyguards were, the next day, limping and bandaged with no explanation of how they ended up in that shape. After that little incident, I had a couple of female paladins I knew come, and they did go to the latrine and the bathing area with me from then on. During one of his visits, the king asked me why they were there. When I told the king what had happened, he donated to the temple along with a personal request to ensure that they were allowed to remain with me.”
“Why was Elgan so sure you were going to replace him?” Gramin asks.
“Because I was,” Emlyn flashes a wolfish grin, “I’d already beaten two of his sons in the annual trials. Both of them were younger and in better shape. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to take me in the individual challenge, and he wasn’t so sure he could take me in the melee challenge. He knew that he’d have to win the melee decisively, which would mean that my challenge would result in a tie. A tie like that would go to the King for him to make a decision and be the tiebreaker. Elgan wasn’t sure that he could win the melee, either. I’d successfully rebuffed every melee challenge since arriving at the conclave. I rebuffed at least sixty, and probably closer to eighty, challenges at the conclave. I fought two or three a day to answer all of them for the month of the conclave. Because of my age and gender, everyone wanted to challenge me. They all thought I would provide them with an easy win. I’d also been rebuffing challenges from the Third and Fourth Awsts I’d displaced. Both of them wanted their posts back. Between the two of them, that was probably another couple of dozen challenges. Elgan had no reason to think that I’d lose to him after having won so many times against so many others. Just knowing that I had a deal with Bedo to replace him as First Awst was already rattling Elgan’s cage. Unlike Bedo, I wasn’t willing to cut a deal with Elgan to let him retire with his pension. I didn’t trust Elgan as far as I could fling him. I never would have trusted him to keep his word on that sort of thing. After that business in the bathing area, I was out for a bit of blood because I was dead certain that he’d put them up to it.”
Frowning, Argonath asks, “Is everything among your people so competitive?”
Loket, Gramin, and Emlyn all reply with “Yes.”
“Worth among us had to be proven,” Emlyn explains, “The only gift you were given was the rank you got from your House at the age of eight when you were seeded into your first tournament. After that, you worked for everything that you got. If it had been left up to others to decide, they wouldn’t have selected me because I was female and too young. Our system allowed underdogs and dark horses to thrive and prosper when we were superior to the expected candidates in various areas. I was the youngest female, by quite a lot, to ever come through a conclave undefeated and one of the youngest of either gender ever to do so. I was also the granddaughter of one of our greatest generals. I learned my craft at his knee, literally. That man taught me everything he knew, starting almost as soon as I could walk.”
“I knew he’d been schooling you,” Gramin says, “but I didn’t realize he started that early.”
“His bedtime stories,” Emlyn rolls her eyes, “They were terrible. It was generally something out of Phiceros’ Battle Formations or Drusus’ Terrain Management or Amilco’s History of War or Melchior’s Lives of the Great Generals or Sejarah’s War and Politics or something similar.”
“That’s some heavy reading,” Argonath comments.
“Try being five and having your grandfather turn them into your bedtime stories,” Emlyn replies, “Five is just the first one I can remember. I’m absolutely certain that man started reading those to me while I was still swaddled in my cradle. He was determined that, since none of his children had a military bent that at least one of us grandchildren would pick up that mantle and become the next great general from our House.”
Loket chuckles, “I can see Melfyn bouncing you to burp you and reading Edle’s Tactical Thinking.”
“I can’t complain,” Emlyn shrugs, “Young as I was, my record would have been impressive for someone three times my age. Many tried to push me to fail by assigning me tasks they thought were impossible. I might have to think for a bit, but I’d find a way to do them. My methods were often unconventional.”
“How unconventional?” Argonath asks.
“Let me give you an example,” Emlyn replies, “I was still Geward Marchog when the Fourth Awst at the time sent me to stop the Kegians. A Lieutenant General is your equivalent, I think. I only had about sixty thousand troops, and not enough to face down the entire Kegian army, which was three or four times our size. Since I didn’t have enough troops to do it head-on, I found an alternate path. We had a type of ant that was particularly fond of wood and would ravenously devour it. They could render a catapult or trebuchet useless in a few days. They were drawn to certain substances, so we skirmished a bit and made it seem like we were somewhat ineffective with our siege engines. What they didn’t realize is that the spheres we were flinging that failed to catch fire would draw in the ants.”
“I remember those nasty little creatures,” Loket nods, “They had quite a sting too. That’s how we ended up with one of our carts stuck during the p’tah swarm. We’d run through something they liked, and those damn ants ate part of one wheel and the axel.”
“We’d splattered plenty of things we knew would attract the ants to their siege engines and the Kegians’ camp,” Emlyn grins, “then we stopped fighting and pulled back, ostensibly to negotiate. What we needed was to give the ants a few days to do their work and ensure we were out of range. Two or three days later, there wasn’t a scrap of wood left in their whole camp. Tent poles, shields, saddle trees, carts, storage crates, siege engines – anything made of wood - was all rotten and ready to fall apart. The Kegian General invited me to a negotiation where we ended up sitting on the ground because all the chairs were rotten. He made some comments about hoping that another unknown group wouldn’t attack them. I told him that next time I ordered a doll, maybe he should let the traders deliver it instead of making me come get it.”
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“Oh Girlie,” Gramin grins, “No wonder the Kegians stopped harassing us on our trading runs.”
“He stared at me for the longest and finally said, ‘Oh, Gods! You’re the granddaughter. That wasn’t some made-up thing.’,” Emlyn laughs, “They settled with us and withdrew pretty quickly after that. I don’t think it had ever occurred to him that Grandda was telling the truth. The doll was for my youngest sister’s naming day. These three, plus Papa Otrin, were the ones bringing it, so my friends and I went to get it and them. Grandda couldn’t send regular troops since it would have started an all-out war with the Kegians. The Kegian army had the nasty habit of robbing traders, so we were all a bit worried about the four of you.” Emlyn gets quiet and teary-eyed. “Damn I miss them,” she says heaving a big sigh and putting her head on Atres’s shoulder. “The seven of us could take on anything.”
Patiently, Atres pours out comfort while Emlyn sniffles. “Oh, lass, it sounds like they were remarkably good friends. Miss them, grieve for them, as you should. My shoulder is always available. When we visit Dotara, I’ll take you up into the mountains to the place where we put up memorials. I’ll help you carve their names into the wall.”
Once Emlyn quiets a bit, Atres grins, “You still need to go see Abato today and ask about some pets.”
“He said the third hour, didn’t he? I suppose we should get going,” Emlyn nods.
The carriage pulls up to the duke’s castle, and Atres leaps out, turning and lifting Emlyn down. Benger follows, smirking. The trio goes to the gate guard, who calls a page to escort them to Abato’s basement lair. Emlyn enters, followed by Atres and Benger, to find Abato, Hrogarth, Damaranth, Mendek, and Ralbi all waiting.
“Ah, my incandescent goddess,” Abato grins, “What’s this about some of the seer’s pets giving you pause?”
“It depends on what they are, Abato,” Emlyn replies, “My oaths might compel me to do something about them.”
“This particular seer is a strange one,” Abato shrugs, “She has a… penchant for undead animals.”
“I suppose I can see my way past that,” Emlyn nods, “but if there are people in that state…”
“She says that they do not disturb her sight like living pets,” Abato shrugs.
“Very well. So long as they’re animals and nothing more, I give you my word not to turn her pets,” Emlyn replies.
“You two can come,” Abato says, waving his hand at Atres and Benger, “but you’ll have to wait in the carriage with Ralbi. This seer doesn’t like Ralbi much.”
“How do you know this woman is any good?” Atres frowns, “I don’t like this.”
“She’s proven to be extremely accurate for me in the past,” Abato shrugs, “I’ve found no cause to doubt her visions or to suspect trickery.”
“Let’s go and see if she can’t tell us something of what this Divaros is and perhaps how we might be able to defeat him,” Emlyn grimaces, “The sooner started, the sooner done.”
As the group is walking out, Hrogarth stops Atres, “I like her. She’ll be safe.”
Without waiting for a reply, Hrogarth falls in behind Emlyn, leaving Atres to follow.
Once in the carriage, Emlyn finds herself sandwiched between Hrogarth and Atres. Benger, Abato, and Ralbi are in the other seats. Mendek swings up beside the driver, and Damaranth takes the footman’s stand before they rumble toward the gate. Abato pulls out some scarves and hands one to Emlyn, Benger, and Atres.
“If you would be so kind as to blindfold yourselves,” Abato says, “I’d do yours, my incandescent goddess, but I fear Atres would take it amiss.”
Atres glances at Hrogarth, who gives him an almost imperceptible nod. Sighing heavily, Atres ties Emlyn’s blindfold before tying his own. Benger frowns but ties the blindfold.
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Benger grumbles.
“It’s her carriage,” Abato shrugs, “We all get one, but I have to make sure that all of you have one before I manage my own.”
“I like this less and less,” Atres says, “If you do anything to hurt her, I’ll have your hide.”
“I’ve gone to a considerable bit of trouble,” Abato replies, “to ensure that my incandescent goddess remains just as incandescent as she possibly can be. I’m a bit… distressed to know that you think I would ever allow anything to befall her that might be within my power to prevent.”
“She’ll be safe,” Hrogarth repeats himself, “I’ll see to it. Even if you don’t trust Abato, you can trust me on that.”
Grimacing beneath his blindfold, Atres subsides into silence. To his surprise, Emlyn reaches over and takes his hand. The carriage rumbles through the city and makes several turns before it seems to leave the city, judging by the changes in noise. Finally, it pulls to a halt, and Atres whips off his blindfold and removes Emlyn’s. Hrogarth is first out of the carriage and pulls out some steps. Offering Emlyn his hand, he helps her to the ground. Abato is next, and he shuts the door.
“You gentlemen will have to remain here,” Abato says, “We’ll be back, never fear.”
Seeing Atres’s look, Hrogarth nods and tucks Emlyn’s hand into his arm.
The residence was once clearly quite elegant, if not overly large. The landscape is now overgrown, and the house itself seems to need some repairs. One shutter hangs at an odd angle. A turret, with a domed top, sits on one side, and judging by the staggered windows, it holds a staircase to a second story. The stone walls are covered with winter-killed vines. The slate roof still seems to be weatherproof, and smoke curls lazily out of one of the chimneys. The entrance to the rest of the L-shaped structure is near, and a very faded red door swings open, seemingly of its own volition. No resident or servant is observable. Mumbling a prayer, Emlyn moves resolutely toward the open door.
Emlyn steps inside, looking around curiously. Everything seems to be decorated sumptuously in shades of purple and dark grey. While the color scheme is somewhat subdued, it’s a riot of patterns and textures. Abato steps around Emlyn in the entryway and gestures for her to follow. Leading the way, in a place he’s familiar with, Abato leads them toward the back of the house, and coming to a door, he raps lightly. A tall, tanned, dark-haired, and dark-eyed woman dressed in a very revealing black dress opens the door. The dress seems to be secured strategically down the front with brooches, set with a variety of gems. The sides are split nearly to her hips. The outer layer of the ensemble is a sleeveless garment that resembles a cross between a coat and a cloak, swirling around her as she moves. Long black gloves, adorned with a variety of gem-encrusted bangles and rings, multiple gem-crusted necklaces, and soft black boots complete the outfit.
The woman reaches out and runs her hand down Abato’s face and neck until she reaches his shirt. Giving his shirt a slight tug, the woman smiles at Abato.
“Bring her in, then. Let’s get a look at this incandescent goddess of yours.”
Frowning at the familiarity of the woman’s gesture to Abato, Emlyn steps forward, and Hrogarth moves with her.
Giving Hrogarth a sly look, the woman says, “Hrogarth, you old dog. You’ve got gray hairs older than her.”
“I promised,” Hrogarth says simply.
Eyebrows raised, the woman circles Emlyn, studying her while Emlyn remains standing, holding Hogarth’s arm placidly.
“Hmm…. Very interesting,” the woman mutters.
Want to binge the future? > I have months of backlog for Order of the Storm Crow waiting for you. Get 50+ chapters ahead of Royal Road today!
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Current Count: 60 "Valkis Growls" and 1 "Protective Blindfolding."
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Observation: "Atres is vibrating with distrust today. He tied Nia’s blindfold himself, likely to make sure Abato’s 'shifty fingers' didn't get too close to her hair. He also threatened to have Abato’s hide if anything happened to her. It was almost poetic, if it weren't so cliché. He’s currently stuck in a carriage with Benger while Nia goes inside to meet a woman dressed in what I can only describe as 'more gems than fabric.' The jealousy is practically leaking through the carriage door."
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Official Entry: Visitor Log: Undisclosed location; Attendees: Paladin Nia, Spymaster Abato, Guard Hrogarth.
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Boltir’s Correction: "RE-LABELLED: 'The Blind Leading the Brawn.' I’ve added a margin note that any seer who lives in a house covered in 'winter-killed vines' really needs to hire a better gardener—or a bard to liven up the place. Also, I’ve crossed out the description of the seer’s dress. 'Revealing' is a technical term; 'Distracting for everyone including the spirits' is more accurate. I’ve drawn a picture of Atres sulking in the carriage to provide proper emotional context."
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Current Jar Total: 480 coppers, a purple silk scrap, and a map that leads to a wall.
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Boltir’s Plea: "The seer is circling Nia like a shark! She called Hrogarth an 'old dog' and ignored Abato’s tugging shirt-tails. My muse is just standing there 'holding Hrogarth’s arm placidly.' That’s my girl—calm in the eye of the storm! Toss a coin in the jar, kin! I’m saving up for a 'Parchment of Spirit-Warding' just in case those undead pets decide they want a dwarven snack. Leave a review if you think Nia should have head-butted the seer for getting too close to her personal space!"
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Want to binge the future? > I have months of backlog for Order of the Storm Crow waiting for you. Get 50+ chapters ahead of Royal Road today!