Chapter II:
The Knight
“Despite the ruckus, there is in fact only one enemy in the tower, sir. But he’s good. He managed to kill several of our Union friends and two of our musketmen,” a soldier said.
“I could care less about our, what do they call them? ‘The Helpful Union Guys’, thugs. But this operation was supposed to be a quick ransom. If they’re attacking us, it’s not good,” The leader said, shaking his head.
“Our involvement cannot be known, my lord. We should kill the hostages, and flee for the Empire,” a more senior soldier said.
“I don’t murder children,” the leader hissed, jabbing his thumb at the three squirming rope-bound bundles at the far end of the tower. “But you’re right. If Sesalia finds out our involvement, the pretender Empire will no doubt reinforce Sesalia.”
“Then we should flee. Leave the brats here and return to the Empire. I know you’ve invested quite a deal in this operation m’lord, but no doubt we’ll be compensated. We should send the rest of our thugs to their grave by throwing them at the Sesalians and make our own escape. That will cut our losses.”
“We’re not thugs. We’re the helpful union guys!” The leader of the thugs butt in. “Stop calling us thugs! Thugs are barbarians, uncivilized, uncouth! We are from the Union of Civilized Tribes, Clans and Peoples!”
“Then make yourself helpful, and get your civilized helpers and stop the Sesalians, and by extension, the fake Imperials from reaching this base!” The lord shouted.
“You heard him!” The Thug leader shouted. “Go! Fight! Bleed! And tonight, we will sup upon the flesh of the hated Imperial dogs!”
“That’s a relief,” the soldier said once the last of the dozen or so thugs still on the tower summit had disappeared into the depths of the ruin. “I don’t know why we utilize such filth anyways. At least we can breathe again.”
“The Union is a catspaw, nothing more. Our alliance with them is merely to ensure a wall of corpses between our men and the pretender Empire when the Great War comes. But yes, it is nice to breathe again,” the lord took a long, deep breath. For all the harping on how civilized they were, the humans in the Union of Civilized Tribes, Clans and Peoples were in fact, quite uncivilized. Having never bathed before, the stench had been overwhelming. The pretender Empire had the right of it when it classified them as “uncivilized”.
“Breathing is the least of your worries!” A voice shouted from behind them. This was quickly followed by an agonized scream.
Whirling around, the lord saw a young woman standing over the body of one of his men he had tasked to guard the hostages, a bloodied short sword in her hand. She drew a pistol and gunned down the other hostage guard before pointing it at the rest.
“You *****!” The soldier shouted as he leveled his musket.
The girl was faster though, and shot the man dead without a second thought.
“Run, my lord! I will die for your escape!” The senior soldier drew his pistol and shot the girl. The shot only grazed her left arm, but it gave him time to close into melee distance. “I’ll throw you over the edge of this tower, girl! ALIVE!”
“My lord!” A badly wounded soldier hollered limping up from the depths of the tower. “That enemy down there, he is slaughtering us! Despite wounds most grievous he has managed to slay most of us! Our Union allies are all slain and the remaining Regulars are selling their lives for your escape!”
Everything was coming apart. Three brats would have fetched a high ransom and good money for the coffers of the Empire. And yet two children had thrown that all into the pits of the hells. New Gods be merciful! How could two children slaughter seasoned Regulars?
“Please my lord! You must—” A strange whirling sound from above cut the wounded man off. Looking up they saw a Confederate air vessel swooping in. The bay door on the underbelly was opened.
“RUN, MY LORD!” The soldier pleaded. But it was too late. Pretenders were already dropping onto the roof of the tower. “NO! YOU WILL NOT TOUCH MY LORD!” The wounded soldier drew his steel and rushed the newcomers. He only took a couple of steps before being gunned down. They wore what amounted to standard Confederate combat gear but instead wore blue cloaks instead of red.
An Imperial Knight. To think that such a resource would be mobilized in such a short time. Either that, or the spies had dropped the ball and wasn’t aware that a Knight was now stationed in Sesalia. Either way, the lord knew that he must run.
The lord turned to run and for the ladder. Despite the threat approaching from the bottom, he knew there were secret exits. As long as the threat wasn’t so high in the tower, he could make it.
He never did. Someone struck him in the back of the head and he blacked out. Who did they think they were? To strike a noble lord? Filthy pretenders.
**************
Twelve years. Twelve years had passed since Vincent Hector, now known as Ser Vincent Hector of Highvale had left Highvale province in Sesalia for the Imperial City. Back then he was known as Ward Vincent Hector. Twelve years was too long of a time, and now, he was back but only on a secret mission, and thus could not make the social calls he wanted to make.
Now was not the time to be thinking about brews with friends, however. Drawing his blade he leapt from the bay of his airship and charged the fighting figures. A sharp yelp from the non-uniformed figure hastened his charge. The False Imperial was pulling a sword out of his enemy’s chest.
“Imperius Hja!” Vincent yelled
“Damnation! Die, pretender!” The man yelled.
“I would have your name, before I slay you, warrior!” Vincent shouted. The scarred warrior was a worthy foe, and Vincent wished to know who he was about to end.
“I am Andre Borleingeif, sworn Shield and Sword of Lord Joffrey Naribles!” The man shouted.
“Know then, Andre Borleingeif, sworn Shield and Sword of Lord Joffrey Naribles that it was Ser Vincent Hector of Highvale that sent you to your death!” With a wide-sweeping swing, he tore through the man’s armor and into his chest cavity. His foe slid off Vincent’s blade and collapsed onto the ground.
“Secure the rest of the tower. Ensure no man, woman or child escapes. Bring anyone still alive here immediately. None are above suspicion!” Vincent shouted. His men nodded and obeyed. One of his men also took charge of the wounded third party as well.
“What of the injured, Ser?” The man said, indicating the bleeding young woman.
“You’re a good lad, Nathan, but what do you think? Leave them to bleed out? The battle is over. We have won. Friend or foe, we shall tend to their injuries as if they were our own kin. How we treat even our enemies tells us who we are,” Vincent explained as he made is way towards three oddly squirming rope bundles next to some crates. Upon closer inspection, the bundles were in fact children. Just very, very, tightly and excessively bond. “Now what are you three doing here?”
Vincent sheathed his sword and drew his knife and cut the bonds of the nearest child and removed his face gag.
“Hey! Do you have any idea who I am! No! You don’t! You better let me go! If you don’t, someone’s gonna hurt you real bad! Do you know who I am? I’m Pierce! Pierce David Reagan! REAGAN you poopyhead! ARE EEE EH GEE EH EN! REAGAN! My uncle is the Emperor and when he finds out that you’ve been this mean to me and my friends he’s gonna kick your butt upside down! So you—” The lad stopped his ranting when he noticed the sigils of Knighthood on Vincent’s turtleneck collar.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Vincent knelt before the Crown Prince. “I was not aware of your predicament.”
As if forgetting his age, and previous rage, the Crown Prince replied, “Your apology is accepted Ser Knight, but how come you didn’t know? Aren’t you here because of my daddy, err father and uncle?”
“No Your Grace,” Vincent said as he went to cut the bonds of Pierce’s friends.
“Hm. Nevertheless your rescue is most uh-pree-she-eh-titided.”
“Your words honor me, Your Grace, but I don’t believe I am responsible.”
“Then who?”
Vincent looked over at the third party. She had jet black hair and was looking extremely uncomfortable at Squire Nathan’s attempts to patch her up. “I don’t know Your Grace. Please remain here.”
Vincent walked over towards his Squire and his Squire’s patient. He blinked at her.
“Clare?” He asked.
Nathan stopped his treatment and the girl looked up at him with blue eyes. No wrong eyes.
“Are you Thaddeus’s child?” He asked again. “Roberta?”
“Robin,” she corrected. “And yes I am. Clare, my mother, died about seven years ago.”
“I am grieved to hear that,” Vincent offered up a silent prayer to the Old Gods. “Tell me, how fares your father?”
“Who are you?”
“Vincent Hector,” Vincent replied. “Or, more appropriately, Ser Vincent Hector of Highvale. I knew your father for many years.”
Robin looked deep in thought, provided she wasn’t wincing in pain at Nathan’s “tender mercies”.
“You’ll have to forgive my Squire. A ‘gentle hand’ is something he hasn’t learned yet.”
“You and my dad joined the Militia together, but you left very soon after for the Imperial Knights.”
“Yes, yes I did. You remember me?”
“I remember a friend of Dad’s who left when I was young that could drink him under the table.”
“Yes, I was one of the few who could drink Thaddeus under the table. But why are you here?”
Robin pointed over at three children. “My brother and I were sent to bring them back. We weren’t expecting such resistance.”
“You have a brother now?”
“Adopted. Dad brought him home after one of his trips.”
“I’m sure there’s a story behind that one,” Vincent said while signaling to his hovering ship.
The Wings of Highvale, as Vincent called it, descended until the bay door ramp was only a couple of feet from the floor of the tower. Three figures emerged from the bay and jumped onto the tower. Once they had disembarked, the airship descended to the ground. Two of the figures were Vincent’s men. The third was one most strange.
Provisional Lieutenant Myree was, at first glance, no different than any other human. Dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Legions, one would mistake her for just another Legionnaire.
“She looks a little young for that uniform,” Robin said, standing up, being finally freed of Nathan’s non-existent bedside manner.
“I can’t speak on this subject,” Vincent said plainly, before walking towards the newcomers. “Lieutenant, we have secured the tower, though I fear the enemy took heavy casualties as a result of a second operation taking place here that we were not informed of.”
“I understand,” Myree said.
“Will you be able to tell if the subject is one if it is dead?”
“I do not know, Knight-Captain. I have never encountered a deceased one before. This will be an, interesting, experience.”
“Please begin with these four,” Vincent indicated towards Robin, Pierce and his friends.
“The children will not be. They are too young,” Myree said before heading over to Robin who was now sitting on a crate, nursing her chest wound.
“What’s this?” Robin asked as Myree approached her. “Who are you?”
“She is not.” Myree said.
“Thank the gods,” Vincent said with a long exhale.
“You are, relieved, Knight-Captain,” Myree said.
“Not what? Wait, what in the hells is going on?” Robin asked impatiently.
“I’m sorry, Robin, but I can’t tell you,” Vincent answered. “And yes, Robin here is the daughter of an old friend, Lieutenant. After the latest briefing, I had cause to worry that she wasn’t who she said she was.”
“That was only hypothesis, Knight-Captain.” Myree said with the very slightest hint of a shrug. Vincent would have missed it if he didn’t know Myree as well as he did.
“True enough.”
Myree proceeded over towards the unconscious lord and quickly dismissed him as a target. As she was inspecting the corpses, a sharp yelp from Robin drew his attention away from the lieutenant. The Crown Prince was pulling on Robin’s left arm which was quite close to her stab wound.
“Please, not that arm, Pierce,” she groaned.
“Hey!” Nathan shouted. “You will address the Crown Prince as ‘Your Grace’!”
“Shutup, meanie! Robin’s my friend and she can call me whatever she wants. As long as it’s not mean.”
Vincent merely laughed. It was always amusing to see his Squire get kicked around. True, he was doing little more than imitating Vincent who was well known for his chivalry and respect, even to his inferiors. Still, calling him Your Grace might be a little excessive. The Emperor wasn’t likely to keel over dead unless he was assassinated.
“Up, filth!” Someone shouted.
“Let us go! We ain’t not with them! We swears it! We is the helpful Union guys! We was taken slaves by them! Let us go!” Someone protested.
“Union?” Vincent asked no one. He watched as his men brought a few ragged barbarians up from the depths of the tower. Ugh. Yes, they are Union. Doesn’t take a dog to recognize that odor.
“What is Union filth doing this far west?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “And where is the Crown Prince?!”
“Shut up back there!”
It seems that a fourth party had entered the scene. Vincent recognized the uniforms of the Highvale Militia.
“They were coming in as we were heading down, sir,” one of Vincent’s soldiers said to him.
“I doubt they’re our target, but nevertheless, protocol demands they be inspected.”
“Inspected?!” A man with sergeant’s insignia fumed. “Now wait just a minute here! What are Imperial Knights doing here? This was supposed to be a Militia operation! And what do you mean by inspected?”
“I assure you, Sergeant, that we are here on different agendas,” Vincent sighed. “Let’s get this over with. Lieutenant?”
“I will not take much time,” Myree said.
“There’s one more down at the bottom, sir. His injuries would make it impossible for him to climb the ladder. Kent is with him.”
“Thank you.”
“Sir?” Another of his men poked his head up through the trap door.
What now? “Yes?”
“Sir, we have more guests.”
A fifth party? “Who is it?”
“I think you had better come see for yourself.”
Great, I really needed a five-ring circus on a top secret Teknel assignment.
Vincent descended the ladder. He noticed Kent treating a young man no older than Robin. Noticing a Highvale Militia pin, he guessed it was Robin’s adopted brother. He was in bad shape.
“He needs some serious medical attention, sir,” Kent said. “Nothing on its own is life-threatening, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Do what you can, Sergeant,” he put a hand on Kent’s shoulder.
“I always do, sir,” Kent smiled.
“Now, let’s see who else is here,” Vincent walked over to the rail and looked over.
“I tried to stop them sir, your orders were specific, no one in, no one out, but I think I might have been overruled,” a soldier said.
Oh damn. Twelve years was a long time but he still recognized the Royal Insignia of the Sesalian Kingdom. Sure enough, with several dozen troops of the Royal Army, her personal bodyguards a grizzled old veteran in need of a beating, several local bureaucrats and at least one advisor was the Queen Governor Herself.
**************
It was impossible to miss the capital. The Great Emerald Tree towered above the rest of the forest and was visible for miles. Even once the top of the tree was visible, they still had a good half hour by airship before they the rest of the capital was visible.
“Wow,” Elvyane breathed.
“Imagine how this place would have looked a hundred years ago,” Allenio said.
The capital city of the Emerald Empire was a flawless and seamless mixture of the old and the new. The Great Emerald Tree of course dominated the city, but rising from the lake at the base of the tree were numerous interconnected towers, constructed with human ingenuity and elven sophistication. Yet even these did not reach the branches of the Tree. A number of bridges connected the spires to the spires and the spires to the Tree. And yet, despite the towering magnificence of the artificial structures, the old elven buildings on the numerous islands of the lake still stood, in the shadow of the structures was the Old City.
“I heard that to own a house in the Old Lake City is almost as much to own an apartment that overlooks the old city,” Allenio said.
NonSpecificGuy
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