Carises and Walden hugged as they laughed at their reunion, in a very classic display that his father was in fact an old man, he and his old friend regaled Marizhel on their old escapades. How old of a friend was Carises? Marizhel wasn’t sure if he’d ever actually met the man. According to his father he had met him on several occasions, though it was quite a long time ago, Marizhel could only vaguely remember that far back in his youth in between his studies and training. Walden and Carises spoke for hours about their pasts, small flaps of his wings for emphasis, sound effects at the right moments and his father pretending to speak as other people but using the same two ‘high and low’ voices for all of them. Marizhel sat with rapt attention as the two men reminisced about events he had never seen, battles he hadn’t even been born to witness and people he had never met and in many cases could never meet. Marizhel drank all the information in and knew that most of it was simply his father expressing, in his own way, just how happy he was to see an old friend. Zaerthold had long been asleep but it was nice to share this experience with him.
Thinking about the child drew his gaze upon the sleeping infant. His son, his boy, a precious ball of life he and Ryka had created together. What would his tales be to Zaerthold when he was old enough? Would his tales and exploits be as amazing as his fathers, or his friends as long lasting? He has tales and friends but Walden and his friends were in wars long over when times were considerably more tumultuous, it may perhaps be better to live in uninteresting times but Kaul’s Forge does it make for boring story time.
“Are we boring you, young Marizhel?” Carises asked “I’ve noticed your eyes have been on the infant for some time now. I hope we aren’t prattling, I know your father does that quite a lot.”
“Hey!” Walden spat out in indignation.
“Hm? Oh no, I was listening. Just thinking about my son and our stories together is all. I wonder if me and Ryka can tell such stories to Zaerthold as he grows older, I wonder if he will have stories as wondrous as yours or mine.” Mari said as he played with Zaerthold’s hand. “Oh his name is Zaerthold by the way. Apologies, I have not introduced him to you.”
This prompted a small chuckle from Cari which finally drew Mari’s gaze back to the older men. “Well then, it is nice to become acquainted with you young Zaerthold.” Carises said as he poked the small baby in his hand which was currently gripped around Marizhel’s finger. “May this auspicious meeting between the two of us be looked back at fondly in the years to come.”
Walden chuckled at the grandiose statement. “Well with the introduction to my precious grandson thoroughly completed, I must ask Cari, how did you know I was here?” He held up his hands in defense with his next statement. “Don’t misunderstand me friend, I am grateful to see you again after so long but I do wonder how you figured I was here, what with your duties at the temples and forges.”
“Well I am here because I was told you were here.” Carises stated plainly. “So I figured I hadn’t seen you in forever and just decided to give an old comrade in arms a visit. Say hello, admire the countryside, that sort of thing. It is certainly a beautiful village that–”
“Who was it?” Walden asked with a cold tone. This drew a worried glance from Mari but only a smile from Carises.
“It was Castilek.” Cari said with a chuckle. This drew an exasperated groan from Walden who glared at Marizhel. This in turn drew a confused look from Mari. “He has been busier since the colonizations have been underway and both the increased need for dedicated Protectors and Healers have pushed for something of a full blown campaign of education. The Grand College in Alhof has been encouraging youngsters like mad to study what needs to be studied for the betterment of Yar?l, and the Aureal Warrior League has been pushing for more of the old glory soldiers like you to become trainers as I’m sure you are well aware of. Personally I think it’s about time for the college to be promoted like this, but I have to say, I’ve been called into more consecration ceremonies for new warriors and healers in the last year than in the last ten! Not since the war against the Hork-Tooth have I seen this many consecrations! Frankly It would be infuriating if I wasn’t so happy about the new things the youngsters are thinking of, or many of the new things the old warriors are teaching at the League campuses.”
“You were in Alhof?” Walden scoffed “There is no way that you willingly stepped foot inside of a city, especially the capital! Where is that small village Fire Bearer I met in Zauburg all those years ago?”
“He stands before you far older than what he would have bet his schoolhouse fellows.” Cari said
“We’ve only been gone from Alhof for two years to train Cedrik, how much could the city have changed since then?” Marizhel wondered aloud.
“The city is far more vibrant now lad.” Carises stated happily. “Though the full effects of this surge of prosperity from the outer colonies and the college rush, as Castilek has so elegantly put it, won’t be known until a few more years from now, it could take a decade even.” He sounded enthused at the news which Walden reluctantly shared with a nod. Carises then looked annoyed. “Now hush, my tale is not done.” He said, regaining his place in the story. “Now where was I?”
“Castilek.” Walden grumbled
“Ah yes… the tale weaving recommences.” Carises said with a hand flourish. “The healer that is to be assigned to Rickten is a woman who is quite skilled at her craft! They knew of my skills as a healer and sought me out, sending requests to no less than seven different villages I could have stopped in. Can you believe it?” He asked smugly. “They asked for someone to find one Fire Bearer out of all the Bearers in Yar?l! The absolute hilarity of being a guard and trying to pick me out of a line of clergy would be absolutely hilarious.” Walden and Marizhel gave each other knowing looks before glancing at Cari’s gilded robes, forest of tattoos and rippling physique then decided that saying nothing would be the best course of action. Cari was not paying attention as he was in the middle of slapping his knee at the very idea he could stick out in a crowd. “Hilarity aside. I was found and given a teaching position after some negotiation. The woman I taught was Miss Jura Hatchel of the line Byrok. Haven’t met a Byrok in quite a while so it was quite nice, seems they only keep to cities. Excellent talent for healing, if I may say, very intuitive, excellent retention of the information I taught her, and she made solutions to problems that I gave no assistance with. She is a natural healer! Sadly she does romanticize living in the colonies though, a classic cityfolk failing.”
“What other failings do cityfolk possess Cari?” Walden, resident cityfolk, asked displeased.
“Oh plenty. You for one are incredibly inflexible and rude.” Cari responded in an instant. The two stared at each other for a moment before laughing at the absurdity.
“Wait, so how does Master Castilek fit into this?” Mari asked
“Well you see, Castilek and Ryka have been friends for a long time, my son.” Walden said. “Best friends until The Grand College separated them for a few years. But they started writing to each other. In one of those letters she wrote she probably talked about Rickten and then instead of understanding that not every random robe wearing vagabond should know Rickten’s defenders are not completely finished with their training, he instead blabbed about it to people he should not be blabbing to because he is a terrible gossip. Oh, no offense, old friend.” He motioned to Carises.
“I am not offended, you called Castilek a gossip, not me.” Cari respond with confusion.
“No that’s not…” Walden instantly dropped his clarification and continued. “Anyway, I must talk to that man when I return. His court politicking won’t save him from me chewing him out for this. I’ll give him a better shout than Ryka did with nephew.” He nudged Mari and chuckled.
“How is Cedrik doing? I know young Marizhel is training him but my student is coming here so I’d like to know if he can protect her as she protects him.” Carises said
Marizhel grimaced “He is… well is of sturdy build and excellent technique with the sword, he is a fast learner of Physik and has excelled at his preferred styles, I dare say he can be quite mighty when he wants to be.”
“But…?” Cari offered.
“But he is foolish.” Mari said with a sigh “His physical abilities are nothing to scoff at. While I personally may easily defeat him in combat, that is to be expected, he does not see it as the mental training it should be. A stronger foe must be countered with wit and ingenuity, not endless bouts of strength. If one is stronger, you cannot simply will yourself to be stronger within the fight. He takes the life out here as not serious while taking his position seriously. He is the son of a city noble and a Zearling at that so he believes himself indomitable and the countryside his to tame, by right, with our civilization when that is not only not the case but a foolish worldview to expect. At this stage, I do not need to mold a mighty warrior, I need to mold a man who understands the dangers of this place and his place within it. I know it’s what is hampering his consolidation efforts.” Mari exhaled with relief and sadness. “I try and he simply does not listen, only banter and grief.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“From what you explained he looked as if he considered your words today.” Walden interjected. “Perhaps you are finally getting to him.”
“I want to believe that.” Mari said. “But me saying things can only go so far, he is a man that will only respond to things when he has experienced them himself I am afraid. That is how he fights so well, he experiences them, worldviews cannot be experienced unless they are challenged or shattered, I seek to challenge so that a beast does not shatter.” Mari said as he sulked into his chair, Zaerthold made a small noise. “Yes, little one, Uncle Cedrik is a silly man isn’t he?”
“It hampers his consolidation does it?” Cari asked. “Do you truly think his soul is affected by his mind? I haven’t heard of anything like that before.”
“Not so directly.” Mari said, shaking his head “I think his mind is preventing him from doing things that would be necessary to strengthen his soul. He needs a wake up call, or else he will never reach any kind of Ascension Tier.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead “I would do what my old instructor called a ‘controlled wake up call’ with a monster hunt, but I haven’t gotten any reports of numerous enough monsters or even beasts to pose a significant threat as of late…”
“Monster numbers are down?” Carises asked
“Yes, they’ve been sparse over the last month.” Walden answered “I’d say it’s good fortune due to the imminent birth of Zaerthold, Kaul knows that peace is best for childbirth, but I am no fool and suspect that something is going on. Probably just the Bogloggers over hunting again.”
“Why would they be over hunting?” Carises idly asked as he stroked his chin. “That doesn't seem like Boglogger behavior to me… Could something have changed?”
“They’ve been over fishing as well recently.” Walden explained. “At least one of those beasts is close enough to Ascension that they need to make ready for it. My guess is one of them isn’t a complete half wit and has consolidated its soul after increased monster hunts. That would make sense, soul consolidation is easier at that stage since they aren’t true sapients, just kind of.” This explanation satisfied Carises but drew a look of confusion from Marizhel.
“What do you mean? I wasn’t aware pure brutality could allow for soul consolidation.” Marizhel asked.
“It can’t if you are an ascended race like humans. Bogloggers are not like humans, they have thoughts and can make decisions but they are still reliant on base instincts to guide them. True intelligence would allow them to see their instincts that would demand they kill a weaker thing to take its things and realize ‘Oh, that thing has a magical focusing tool and will kill me if I try anything.’ Bogloggers are not smart enough to do that, they can organize and recognize threats but complex pattern recognition and intuition of a solution to problems is very hard for them. Hence why they are not a true ascendant race until they become Orcs or some other variation. Depends on the Gods they worship I think. Cari?” Walden asked.
“That is all correct, yes.” Carises nodded with approval. “I’m surprised you remembered anything from our Advanced Magio-Biology lectures. You were always asleep during those.” He chuckled with a smug grin.
“Eat it.” Walden retorted while making an obscene hand gesture. “My father is big into that stuff and had loads of books on the topics that I skimmed through as a child… and is that the way you talk to the guy who saved your ass at The Crunch Pit?”
Cari recoiled at the mere mention. “Forge, I haven’t thought of The Crunch Pit in almost thirty years. I hate trolls… and their foul ogre servants.” He shivered as he spoke the words
Walden dryly chuckled at the memory. “Now The Crunch Pit would be the kick in the ass Cedrik would need to not be a little pampered boy any longer.” He leaned back in his chair. “Even just the arena would do it I think, not even taking on Bone-Hork, but that would certainly put some hair on his chest…”
“Then, with that memory sparking an idea, I have a perfect solution for our controlled wake up call problem.” Carises said with a clap of his hands, disturbing Zaerthold who voiced displeasure at the startling noise. “Oh my apologies.” He leaned over and patted Zaerthold’s head, his hand emanated a small blue glow and Zaerthold calmed, Marizhel nodded in thanks “Now then, as I was saying. I have a wonderful idea.”
“Let’s hear it.” Said Walden with anticipation.
Carises’s face split with a wide grin. “If the boy needs a wakeup call and a good kick in his rear while he’s at it. You don’t need devilish monsters or horrific fiends, and especially no fucking trolls.” He spat the last two words with anger and venom. “All you need…” He raised a fist and paused dramatically. “... is a good old fashion tourney.” Cari looked back and saw both men sporting the same wide grin as him. “With all the magiers in the village and myself here as well the preparations should only take two weeks.”
“Splendid!.” Walden said. “I will speak with the local carpenter and stonemason guilds to see what constructs they can spare. Cari, you meet up with the local flame bearers and magiers to see what additions they can make to the constructs. Mari, you train and prepare Cedrik for a…” He stroked his chin, then nodded, pleased with himself. “Let’s make it a week long tourney, if that boy doesn't get his ass into gear, he’ll get the shit kicked out of him by scarecrows.” With the plans set, the three men set into laughter, more stories and no shortage of anticipation.
***
Hugu was a loyal Boglogger, he was loyal to his chief and his clan, now his loyalty was repaid with hatred and slavery. Once Ogog was a mighty chief who went out on a trek to find the secrets of the world and came back smarter and stronger, he had true soul strength, he taught them his new ways, called the old ways backwards and promised a life as an Orc in the future. Hugu would kill any man Ogog demanded for a chance for his family to be Orcs, proper creatures with a true soul and not a partial soul, but Ogog did not demand the death of his fellows. Hugu watched as the true traitor Nuuf strode into the village with Ogog’s head, Hugu was the first to charge him and call for his fellows to kill the fool, only to be stopped by some force. A shadow hung over the village behind Nuuf and made him cackle in glee as he gave some inane speech to all those who hated Ogog’s innovations. Hugu lived through the initial battle but many died, to the shadow, their deaths only making it stronger. In that moment Hugu knew all was lost as the village was silenced and no others came to defend Ogog’s honor. So many Bogloggers that demanded a return to the old ways came to Nuuf and asked for positions, Hugu couldn’t believe how many that had prospered under Ogog simply discarded him as it proved more useful to do so, even his own son Gub knelt at the feet of the traitor. Hugu could do nothing as Ogog’s mate and children were taken and beaten to death by these new slaves of Nuuf and the shadow, their screams echoing in his mind even now, the cackling of those who slaughtered them echoing as much as the screams.
His son cackled in that moment as he killed Ogog’s youngest, as soon as they had died, Nuuf commanded the families of those who attacked to be killed. Gub demanded he not die for he was one of the first to declare his loyalty to Nuuf. Nuuf agreed and he said he would live, in return he was given the task to kill both of Hugu’s mates and all of his siblings. Hugu wondered if pinkies would do something like that, he wondered how close he was to being an Orc, he wondered why it had to be him that suffered, ultimately he did not care anymore. After what happened he could not think clearly anymore, he was too saddened and so allowed himself to simply not be there as the horror happened.
“KEEP WALKIN’ YOU LOUTS!” The slavedriver bellowed out as he swung a stick to crack into Hugu’s back. He didn’t even flinch. “YOUZ IZ AL’MOST CLOSE TO YA FREEDOM!” Hugu knew that was a lie, he and a small group of rag dressed bogloggers were being driven down the river to the pinkie clan. He and the group had already accepted their fates. “COME ON YOU! MAKE A NOIZE WHEN I’Z THRASH YA!!” The driver yelled as he struck Hugu again and again. Hugu made no noises, they didn’t change anything: no noise, a thrashing, make a noise, the slave driver laughed and continued his thrashing. Finally Hugu saw the village, a pinkie yelled something and the slavedriver pulled out orange things from his bag. “RIGHT THEN! EAT EM AND KILL THE PINKIES!!!” He pointed at the town. The slaves did as they were instructed. Eating the orange things drove them mad and they charged. Hugu only watched them go and caught the attention of the slave driver. “OI YOU!! EAT YA FILL AND KILL EM!” Hugu turned and shoved the Orange thing in the drivers mouth and watched as he bit down on his hand to prevent the action, foolishly swallowing both. He retched and tried to pull both from his throat but became enraged and began screaming and tearing away at his clothes in madness.
Hugu pointed his stump at the village. “Go get ‘em.” He said and the slavedriver bolted, dropping his weapons on the shore. Hugu picked up the sword, the only real weapon that the slavedriver discarded in his madness and walked toward the village, the battle already underway. Most of his comrades already slain, he walked toward a jumpy pinkie who was covered with shimmering metal scales and holding a sword that was far more beautiful than any metal tool his clan had ever made.
“Another one!” He called out before raising his shield. “Why do you attack, greenskin! We’ve no quarrel with you! Answer me!”
Hugu simply looked at him, looked to his stump and raised his sword. “Clan is dead.” He said dejectedly “Family is dead. I am dead. Kill me.” This perplexed the pinkie but then Hugu rushed forward and swung the sword with all his might. It was parried easily and a single thrust from the pinkie tore through the rags he wore and punctured his heart. As Hugu died, he was relieved he had at least achieved a death against such a powerful foe and was happy that death wasn’t as painful as he had imagined.
“Fuck…” Karl said wearily as the one handed greenskin died.
“What happened?” One of Karl’s comrades asked after beheading a shirtless greenskin.
“This boglogger said his clan was dead, asked me to kill him.” Karl said with some confusion. “I thought the bogloggers were killing the beasts. You think they killed them all?”
“No idea.” His comrade said. “I’ll inform the Captain about this, I’ll be back in a few to help clean up the greenskins.” He walked off toward the mustering house
“Well, guess we should clean up this mess.” Karl said with a sigh and joined the other town guards as they began to pile the bodies and gather wood for a pyre.
