Chaos of Choice: Book Four - Chapter Four

 

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Chapter Four

Vythe Varrintine rode along the Road to Lancer with a sparkle in his eye and a whistle on his lips. Sufficient to say he was in a good mood, and why would he not be? Inüer was shining brightly, gentle plumes of clouds rolled across the deep blue sky as they were carried on a cool breeze. With Winter’s claws strongly embedded in the land it was a rare warm day, and Vythe was enjoying every minute of it. A false Spring some would call it, but Vythe never understood that saying and he thought it overly optimistic considering there were still sixty days of Winter left. The warmer weather had delightfully followed him since he left the town of Garrald and lingered for many days.

Unfortunately this horse was nothing compared to his steed Squall who he sadly lost since he was teleported from the battlefield when the Nevārancien ships toppled down upon them. This buckskin mare he now rode was passing middle age and had clearly spent a life working the fields in Garrald, the farmer who had sold her had been quite pleased at the sale considering she was too old to be of effective use anymore. Though the farmer had asked double her worth Vythe had handed the coins over, as he considered it a small price to save the mare from the slaughter, and to save his feet from the walk. The buckskin horse, who he had named Koorra, also seemed to be in high spirits and had noticeably improved in condition and demeanour since he had departed from Garrald.

Having passed through Lancer several days prior Vythe had been surprised to see the dramatic change that the city had gone through. Once infamous for its corruption, shady dealings and general lawlessness it had gone through incredible changes. Lancer was built in the deep of two great mountains, originally as a fort used for taxing merchants who were moving between capital cities, and had become very wealthy for it. And considering it was built directly upon the borders of three regions, like Midway, it did not pay any taxes to the Kings of any of the realms. As such Lancer had become overflowing with gold and corruption causing it to receive the name The Lawless City of Lancer where nothing was considered illegal.

But much to Vythe’s surprise Lancer had changed a great deal now that the warriors from Nevārance had decided to claim Lancer as their own, and most of the former occupants had left. The city had seemed very different when Vythe had stayed there one night. Although those from Nevārance were not particularly welcoming, many of the taverns were still in operation and still owned by the original people. Vythe had asked one tavern owner why he had stayed, and the man had just shrugged and said: ‘This is my home and business, an I ain’t moving for no one.’ This seemed reasonable enough to Vythe.

His greatest surprise had come when he learnt that Lancer had become a form of haven for elves and dwarves who had been discriminated against greatly by humans, and many of whom had given him dark looks.

Vythe was also excited to see the advancements that those from Nevārance had created within the city. New towers of metal and stone had been built, of the like he had never seen before. The foreign sounds of machinery echoed through the streets and Vythe was marvelled by the unusual items that some of the merchants now sold. He would have liked to have lingered within the walls of Lancer but, alas, his family matters forced him to leave.

A few days out of Lancer he was again marvelled when passing a convoy of Nevārancien warriors who were transporting parts of their destroyed ships to Lancer.

Vyth had learnt after the battle on the Morrow Plains that many more of the crafts from Nevārance had crashed down near each of the capital cities, and subsequently been destroyed by the wave of Fog that had rushed across the land.

The brief stay in Lancer and the beautiful day was why Vythe was in such a good mood.

“We shall be in Midway soon, Koorra,” Vythe remarked to the horse and gave it a pat on the neck. “A place you have not likely seen before, and probably will never again. It’s a strange looking town to be sure, but tavern is home to the best food and ale in all the north. Folk are friendly in Midway and we will both find a moment to rest in comfort.”

Koorra snorted and shook its head, causing Vythe’s smile to widen.

Early that morning they trotted down a slope and across a small stone bridge that forded a merry creek. On the other side of the stream was a wide flat bank and a cairn of rocks, Vythe looked grimly at the pile of rubble and the vines and grass that had started to climb over it. His mind flashed back to the time when he, Fairris and Lieut had come this way as they ventured to Port Na’brath after escaping from the Gaia Mountains Penitentiary, and where he killed his once friend Elardōre. Under that pile of rubble somewhere Vythe knew Elardōre’s body was, crushed and rotting and never again able to hurt someone.

Vythe sighed loudly as he urged Koorra up the next rise and past the cairn. Elardōre had not always been deranged, and once they had been close friends. It had only been after they encountered the demon in the Void had Elardōre changed so much. Perhaps that demon had somehow reached into Elardōre’s mind and broken it, Vythe could not tell, and it was not something he wanted to think about.

It was around midday by the time Vythe rode over the rise in the path to look down upon the famous Midway Inn. Vythe let out a cry of surprise and horror and reined Koorra to a halt, his mouth hung agape as he looked down upon the remnants of Midway.

Once there stood three walls which marked the division of the regions and at its centre a proud tower. Once there were many houses happily situated in the three wedges of Midway. But now all that could be seen was a blackened crater of ash and rubble. As if in a horrifying dream Vythe rode the buckskin mare down the slope and into the circle of blackened earth. The walls lay in broken piles of stone, the once proud tower now completely crumbled and all that was left of the houses were charcoal skeletons. Luckily all the fires had been extinguished but the flame that must have gutted the town several nights ago would have been fierce.

Despite the completeness of the disaster it seemed that some had survived and had begun to rebuild the tavern that Midway was famous for. Slowly Vythe rode towards the centre of the ruined town, his dark eyes wide as he looked around at the destruction. No simple fire could have caused such devastation, he realised, such destruction could only be cause by magicks.

“You won’t find much rest here traveller,” said a burly man who had come to meet Vythe.    

“What happened?” Vythe asked in bewilderment as he dropped from Koorra’s saddle.   

The strong man shrugged and shook his head, “We don’t know, most of us are from the farms to the east. Saw the huge fire ball a few nights ago, came and saw this. Such destruction, what could have caused it?”

The man shook his head again, “My brother was living here, can’t even find his body.”

Vythe looked solemnly around, his former good mood shattered.

“Were there no survivors?” Vythe asked as he dropped from his horse.

“One,” the big man replied seriously, “But I ain’t sure if you can call him that, his mind is gone completely, just mumbles chimera over and over.”

The remarked concerned Vythe a little, but he passed it off as the ramblings of a mad man, and followed the big man to where many others were rebuilding the Midway tavern.

“Are there no soldiers from Gaianaus or Sesserrech here?” Vythe asked curiously as he looked about.

The man shook his head, “None have come and I doubt any will with greater hostility happening between the two realms. We pray to The Five that some aid will come and help rebuild.”

“You will rebuild?” Vyth nodded with a smile, “I am glad to hear that.”

“’Course we will,” the man was quick to reply, “The Midway is an iconic spot, we have been sending messages to all reaches of the realms asking for aid. Next time you come through here sir, Midway will be as lively as ever, and the ale just as good.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Vythe smiled and greeted many of the workers who had stopped to regard him. “Perhaps I can help, though much of the Fog is gone I can still use some spells that could aid you.”

“Damn magicks user,” screamed one woman and angrily walked toward Vythe. “Curse the lot of yous who use magicks, it was same damn thing that what caused this. Get out of here scum, we don’t want your sort.”

Vythe was so taken aback that he could not think to reply, and looking around at the crowd he could see that many of the others thought the same way as the woman.

“Calm yourself Jane, he was offering help,” the big man intercepted the angry woman before turning to Vythe.

“We can do without such help,” another man spoke up and many more people agreed.

“Calm yourselves, all of you,” the big man said loudly before turning to Vythe, “Perhaps you should leave though sir.”

“I only meant,” Vythe began to reply but the woman screamed more curses at him.

Quickly the big man tried to calm the crowd and led Vythe away.

“Forgive Jane, traveller,” the big man said when they moved away from the people, “She was visiting her sister out at the farms when it happened, her husband is dead along with their three children.”

Vythe nodded stiffly.

“Perhaps I can aid in another way,” Vythe said composing himself, “Take this.”

Vythe pulled from his belt a full pouch of coins and tossed it to the man, whose eyes widened when he looked inside.

“Thank you for your kindness good sir,” the big man smiled.

Vythe was about to swing up into Koorra’s saddle when a group of soldiers to the north caught his eye.

“It seems Gaianaus has come to aid after all,” Vythe remarked and pointed to the coming soldiers.

“Praise The Five,” the big man smiled wide and he moved to greet the soldiers, “Praise Artāre, praise Anduěr and Antōre, praise them all.”

Vythe was about to follow but he hesitated for this detachment of soldiers seemed more of a war party then one bringing aid. There had to be near on one hundred soldiers that marched into the broken town of Midway causing the villagers to hurriedly move aside with concerned expressions upon their faces.

Thinking it was past time that he was on his way Vythe started to lead Koorra from the town.

“Hold Sesserrechien,” a group of five soldiers called to him as they came from the main platoon. “What business do you have here?”

Vythe cursed quietly and turned to the soldiers who had recognised the design of his vest as being that of a noble family in Sesserrech.

“Merely travelling home,” Vythe dismissed the question.

“Not anymore you are not,” said the leader of the soldiers, “I think you should come with us.”

Vythe could see that the soldiers were in no mood for him to try and debate the issue and their hands twitched eagerly by their swords.

“Hey Captain,” one of the other guards said softly to the leader, “He’s a Varrintine. The second house in Port Na’brath.”

The leader of the guards looked quickly to his friend and then back to Vythe and nodded slightly.

The soldier’s expression made Vythe feel suddenly uncomfortable and he considered disposing of this group of soldiers and quickly moving on his way. But there was no way he could do so without grabbing the attention of the other hundred soldiers now in Midway.

“You, inform the Commander,” the Captain said to one of the soldiers, “As for you master Varrintine I suggest you do not make any trouble.”

Vythe sighed heavily and realised that he had very few options.

The soldier that the Captain sent away soon returned with commands that Vythe be taken to the north west and to The Chasm.

At this news a sense of curiosity sparked within Vythe and he decided to see where this was going. So Vythe gave no resistance as the group of five soldiers gathered some mounts of their own and instructed Vythe to come with them.

Vythe looked to the south as the group rode from the ruins of Midway. The news from his father had seemed pressing but the current turn of events were too intreguing to pass up. Besides if things did begin to get dull Vythe was confident he could get himself out of trouble.

His curiosity was the only reason he did not escape the entourage as they travelled for three days towards the north and west along the Northern Longroad before branching westwards to The Chasm. The pleasant weather followed them from Midway but as they came upon the great gorge in the ground called The Chasm some heavy clouds had begun to form.

The Chasm itself was an immense ravine that carved a wound in the earth along the entire eastern side of the Scarred Mountains. The ravine was hundreds of miles long and ten times deeper, though it was said that the actual depth of The Chasm had never been recorded.

Vythe’s eyes widened as The Chasm came into view, but his surprise was not because of the grand canyon in the earth, for he had seen it before. His surprise was at the sight of hundreds of tents and campfires that lined the cliff. The many banners of Gaianaus blew in the cold wind and hundreds of soldiers looked at Vythe curiously as he and the five soldiers rode through the camp and to a large dark green tent that stood taller than the rest.

“In you go,” the Captain of the soldiers that brought Vythe here said, “He’s waiting for you.”

“Who is?” Vythe asked curiously, but the Captain did not reply and motioned for him to entre.

Curiously Vythe pushed his way through the opening to see three soldiers talking among themselves, one of which seeming a Lord by appearance.

“You,” one of the other soldiers breathed in shock.

The dark haired man seemed familiar to Vythe, but he could not place him.

“Have we met before?” Vythe asked curiously.

“Foglornt Forrest, two years ago,” the soldier said stiffly, “I was ordered to have you executed but your Sātor allies killed my friends. Remember now?”

Vythe’s eyes widened as the memory came back to him, “Nigel, Captain Nigel, am I right? I am shocked you are still alive, and surprised you transferred so quickly from King Lienthor’s army to fighting for Gaianaus. Is this the reason why I am here? You want revenge for the deaths of your friends?”

“Is it Commander now, actually,” Nigel replied, “But that is not why you are here.”

“I had you brought here,” the man who seemed as a noble interjected before looking to the two other men in the tent. “Commanders would you leave us.”

Nigel and the other Commander nodded and left the tent without saying a word and Vythe looked curiously to the Lord.

“I assume you have a message for me,” the Lord said once the others had left.

“I do apologise, but I have no idea what you are speaking about,” Vythe replied, confusion coming to his features.

“You are from house Varrintine correct?” the Lord asked irritably and Vythe nodded. “So speak. What news from Lord Varrintine?”

“I am Vythe Varrintine, and my father is Lord Varrintine,” Vythe said as he tried to work through his confusion, “But, I am sorry, who are you?”

“I, am the Baron of Issia,” the Lord said authoritatively, “Baron Ellengar, first of his name and ruler of Gaianaus and all the north. And I am not used to such insolent behaviour.”

Vythe was taken aback and stumbled over a few words before composing himself and bowing low in respect.

“I apologise, my Lord,” Vythe said coming out of the bow, “But please forgive me, I do not bring any message from my father. I was in fact returning home through Midway when your soldiers arrested and brought me here. I have no knowledge of what communications you may have with my house. But if my Lord tells me of what news he was expecting I might be of some aid.”

The Baron regarded Vythe closely for a few seconds, his blue eyes studying every inch of Vythe.

“It seems my assumptions have gotten the better of me,” Baron Ellengar finally said, “Lord Cardonian has yet to repay me for breaking the Treaty of Neutrality and aiding him with his war on King Lienthor. I have stationed my army along the northern borders of Sesserrech to pressure Lord Cardonian to pay me what is owed. And your father, master Varrintine, has been funding this campaign.”

The news came as a surprise to Vythe, but he realised that he should not be too surprised. His father had always been politically astute and quick to grasp an opportunity.

“I had sent word of our move to take Midway to Lord Varrintine and was awaiting a response,” Baron Ellengar continued, “I assumed you were bringing that response.”

Vythe let out a small laugh and shook his head, “Alas I am not baring any message my Lord.”

Baron Ellengar nodded slowly and sighed before a slight smile came to his face and he shook his head in bemusement.

“It seems I must wait a while yet,” the Baron remarked as he moved over a desk covered with papers and parchment. “You may leave when you wish master Varrintine.”

Vythe bowed, “Thank you my Lord. I apologise for the inconvenience, I know my brothers and I all look similar.”

The Baron chuckled and Vythe turned to leave just as Commander Nigel cautiously poked his head inside the tent.

“Baron,” Nigel called, “Excuse me sire. But there is a master Varrintine here wishing to have an audience with you.”

Baron Ellengar chuckled again and ran a hand through his thick black hair.

“Show him in Commander,” the Baron motioned and a few seconds later Vythe’s brother entered the tent.

“Vythe?” his brother exclaimed upon seeing him, “What are you doing here?”

“It is good to see you also, Vhindr,” Vythe replied dryly before embracing his brother warmly. “I am here due to a misunderstanding and was just about to depart.”

“Good,” Vhindr nodded, “Our father has been waiting for you. Alas that time is so pressing else it would have been nice to spend some time together.” 

“We will soon,” Vythe smiled warmly.

“Be careful on the roads little brother,” Vhindr returned the smile and Vythe left the Baron’s tent.

It would have been nice to spend some time with his brother, but Vythe had already been delayed and as Vhindr had said: his father was indeed waiting for him.

Outside Vythe saw Commander Nigel waiting for him with his horse Koorra.

“Thank you,” Vythe said awkwardly as he took the reins, “I understand if you bare ill feelings towards me.”

“Things happen,” Nigel quickly interjected, “It can’t be helped, nor changed. Best to leave the past where it is.”

The young Commander said no more and walked away leaving Vythe alone with Koorra.

With a sigh Vythe swung up into the saddle and urged his horse into a trot and out of the camped army.

The next day the heavy clouds released its cold rain upon Vythe’s head and made his journey quite miserable. For the rest of the trip along the Northern Longroad to Port Na’brath the clouds hung around bringing brief yet chilling sprays of rain and making the nights very cold. Although the woman at Midway had not been thankful for his magicks Vythe certainly was during these cold days, and no doubt the buckskin mare was also.

Vythe’s ride along the Northern Longroad which stretched between the city of Issia and that of Port Na’brath was an uneventful one, although he did past many remnants of attacked caravans. Assaulted either by Grenlocks, which were known for their presence along the Northern Longroad, or by elves, which had only recently become a threat.

With the gloomy weather and the events of Midway still fresh in his mind Vyth was relieved to look up at the tall walls of Port Na’brath and thoughts of seeing his family again brought a smile to his face.

Vythe’s eyes were also filled with wonder as he looked upon a broken Nevārancien ship that stood to the north of the city’s walls. He would have liked to move closer and inspect the ship, but his business was pressing and the he had already been delayed long enough by the Baron of Issia.

“Perhaps another time,” Vythe mumbled as he rode towards the gates of the city.

Proudly Vythe pushed his shoulders back to clearly display the design of his rich black leather and gold vest, which showed him to be a noble of the house Varrintine, as he came to the gates of the city.

“Greeting m’lord,” hailed one of the guardsmen, recognising the design of Vythe’s vest.

“And to you, good sirs,” Vythe smiled as he recognised both guards as being in his father’s employ, “How have things been in our fair city?”

“Not so good m’lord,” replied the other guard, “Your house Varrintine and Cardonian make new disputes daily. Them at the Thieves Guild run rampant and the rich folk complain constantly. Been more murders about too. I tell ya, these days are growing dark, mark my words.”

“How are things in The Pit?” asked Vythe, referring to the poor portion of the city.

The first guard shrugged, “Much as they have always been. The Guild keeps things in pretty good order, but it’s getting harder. Your friend Grenorl still runs the Guild, though I hear he has been consulting Sārlien more often, which I ain’t saying is a bad thing.”

Both the guards had a chuckle at that and Vythe joined them. Having been a member of the Thieves Guild during his rebellious days Vythe came to know many of the guards in The Pit, along with all the other influential individuals.

“Perhaps I shall go and see Grenorl,” Vythe mused, “It has been a while.”  

“Your dad won’t want that,” the second guard was quick to say, and moved close to Vythe’s side. “You are wanted in Elmnest m’lord, specific demand from Lord Varrintine,” the guard whispered.

“No one is to know of this, I take it,” Vythe sighed and both guards nodded. “Very well, I suppose I must. But it would have been nice to sleep in a bed once again.”

Vythe sighed again, “Farewell gentlemen, it was nice seeing the two of you again.”

“And you m’lord,” both guards nodded and Vythe reined his horse away from the inviting gates of the Port.

For two days Vythe followed the wall of Port Na’brath to the south before taking the turn along the road called the West March, before turning from that road and along the trail to Elmnest. Two uneventful days later the banks of Dwarthin Lake came into sight, the light from Inüer shining like diamonds upon its surface. 

The actual town of Elmnest was quite small, situated along the shore of the lake and up against the edge of Elm Forest. This town was one of the few that remained closely and openly associated with members of the Elder Races, namely the group of Valenthōr that called Elm Forest their home.

But Elmnest did not always have such a tranquil feel to it and during the Third Age when Gildon the Betrayer was at his prime, Gildon’s first Commander Delathain, a Wood Elf, marched his army against the Lords of Port Na’brath. Elm Forest was said to have been filled with terrifying spawns of evil, and some even claimed that that those creatures still lingered around the ruined fortress in the southern reaches of the forest. Apart from the bar-side horror story much had changed since Gildon’s day and Elmnest was once again a place of peace and joy, and the Valenthōr that roamed the forest never spoke of any evil creatures in the trees.

Despite its dark history Vythe truly loved coming here to his family’s estate and talking with the friendly folk and elves of Elmnest. But not wanting to be distracted by meeting old friends, especially with his father so anxious to see him, he urged Koorra on faster and took the path that moved to the left of the township.

Very soon he passed between the two rearing stone stallions that marked the entrance to his family estate where they predominately breaded horses and made wines. The rolling green hills passed by and Inüer continued to sparkle of Dwarthin Lake as the large villa appeared at the end of the straight dirt road.

A wide smile was on Vythe’s face as he pulled Koorra to a halt in the small gravel circle at the front of the large house.

“Master Vythe,” exclaimed a young boy as he ran from the side to take Vythe’s horse. “We have been expecting you for a couple of days now.”

“Denel’s youngest, am I right?” Vythe greeted as he dropped from the saddle.

“Yes, m’lord,” the boy beamed back, “Jaynin me name, Lord Varrintine was kind enough to give me work as a stable hand.”

“Take good care of this one Jaynin,” Vythe smiled as he handed the boy the horse’s reins, “Her name is Koorra, I rode her all the way from the small town of Garrald on the western edge of the Grassy Downs.”

The boy’s eyes widened in awe as he looked at Vythe and replied, “Don’t worry m’lord I’ll take good care of her.”

Vythe smiled and gave Koorra a stroke on the muzzle and patted her neck in farewell, before letting Jaynin lead her away. Vythe briefly watched them go before heading to the large doors and pushed through and into the entrance hall.

“Master Varrintine,” an elderly man greeted him with a smile, “I had heard of your return and was overfilled with joy. I remember the days well when you used to run about this house with no shoes on, making a nuisance of yourself, and if the rumours are true that has not changed at all.”

“At least I wear shoes these days,” Vythe laughed, “It is good to see you as well, Alforn. I trust you have been well.”

“Indeed I have, and I thank you Master Varrintine,” the old butler nodded, “Your father is waiting, this way please.”

“Call me Vythe, Alforn,” replied Vythe with a sigh, “How many times must I ask?”

“I was trained by the greatest at the Servantry School in Port Na’brath,” Alforn replied indignantly, “And I shall act with the proper propriety, even if those I serve do not have it.”

Vythe laughed, “I see you have not lost your wit with your age.”

“One would think that maturity comes with age,” the old man smiled back, “But I can see that is not always the case, Master Varrintine.”

Vythe laughed again and Alforn led the way through beautifully handmade redwood door and into one of the many sitting rooms in the estate. There sat his father drinking a cup of tea and reading an old book.

“Master Vythe Varrintine, my Lord,” Alfron announced as they entered, “Can I fetch some more refreshments?”

“No, thank you,” Vythe said and sat down in one of the other soft seats, “Could this not have waited until tomorrow father? I am rather road weary.”

“I am pleased to see you as well,” Lord Vincent Varrintine replied dryly.

Vythe smirked, “Very well, what is it you wanted to discuss so privately.”

“How this family is to survive,” Lord Varrintine replied seriously and put down the book he was reading. “Cardonian rallies many of the Lords behind him and at the same time strikes at us through our businesses. He has already forced three of our merchants to go bankrupt and is pushing hard on the others. Your brothers fight hard as legally as they can while you hide in the far corners of the Grassy Downs.”

“I am here now,” Vythe replied angrily.

His father sighed heavily, “Yes you are, and I am thankful of that. I also realise that we cannot be sitting around for long, else Cardonian will get the better of us.”

“Perhaps we should use less than legal means to beat Cardonian at his own game,” Vythe replied.

Lord Varrintine stood up angrily, “I will not fall to his level, the Varrintine name will not be tainted while I am still at its head.”

“Have I not already tainted it?” Vythe asked, “Besides there is little choice father, if you do not fight through the same means as Cardonian and do it better he will win.”

“You never tainted the Varrintine name, Vythe,” Lord Varrintine said seriously, “I always knew what you were doing and where you were, from your time in the Thieves Guild to the years with Elardōre, I kept my eye on you.”

Vythe was surprised by that fact and stumbled to find the words to reply.

“Perhaps we can employ the aid of the Thieves Guild then,” Vythe suggested.

Lord Varrintine sighed and sat back down, “I fear you may be right, and I think I have known what I had to do for some time now and employ illegal means. But I did not want to admit it.”

“And yet you fund Baron Ellengar’s presence upon the northern borders of this realm,” Vythe said with a sly smile.

“So that is why you were late,” Lord Varrintine remarked understandingly, “Did you happen to see Vhindr while you were there?”

Vythe nodded, “I would have liked to spend some time with him, but I knew you would have not been happy if I intentionally made myself late to arrive here.”

“It has been too long since the whole family has shared a meal together,” Lord Varrintine said sadly, “But it is also why this war with Cardonian needs to be fought appropriately without use of illegal means in case things go awry.”

“It is only illegal if you get caught,” Vythe smiled back, causing Lord Varrintine to smirk and shake his head.

“I shall talk to Sārlien and The Guild,” Vythe said with a nod.

“No, I will do that if it is needed,” Lord Varrintine replied sternly, “You are an adventurer, Vythe, like I was when I was young. You will never be satisfied until you have seen and done everything in this world, so I know the troubles in Port Na’brath will only bore you. No, I have another task I wish you to do.”

Vythe looked to his father curiously, never really knowing what his father had done in his younger days. Vythe was pulled from his thoughts as Alforn opened the door and he quickly rose to his feet to greet the guest Alforn was showing in.

“My Lady,” Vythe nodded his head, “I pray your stay here has been to your liking.”

“Thank you Master Varrintine,” the young woman replied, “But it is past time I return to Crydon.”

“Lady Xanthia, please join us,” Lord Varrintine smiled and motioned for the half Yineth and, widely thought dead, daughter of King Lienthor to take a seat.

“I hope your anger towards me has lessened over the past two years,” Vythe asked hesitantly, as he also sat down.

“Somewhat, yes,” Xanthia replied calmly, “I understand why it needed to be that way, but that does not absolve my anger and frustration in not being able to help my people over these last years. Neither does it excuse the grief your ploy caused to my parents. Not to mention my journey here was terrible. But that is the past, and I am looking to the future and the peace I believe I can create across the realms.”

Vythe smiled slightly and nodded.

“What is the plan then Father?” asked Vythe, “Gather support from Lienthor to help in the Port by returning his daughter who all believed to be dead?”

“Partly,” Lord Varrintine nodded, “But more importantly I have heard that Cardonian’s youngest son, Sir Raermin has been kept prisoner by King Lienthor since the battle on the Morrow Plains. If we can take control of Raermin we will have leverage over Cardonian.”

Vythe looked hesitantly between his father and Princess Xanthia.

“I am not sure Cardonian will react very well to us having his son prisoner,” Vythe said seriously, “He may even react violently.”

“It is not only for leverage,” Lord Varrintine explained, “If we are the ones to pay Raermin’s ransom he will be in our debt, and considering he will be the heir to Cardonain’s rulership, it will be good leverage to have. Even if we fail to unseat Cardonian, Raermin will be his successor, and our ally. Not to mention, Cardonian is suspicious, and if we are the ones to have Raermin freed Cardonian will think his son might be on our side, and that will tear Cardonian apart.”

“Or he will tear Raermin apart,” Vythe replied seriously.

Lord Varrintine shrugged, “I doubt it, but even if he did that will be more than enough to swing the allegiances of the Lords to our side.”

Vythe rubbed a hand across his face as he considered the possibilities and effects of their actions.

“Well Master Varrintine?” Xanthia asked pleasantly, “Will you take me home?”

Vythe nodded slowly, “Very well, I pray that we shall succeed.”

“As do I,” Lord Varrintine nodded, “You shall leave tomorrow morning.”

Vythe sighed again, and Alforn returned to declare that lunch was to be served out on the north eastern terrace. There they had a pleasant meal and Vythe talked with Xanthia about her stay on the estate and her journey from Crydon.

The view of the terrace was far and Vythe could see the old buckskin from Garrald making friends with the other older horses in one of the paddocks close to the house.

Soon it was evening, and still he and Xanthia talked about the events to come and many other things. A slight smile stayed on his face for the entirety of their conversation, lost in the beauty of the half Yineth, her sharp features, her long Yineth ears and her amazing brown and purple eyes that sparkled with inner stars. Vythe became mesmerised by her remarkable diamond shaped pupils and delightful smile.

Vythe thought about trying to charm the princess back to his bed for the night, but he stopped himself and after dinner politely bade Xanthia good night with a kiss on the hand.

The next morning came too quickly for Vythe’s liking and his bed became incredibly comfortable as soon as Alforn woke him. The hour was early with Inüer just beginning to creep over the eastern mountains, but Vythe reluctantly forced himself out of bed and got changed. He ate the breakfast that had been laid out for him and soon he was wide awake and whistling a tune as he skipped down the stairs and met with his father and Xanthia on one of the many balconies.

Vythe found himself lost for breath as he saw Xanthia in her traveling gear. Even though the cool days of Winter gripped the nation she wore clothes that were more suited to Summer adventuring. She wore knee high boots which laced up at the front around silver clips. Tucked into her black boots were tight white pants with lacing up the side of her legs making Vythe wonder how smooth her skin was. Above her belt some of her midriff was bare before the rest was covered by a white top and small black vest with silver buttons. Around the top of the buttons of her white shirt were many frills that danced tantalisingly in the breeze around her cleavage. The half Yineth’s blonde flowing hair fell around her shoulders and framed her beautiful face.

“Are you ready son?” Lord Varrintine asked, grabbing Vythe’s attention, “Are you awake yet, you seem a bit distracted.”

“What?” Vythe asked in surprise, “Yes, I am ready to leave. Are the horses saddled, although I have come close to the old mare Koorra I do not think she has another long journey in her. Perhaps one of the offspring from Zannas will be adequate, for sadly my steed Squall was lost. He has not returned here, has he father?”

Lord Varrintine shook his head with a bemused look on his face.

“We do not need horses,” Xanthia remarked with a smile, “Much of my magicks I can still use, I shall teleport us to Crydon.”

“No, I do not think that would be wise,” Vythe was quick to reply, not willing to meet with the demon in the Void again.

“It will be fine,” Xanthia waved away his concern.

“I think a journey by horse would be better,” Lord Varrintine agreed with Vythe, knowing well the problem with the demon.

“Nonsense,” Xanthia smiled away their concern and began to cast.

“Wait, no!” Vythe cried out but it was too late the gates had already been opened.

The world in front of Vythe’s eyes blurred and distorted before it shattered like glass and a bright light blinded him followed by black spots in front of his vision. He felt himself being tossed about and it felt as if unseen forces were ripping his arms and legs off. Distorted images of places and towns flew past him and his head throbbed painfully. His gut twisted and Vythe thought he would vomit as he was continuously being tossed about in an unseen torrent. Such pressure was forced upon his head and joints, and the black dots in front of his eye felt as if they were hitting him. Vythe cried out in pain but there was no sound and finally he fell into unconsciousness.

***********************************************

“Perhaps you all should give me a permanent placement,” Kil’dar laughed aloud as he arrived late to the meeting of the High Commission. “I have come to enough of your little get togethers to warrant one.”  

In a dimly lit room around a beautiful marble table carved in the likeness of their continent Essinendeür sat the members of the High Commission. The High Commission was an independent body from the Kings of the six realms and formed by the Regional Commanders of the kingdoms plus the chairman, Edin Starak.

“Permanent placement?” Commander Delfin Redaux of Sesserrech balked, “After the events on the Morrow Plains two years ago you are lucky to be even breathing.”

“My people do not tell me everything,” Kil’dar shrugged as he sat down at the table, “I am merely an ambassador.”

Commander Winton De’lanner of Norrendōrel snickered at that, “For a man who claims he deals in knowledge, I find that hard to believe.”

Kil’dar scratched the back of his head, “I see Baelor is still absent.” He motioned to the empty seat where the Regional Commander of Cientrasis would have usually sat. “And still no replacement for the late Ka’rer Tallen of I’ender.”

“Ka’rer has been dead for nearly two years, I would hardly call that late,” Commander Lethain Rook of Krnōrel scoffed, and she pulled an absent strand of hair away from her face behind her delicately pointed ears.

Kil’dar smiled knowingly at the remark and looked around the room, much had changed in the past two years. Starak was looking much older, Winton had put on weight, lines of worry had marked Delfin’s young face, and the half-elf Lethain had become more beautiful, if that was possible. The only one of the Commanders that seemed unchanged was the young Luiden De’Vaan of Gaianaus. The young man still looked around the room in silent admiration and said very little unless he was asked a direct question.

After the failure of the High Commission’s plans of causing King Lienthor and Lord Cardonian to kill each other and force the common folk to look to the High Commission for guidance, each of the members of the Commission had virtually gone into reclusion to deal with the matters of their own regions. This meeting was only the second one to take place after the treaty on the Morrow Plains.

Starak coughed loudly and painfully, grabbing Kil’dar’s attention.

“Since this is only our second meeting in so long, perhaps we should start by updating each other on the events that are transpiring in each region,” Starak said slowly and with effort. “Commander Winton would you care to start?”

“I would be delighted, and thank you,” Winton smiled slyly, “The finding of new veins of pink silver have created much animosity among the rich of Sparren. Disputes over mines and land have taken a bloody turn I am sorry to say, and the rebuilding of the Antōre Sect has been very slow.”

“You seem to have profited well,” Delfin remarked suspiciously.

“I have backed the right noble during the disputes,” Winton shrugged innocently, “Which resulted in a favourable turn for myself.”

“We can see that,” Rook said dryly, “You must have doubled your weight since our last meeting.”

Winton grumbled something and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“What of Krnōrel, Rook?” Starak asked tiredly.

The half elf shrugged, “Not much different, the queen is almost due to give birth, King Lienthor is still loved by the people. The only real change has been the treatment of the Elder Races that live in Crydon and the other towns, since the massacre in Flottsome discrimination has increased and there are reports daily of merchants being attacked on the roads. Although Krnōrel’s biggest concern is in fact what had recently happened in Alabast. King Lienthor fears that I’ender will accuse him for the murder of King Arendt and the destruction of the royal castle.”

“Such a tragedy,” Winton sighed and shook his head, “Was it one of us that thought up that?”

“Certainly wasn’t me,” Delfin shook his head, “Though I wish I could take the credit.”

Rook also shook her head and Liuden stared absently at the carvings of the table. Kil’dar hid his smile as he looked from one vacant expression to the next.

“Probably one of the Lords of I’ender,” Kil’dar remarked, “I would place my bet on Lord Haron, he has been eyeing off a royal rulership for some time. And now with Arendt dead he will no doubt push his popularity with the people and become the new King.”  

 “A new Regional Commander for I’ender will help with gathering further knowledge,” Winton said softly.

“We shall come to that,” Starak coughed, “Commander Delfin, what of Port Na’brath and Sesserrech?”

“Well,” Delfin said loudly leaning forward in his chair, “Rivalry between Cardonian and Varrintine escalates daily, but noble blood is yet to be spilt. Cardonian buys off as many people as he can and increases taxes to buy off more. Varrintine on the other hand tries to go about it nobly and with honour, so he will no doubt soon fall. The Thieves Guild continue to plague the rich and I think there is something odd going on with that Guild, and I believe it is somehow linked with Varrintine but I am yet to find evidence of that. The Magi Guild is virtually empty with only a few students and even fewer Magi. The latest talk among the nobles is the new University opening in Aierthian called Collumburt, and many have already enrolled their children, not to mention the Magi who can no longer cast have also looked towards the new University.”

“What else,” Delfin mumbled before suddenly remembering something, “The Baron of Issia has positioned his army upon the northern borders to exert pressure upon Lord Cardonian to repay him for breaking the Treaty of Neutrality those two years ago. Cardonian is not going to pay any time soon, so Baron Ellengar will likely try and invade. Word is that he has already taken control of Midway. And about Midway it was decimated by some magicks or other, but they are rebuilding quickly and asking for support from Port Na’brath and Issia. And that’s about it.”

Starak nodded and turned to Luiden, “Young Commander De’Vaan, it is your turn to report.”

Luiden quickly sat up, his back straight and returned Staraks nod before beginning like he was making a presentation to a commanding officer.

“Commanders, the following is my report on the events in Gaianaus,” Luiden began, drawing a sigh from Delfin. “As Commander Delfin said the Baron has taken control of Midway as he continues to get his amount due from Lord Cardonian. I have heard that both the Baron and all of the other northern Lords are impatient and will likely execute a full invasion soon. Aside from that many of the prisoners that escaped when the Gaia Mountains Penitentiary disappeared have been tracked down and are being transferred to Chilldeep Prison in The Scar of Gornl. Also I would like to make it noted that the warriors from Nevārance have taken rule of Lancer and have been transporting parts of their broken ships to there.”

Everyone turned a curious eye towards Kil’dar when Luiden finished his report.

“What are your people planning now?” Delfin asked Kil’dar suspiciously.

Kil’dar looked back in surprise, “Like I said before: I am just an ambassador. But having said that, I have been doing a few things that will aid this Commission’s desire to have sole rule over the Kingdoms.”

“Like what?” Winton asked curiously.

Kil’dar smiled back, “All in good time my friend.”

“Why would you aid this Commission?” Rook asked.

“For a permanent placement of course,” Kil’dar replied slyly, “And I see two vacant seats at this table.”

The Regional Commanders all exchanged suspicious glances, though none of them spoke up.

“I see no harm in it,” Liuden finally broke the silence, drawing a surprised look from everyone in the room.

“You have a seat in mind?” Chairmen Starak asked slowly.

“I would not presume to choose,” Kil’dar was quick to reply, “But, I do not think you shall find any of the Zirarien from Cientrasis too quick to join this table, and that chair next to the beautiful Commander Rook looks very inviting.”

The half-elf smiled widely at Kil’dar’s response, but Delfin and Winton openly scoffed.

“But you are not even from Cientrasis,” Delfin objected, “You are not even from Essinendeür. I think it inappropriate if you were to become a member of this Commission.”

“As do I,” Winton softly added, and gave Kil’dar an apologetic smile.

“A vote perhaps?” Rook suggested.

“Indeed,” Starak smiled to the Commander from Krnōrel, “We shall have a vote.  Those in favour of appointing Kil’dar of Nevārance as the Regional Commander of Cientrasis, raise your hand.”

Liuden raised his along with Rook and a shaking hand from Starak.

“Three against two, the vote passes,” Starak announced, “Welcome to the High Commission Kil’dar.”

“Sure, that was fair,” Delfin grumbled, but he did not dispute it further.

Kil’dar jumped up from his temporary chair and with a wide smile moved over to the seat that represented the Regional Commander from Cientrasis, alongside Rook’s position.

“You spoke of aiding this Commission, Commander Kil’dar,” Winton asked stiffly.

“Of course,” Kil’dar beamed back, “King Arendt’s death was caused by myself. I convinced Lord Haron that Arendt needed to die to ensure the survival of I’ender. He had someone hire the assassins, and the rest, as you people say, is history.”

Surprised looks came from each of the Regional Commanders.

“Were they the same assassin’s that we had kill the Grand Magi?” Delfin asked curiously.

Kil’dar shrugged, “How should I know? Could have been any old assassin, once Lord Haron was convinced I moved on to my next objective.”

“Which is?” asked Winton.

“I shall let you know when it succeeds,” Kil’dar smiled back.

“You are now a member of this Commission Kil’dar,” Chairman Starak reminded, “So you are obligated to speak of your designs.”

“And everyone here tells the truth I assume,” Kil’dar was quick to reply, causing tension to fill the room. “All I will say is that things are about to change dramatically in Port Na’brath.”

“I will have you remember that Port Na’brath and Sesserrech are my concern,” Delfin said angrily, “Not yours.”

“Yes, of course,” Kil’dar dismissed the man, “But the main point of it all is to create mass in fighting and civil war, thus forcing the people to look for a higher power to create peace, and this High Commission will be that higher power.” 

 

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