The Journals of Valerian: An Exile's Tale

[cezar87]

Table Of Contents

Introduction​

Book I - Valerian the Exile

Chapter I - Landfall

Chapter II - A soldier's life
Chapter III - Close Calls
Chapter IV - The Lessons War Teaches
Chapter V - Into the wilderness
Chapter VI - The Caravaneer
Chapter VII - Waves of memory, Waves of sorrow:
Part I - The Flight
Part II - The Captain's tale
Part III - The Calm
Part IV - The Storm
Part V - A new life

Book II - A changed man

Chapter VIII - Homecoming​

---

Intoduction​

The history of Calradia is vast and diverse, stretching from the pre-Calradic kingdoms of Ancient times, to the birth of the First Empire, the chaos of the Dark Ages after its fall, the foundation of the Second Calradic Empire and its near-collapse the War of the Five Houses over two hundred years ago. Throughout this long history, many individuals have managed to leave their mark on history, such as King Arathes I, King of Suno and the first to declare himself Emperor, or his father, Sirthas IV who conquered many of the Western lands and subjugated the mountain tribes, paving the way for his son's ascension. There is also the tale of Cleftjaw Franken, the pirate-lord who terrorized the southern shores of the Empire for over a decade before finally being defeated by the legendary Admiral Cadmius, who would later also break the back of the first Northmen invasion. Or later, in the Dark Ages there is the tale of the general Grunwalder, a brilliant tactician who ended the dominance of the Swadian knights on the battlefield and who is considered to be the liberator of the Rhodoks. And the list could go on. Yet, despite this plethora of heroes and villains to choose from, there is one man who has managed to captivate our collective consciousness. That man is Valerian, the architect of the Second Empire.

The reasons for this fascination are numerous, but many stem from the complex nature of the man himself. After all, few people in our history are as famous for their battles as they are for their treatises. An exile from far-off Venira, he spent much of his early years embroiled in the wars that plagued Calradia in those times, managing to make a name for himself on the battlefield in a land already full of adventurers and mercenaries. As his status rose, he proved himself to be an able statesman and laid the foundations of the Second Empire. Even in his old age he did not rest of his laurels, instead returning to the scholarly pursuits of his youth, and wrote several books that influenced academic thought for many years after his death. A true polymath, his writings encompass many fields, having written treatises on economics, diplomacy, tactics and strategy, linguistics, philosophy, theology and the natural sciences. Of these I would like to mention two in particular that proved to be quite influential. The first is his book on fortification defense, a book that remained a cornerstone of tactical thought for over 150, becoming obsolete only with the development of cannons. The second is his treatise “On the Calradian language and its dialects”, a book that is still considered to be the seminal work of modern linguistics.

Yet, despite this enduring fascination, very little of what is known by people outside academic circles is based on historical fact. Most comes from folk tales, bardic songs, or more recently, “historical” novels and films. As a historian, I find this troubling and saddening, especially considering the unique window that we posses into the life of this great man. I am referring here to Valerian's Journals, written in his own hand and begun soon after his arrival in Calradia. This huge and unique collection documents, almost complete and brilliantly preserved at the Imperial Archives offer us an excellent view into the life of Valerian as well as the society of the Dark Ages in which he lived. The only drawback is that they were all written in his native Veniran, a complex language with an alien script that has so far discouraged any attempt at complete translation. Even now, so many years after they were written, we only have few excerpts translated that rarely find their way outside the walls of a University. So our purpose in writing this book is to correct this shortfall. By offering the world a complete translation of the Journals in modern Calradian we hope to offer a tool of immense value to all those that are interested in studying this fascinating era, whether they be academics or not and hopefully also dispel some of the myths that have grown around Valerian over the centuries.

(c) 1962, Yalen University Press

---

Hello and welcome to my first M&B AAR and I hope you liked the first update . More will soon come

A few details about the game itself:
- I'll be using the Freelancer 1.5 Mod for extra depth to the story
- I'll be starting at about 79% difficulty and moving it up once my character gains a few levels
- My screenshots will be horrible because my six year old laptop simply cannot handle the game at better graphics
- I will not be using the in-game calendar because it seems Calradia is the place where more happens in a month than in the real world in a decade . Instead marking time as seems to be reasonable to me.

I'll introduce the character himself in the next update, which will essentially be the first page of his journal.

I intend to post this at the TaleWolrds forums as well to get the broadest audience possible(link). Feedback of any kind is more than welcome since one of the purposes of this AAR is to improve my writing style .

 

[cezar87]

Book I - Valerian the Exile​

Chapter I: Landfall​

It has been almost a year since I arrived in Calradia, yet only now has the reality of my exile finally caught up with me. With all that has happened in my life in recent years I fear that soon I will go mad, so I have decided to start this journal in the hope that, by consigning my thoughts to paper, I will somehow manage to make sense of them. I guess I should begin with the events of the last couple of weeks, and how I arrived to this new and unexpected turn in my life.

About three weeks ago the ship that had brought me here, the Fair Wind, finally set sail for it's home port of Athiana, far away across the Ocean. I had spent the last nine months working as the ship's clerk and translator, as it sailed up and down the coast trading the goods brought from my homeland with the exotic goods of Calradia. My presence aboard the ship, while somewhat unwelcome at first, proved to be a boon for Captain Stavros. In only a few weeks I had a better grasp of the native tongue than the Captain himself and together we managed to make what the he claimed were some of the best deals in all of his seven journeys here.

For a time, surrounded as I was by men from the Twelve Cities, I still felt somewhat at home. But when we arrived in the port-town of Buvran, Captain Stavros took me aside and told me that this would be his last stop before heading back home. It was a moment I had been dreading since the voyage began, but I knew there was no chance of me ever returning to my homeland. At noon the next day I bid my farewells to the Captain and the crew, and watched from the quay as the ship slowly made it's way West, into the Great Ocean. I remained there for hours, my eyes transfixed on the horizon, my heart heavy and my mind numb. It was already close to sunset when I finally awoke from my stupor and began to make my way towards an inn.

Before debarking, the Captain had given me the last of my earnings in the local coin and told me to head to Jelkala, the capital of the Kingdom of Rhodoks. There, he said, a man with my talents could hope to find some employment. Acting on this advice, I bought myself a horse, some supplies and also tried to arm myself as best I could, knowing that law and order in Calradia left much to be desired.

I left early in the morning, heading east on the road that followed the course of the Selver river. The road itself paled in comparison to what I was used to back home, but was nonetheless well maintained by Calradian standards as it is the main route by which foreign goods reach Jelkala. I traveled alone for the first day and most of the second, meeting only a few merchant caravans heading to or from Buvran.

I spent my first night alone, by the side of the road with only a small campfire to keep me warm. I had spent nights in the wilderness before, with my father, but this was different. Back then I was just a child who knew nothing of the dangers of the world and with my father by my side to protect me from harm. Now I was on my own in a foreign land filled with hard people forged through great hardships. I tried to sleep to recover my strength, but after a night of tossing and turning I awoke more tired than before.

In the afternoon of the second day I met a group of peasants heading to Jelkala to sell their goods. As I approached to greet them they became tense, fearing I was some bandit scout looking for an easy target, but they relaxed visibly when they heard my foreign accent. I told them a little bit about where I came from and where I was going, they told me that my destination was only a day and a half away and we eventually decided to travel together. After spending the second night by the road once more, trading tales and drinking ale, we resumed our journey. Along the way we passed through many small villages, though to my eyes most were nothing more than a collection of hovels. When I mentioned this to my companions they felt somewhat offended, but revealed that these were in fact quite prosperous compared to the ones on the borders. There, invading armies frequently raided for food, water, women or just out of spite. Life was hard in Calradia, they said, and I had no reasons to doubt them.

We arrived in Jelkala around nightfall and soon parted ways. They would spend the night at one of the cheaper inns near the city gates, while I left towards the city's center, to a more expensive inn one of the farmers had told me about. I still had some money left over from the Fair Wind and I wanted to have at least one more comfortable night's sleep before the uncertainties of the next day. By the time I arrived it was already dark and I was exhausted. I rented a room, ate the last of my food and went to sleep. Yet rest still eluded me, my dreams torturing me throughout the night. I awoke around dawn in a pool of sweat and, with sleep impossible, I decided to clear my head in the cool morning air. I left the inn and walked around for a while on the deserted streets, lost in thought until a sound I had heard only once before chilled me to the bone: somewhere behind me, someone had drawn a blade.

I spun round quickly on my heel and drew the short sword I had purchased in Burvran in one fluid motion, taking up a defensive position. My attacker, already close, suddenly stopped, apparently surprised by my quick reaction. Taking advantage of his hesitation I lunged forward and batted his blade aside, leaving his torso exposed, then I drew my hand back a bit and stabbed with all my strength, driving the blade deep into his abdomen. His eyes went wide with shock as I withdrew my sword and his mouth filled with blood. He collapsed to his knees, struggled to get up for a few more seconds before finally falling down face-first, a pool of his own blood forming around him. For a few moments I stood there, just staring at the corpse. This was the third attacker to die by my hand in the last two years, and I began to fear that he would not be the last. Suddenly, I heard a door open somewhere nearby, and feared that more of his accomplices were coming for me. But the man I saw peering out the door when I turned in the direction of the sound reminded me more of the many merchants I had met since arriving in Calradia than a bandit. I eyed the man warily as he began to approach, stopping a few meters away from me and I only relaxed when I could clearly see that he was unarmed. He looked curiously at the dead robber, then at me, then at the bloody blade in my hand and again at me. He asked me what the reason for all the commotion was and, suddenly afraid at what the authorities might say, I told him what had happened. He listened attentively, moving his gaze between me and the robber several times then, once I had finished recounting the events of the last few minutes, he spit in the direction of the corpse with obvious hate. He then told me that he was indeed one of the local merchants, that this was not the first attack of its kind and invited me to his home to speak more. Curious, I sheathed my blade and began to follow him.

The Mercheant​

Once inside he told me a bit more about what had been happening in Jelkala recently. Apparently, for the past couple of months, brigands that usually prayed on defenseless travelers on the roads had been getting into and out of the city unnoticed, robbing and murdering ordinary people in the night and kidnapping some of the more affluent citizens for ransom, his own brother among them. The Captain of the Watch seemed powerless to do anything about it, so he had decided not long ago to take matters into his own hands and had been looking for someone to take on the job of freeing his brother. Since I could clearly handle myself in a tight spot and I definitely wasn't in league with the bandits, he wanted to offer it to me.

Now, when I set off towards Jelkala doing mercenary work had not even been on my mind. In fact, my father had always wanted me to steer clear of that dangerous profession, and I had thus far agreed with him. But now that I had a concrete proposal in front of me I found myself intrigued, both by the coin offered and by the novelty of it all. For these reasons I agreed, and set off to hire more fighters for the task. Before leaving he told me that I should look outside of town. To him, it was clear that someone was helping the bandits and until he knew who could be trusted, it would be best to be discreet. He also told me that there were rumors of bandits assaulting travelers somewhere to the south of the city, and that they may be from the same group.

I returned to the inn where I was staying to get my horse and the rest of my equipment, I ate a quick breakfast, and left by the east gate in search of soldiers. There were several larger villages in that direction and I had little trouble with my task. After all, one of my duties aboard the Fair Wind, and on Captain Evanghelos' ship before that was the hiring help at the docks to load or unload cargo. Hiring soldiers proved to be little different, and the men of the village militias were easily attracted by the prospect of extra coin. When I finally had enough men to feel comfortable, we headed south in search of the bandits.

With some information from a small caravan and some travelers we were able to find them, hiding in a small clearing in the forest near the road. When we entered the clearing, they already had their weapons drawn, so there was no choice but to fight. I confess that had worried a little that my band of militiamen might not be up to the task, but my worries proved to be unfounded. After a short battle all the bandits were down and I interrogated the lone survivor. With my dagger at his throat he was quite cooperative, telling me that the bandit hideout was far to the South and East, in the Ibdalla Valley, as well as the location of a secret path that led to it. With these detailed directions in hand, we stopped off in Jelkala only briefly to buy some supplies and headed to our next destination, a five day journey away.

The Hideout​

We made good speed, but slowed our pace the closer we got to the hideout. We began making our way up to the camp during the afternoon, reaching it by nightfall. Once there, we hid, and began studying the surroundings, looking for the best moment to strike. Staying motionless for so long proved tiring for me, but my men, who also hunted from time to time, fared much better.

Our opportunity came just before dawn, when a light rain-shower began. With the sound of our movement obscured by the falling rain and the sentries more preoccupied with finding cover than looking for intruders we made our way down to the camp. I slit the throat of the first sentry before he ever realized what was happening and one of my companions took care of the second. We then began moving quietly from hut to hut, killing bandits in their sleep and had taken more than half of them out before one finally managed to wake up in time to give a frightened scream. This proved to be no problem however as the remaining bandits were too disorganized and groggy from sleep to put up much of a fight. After the battle was done we began looting the camp, and found the merchant’s brother tied up in one of the huts, as well as their hoard and a few pack mules. We loaded all we could onto the mules and left early in the morning back to Jelkala.

I must admit that without the help of one of my companions, a hunter named Bross, the whole mission might have been a disaster. It was only with his experience in the mountainous terrain that we managed to pull it off, and I often had to defer to his judgment.

Once back in the city, I went straight to the merchant’s home. He gave his brother a cold welcome, then sent him off to talk to me. I had expected this to be the end of it, but instead he offered me another job. While I had been away he had done some digging and found out that the bandit's accomplice in the city was none other than the Captain of the Watch. A year back, the Captain had lost a sizable amount of money when he sponsored a trade caravan that was robbed and had turned to banditry to recover his losses. Because he feared that an official investigation would give the Captain time to cover his tracks, the merchant had instead decided to apprehend him himself. In the two weeks I was gone he had recruited several townsfolk that had suffered at the bandit's hands to his cause, and now he wanted me to lead them. I was a bit reluctant with this, since it could lead to problems with the local authorities, but with another two hundred Denars on the table I accepted.

We set an ambush for the Captain early next morning, hoping to catch him as he met with the bandits to split the spoils. They met in a deserted alleyway, just as the merchant had been informed and we quickly moved to block their escape from all sides. Realizing they were trapped and outnumbered they tried to fight their way out, but we were nonetheless able to subdue them, though not without casualties. After all this was done, the merchant told me to return to my inn while he went to bring the Captain before the city's lord, King Graveth. I waited tensely for the next couple of hours and feared that things had somehow gone wrong and that I would have to flee for my life once more. But around sunset the merchant came and told me of what had happened. Apparently King Graveth, while grateful for the arrest of the crocked Captain, was not that happy about the way it was done. For this reason the merchant would have to leave town, but at least I was safe.

With this business concluded I went to the market to sell off all the spoils from the bandit's camp and gave the members of my little band their share before sending them home. All-in-all it was a pretty penny and for the first time I'm actually considering becoming a mercenary. I even asked around, and apparently Count Rimusk's army is currently camped outside of town. The reason I came here in the first place was to start a new life, but I had imagined myself as a clerk to some merchant or another, not a warrior. Still, this seems to be a much more sought after profession in this land, so maybe my true path lies with the sword rather than the quill.

Hmm, strange. As I finish writing this I have just realized that the deep melancholy that had settled upon me since leaving Athiana is now gone. For months the only certainty in my life has been that sooner or later, the Fair Wind would return home, leaving me behind. Now, for the first time, my path is clear, and I feel much better, even if that path may lead to an early grave.

---

So now you have met Valerian, as well as the main format of the AAR. I hope you will like it . I would like to apologize if I made this post too long. I know that this is a part of the game that any Warband player already knows by heart, but I considered it necessary in order to justify the somewhat atypical choices my character made. On that note, I would like to also mention a few things about why I started this AAR and why I chose this particular type of character.

When I first had this idea a few month ago, I started not so much from a desire to tell the story of my game, but to explore the history of Calradia itself. I had always felt that the few bits of information offered my the various companions was just too little and too rushed. Whenever I tried to put the various stories together I kept getting the impression that the Empire had come and gone in only a century or two, and that seemed unrealistically fast. So I decided to try and expand this history, and also to share my own view with others. For this, I needed a character that was a scholar at heart and a warrior only by necessity to explore the past, as well as shape the future. And so I came up with Valerian. I truly hope you will enjoy it.

 

[Nikolai II]

Nice touch with the historybook.

 

[cezar87]

Chapter II – A soldier's life​

July 1st 1257 by Calradian Reckoning, outside Jelkala

A long time ago, when I was in my early teens, I asked my father to tell me what the life of a soldier was like. His answer of course was characteristically succinct: the life of a soldier, he said, was made up of weeks of mind-numbing boredom followed by moments of pure chaos. This seemed strange to me at the time, since most of the stories about war I had heard or read about spoke of glorious battles, brave warriors and brilliant generals. But now that I've experienced a few things first-hand I can see how the tedium of patrols, daily drills and long, hard marches wouldn't make for a very good story. And of course, it all looks a lot more orderly for the bard or chronicler that it does for the man on the ground. But while the bards couldn't care less about what I do, this is now my life and the tedium, as well as the excitement, are still worth a few words in my journal.

Joining the army wasn't hard at all. As it turned out, the Kingdom of Rhodoks was at war with two of its neighbors and any man who was willing and able to fight was welcome. After my little adventure I decided to take the merchant’s advice and avoid King Graveth, so I had to find someone else to join up with. I had thought of looking for some small mercenary band, but a tavern keeper told me that Count Rimusk's army was camped just outside of town, so I went to find it. It wasn't very hard really, with the smoke of the campfires so clearly marking their location. When I arrived at the edge of the camp two soldiers who were acting as sentries walked up to me and asked what I was doing there. They eyed me suspiciously at first, since I had come armed, but relaxed and even laughed when I told them I was there to join up. They directed me to a campfire some distance away, to a Sergeant named Jored who took in the new recruits. The camp wasn't very well organized and I lost my way a few times before I managed to find the man. Once found, I told him why I was there he began asking me questions about my training, if I had ever killed anyone and about my experience in general. After, he had me assume a defensive and offensive stance, and then we sparred for a few minutes. Once this was all done he shrugged, said I would do and told me to follow him. We went to a tent near the middle of the camp where a clerk handed me a short contract and asked me to sign. Both men were a little surprised when I began reading it and again when I signed in the clear calligraphy of a scribe, but they said nothing. I was then directed to the Quartermaster to get some equipment. From that cart of battered but still usable arms I only picked out a shield and a woolen cap, since the things I had seemed somewhat better. And with that I was done. Four days later we began breaking camp, and on the fifth we left for the war.

Count Rimusk​

We were heading for Veluca, a Rhodok city further inland that had been besieged by the armies of Swadia. The trek took over a week and was one of the hardest times in my life so far since I was totally unprepared for the rigors of a march.

The first few days were tolerable, as the roads near Jelkala were still good and the terrain favorable. As the journey progressed, however, the terrain changed from gentle hills to the more rugged terrain of the a mountain pass. By this point the exhaustion had already been taking its toll on me, and my feet had developed painfull blisters that burst with the beginning of each day's march. As a result I began to fall behind more and more and this inevitably attracted unwanted attention. At first I only became the target of the other soldier's jokes and insults, but as soon as the sergeant in charge of my unit noticed, it became much worse. Whenever I would fall behind he would come up to me force me forward with a kick of his steel plated boot. If I somehow fell down instead of moving forward he would begin to kick me in the stomach until I got up again, all while shouting insults at me. Once, when I felt I just couldn't keep going, I tried to sit down by the side of the road to rest for just a few minutes, but I barely got the chance. Just a few moments later the sergeant came up to me and removed the bullwhip he carried wound around his waist. Even through the hide armor I was wearing I felt an explosion of pain when the lash made contact, and after just two such blows I began moving with a vigor I didn't know I still possessed.

On the sixth day of our march, just as my trembling legs felt ready give-way from under me and I was about to lose all hope of actually surviving long enough to see a battle, we finally reached the top of the pass and we began to move down-hill. I felt a wave of relief wash over my entire body at this and I marched on with renewed vigor, even if I still fell behind from time to time. Three days later, when we arrived at the rendezvous point some distance south of Veluca, we made our camp alongside those of the other lords gathered there. Much to my relief, we were told that we would remain there for a few more days, until all the lords had gathered.

Life in the camp, while not truly restful, was nonetheless not as demanding as the march and I was able to recover some of my strength. As a raw recruit, much of my time was spent doing menial tasks around the camp, such as digging latrines, fetching water or firewood, helping the cooks and so on. We were also drilled incessantly by the sergeants in preparation for the coming battle. It was during these drills that the contempt of my fellow soldiers lessened. While my performance during the march was dismal at best now they were able to see that I at least had some skill. This made them accept me a bit and I began befriending a few of them. One in particular, Mero, was very helpful. He was in his early twenties just like me, but it was obvious from the scars on his body that he had already seen quite a few battles. He was the one that taught me how to puncture a blister in order to drain it, what herbs I could use to calm the pain and how I should wrap my feet in cloth in order to protect them. These lessons proved invaluable once we were on the move again. He also began teaching me how to use a spear, the preferred weapon of the Rhodoks. It is an unfamiliar weapon for me, and even now I know that it will take some time before I can use it properly.

When the last of the lords had arrived with their armies we began breaking camp, moving out at noon on the next day. I fared much better this time, both due to Mero's lessons as well as to the much flatter terrain of the Velucan Hills.

The area around Veluca has been the source of the finest wines in Calradia since before Valerian's time, but as a border region it's also seen more than it's fair share of battles​

My first ever battle occurred among the famed vineyards of Veluca. In truth, it was more of a skirmish than a battle, but I am thankful for that. As the army of some ten thousand men moved closer to the besieged city, word came in from the scouts that the enemy had begun to retreat. This sent us all into a mad dash to catch up to the Swadians before they got away. Count Rimusk's force of about fifteen hundred men did not participate in the man battle, instead being tasked with protecting the western flank. One day, someone spotted enemies in the distance, and we moved in to attack. It seemed, at the time, that all we had encountered was a small band of straggles, so we charged forward without any precautions. When the enemy infantrymen noticed us, they began running towards a small copse of trees, apparently trying to escape. We ran after them without any heed, following them over the rolling hills towards the trees as our crossbowmen peppered them from afar. Filled more with excitement than fear, I ran as fast as I could, trying to stay at the front of the line. But all of it was a mistake. As we reached the top of one of the taller hills we encountered a firing squad of enemy crossbowmen with their weapons already aimed at us. Before we could react they released a volley of bolts, wounding or killing many. One of them pierced me in the right side of my body, causing an explosion of pain like nothing I had ever felt. I collapsed and rolled down the hill for a bit, even as another wave of men fell into the trap, their anguished screams filling my ears before I lost consciousness.

The crossbowmen pepper the enemy with bolts as the infantry advances​

I awoke some time later to find one of our own trying to loot my body. He quickly drew back, shocked, then shouted to the others that I was alive once he had recovered. He then helped me walk back to the camp where a surgeon tended to my wound. Removing the bolt proved almost as painfull as when it went in and I almost passed out again, but once it was done I felt a lot of relief. Luckily it hadn't hit anything vital, and the surgeon said that I would probably live if the fever didn't become too serious. This was both reassuring and distressing, but once he had stitched up the wound and put a poultice on it I had no choice but to hope.

I then left the surgeon's tent and started looking for familiar faces through the camp. I was still a bit dizzy from the blood loss, but I managed to find Mero near the camp's edge. He seemed pleased to see me still alive and, as we settled by the fire, where he proceeded to tell me what had happened during the rest of the battle. The force we had encountered was indeed a group of stragglers, but they were much more numerous and more cunning than anybody had expected. After two more waves of men had fallen into the ambush at the top of the hill, the enemy sprung their second trap as a group of Sawdian Men-at-arms charged out from among the trees. They took a heavy toll on our disorganized battle line and were only turned back by the precise shots of the crossbowmen. Outnumbered and with the element of surprise lost, they then attempted to escape. Enraged, Count Rimusk somehow managed to organize a counter-attack and all those that did not flee were mercilessly slain. How I had not been trampled during the cavalry charge, I don't know, but it seems the gods have seen it fit to keep me alive, even as they take my entire life apart. Such seems to be the odd mix of fortune and misfortune that I've been given.

The next day we received word that the main battle further east was over and that we had won. The Swadians had suffered a heavy blow and were now in full retreat. The host soon broke up into the various armies it was composed of, and we left for the Count's castle, near the town of Ruldi.

That march was almost as hard and arduous for me the first one. My wound continued to pain me and, a day into the march, the fever the surgeon had warned me about set in. It wasn't particularly bad, but combined with the march itself it left me drained each day. Thankfully, this time round the sergeant left me alone on account of my wound, and I was even allowed to ride on one of the supply wagons from time to time. This made it much more bearable and I tried to return the favor by keeping up with the others as much as I could. During the journey I encountered Sergeant Jored, whom I had not seen since I joined the army. Once he recognized me, he seemed to be genuinely shocked that I was still alive and did not hesitate to say so. I was taken aback by this and told him, in brief, the story of what had happened to me after I had enlisted. When I had finished, he told me with an evil grin on his face that if I had gotten through that I might just stand a chance of surviving. He then moved on, leaving me quite unnerved and wondering if it had not been a terrible mistake to become a mercenary.
We arrived in Ruldi twelve days after we departed, and the army was broken up into smaller units that were sent to the some of the smaller forts in the Count's possession. I was also sent to one such fort, higher up in the mountains and, once there, settled in to a more quiet life for the next month. Most of that time was spent either training or manning the walls. Guard duty was boring, but still better than the daily drills, even if those too were useful.

During this time I learned more about how to wield the sword and the spear, how to maintain my equipment and generally keeping fit. Since I already had some skill with weapons, the garrison commander began sending me on patrol once my wound had healed. During one such patrol I thought I had noticed a human-like shape moving near what looked like a cave. I mentioned this to Mero and others and we climbed up to investigate, all the while being careful not to be seen. When we reached the location we indeed found a small cave as well as its three occupants who attacked as soon as they saw us. Outnumbered and outmatched they didn't last long. The first was quickly beheaded, I managed to cut off the right hand of the second while the third surrendered soon after.

The cave, Mero said, was a small bandit's cache. He claimed that the mountains were dotted with them and that they were used to hide the bandit's loot before it was taken to their main hideout. Inside we found some food, weapons, armors, as well as a few Denars and some jewlery. This made us all very happy since everything we could carry was ours as spoils. We split the money we found evenly amongst ourselves, put the best things in whatever bags were around, tied several of them onto the backs of the two surviving bandits and carried the rest ourselves. Back at the fort, we reported the incident to the commander, who congratulated us for the deed, put the bandits in a cage then went to split the loot.

Of all, I benefited the most. Since it had been my keen eye that had spotted the cave Mero and the others agreed that I should receive a larger share. When I later sold everything off in the Jelkala market I found myself 300 Denars richer. I also managed to win a bit of respect amongst my peers, which went a long way to making my life easier.

About a week ago we received orders to join Count Rimusk at Ruldi, and after doing so left for the meeting point near Jelkala. King Graveth, apparently in anticipation of victory, decided to hold a great feast and a tournament before departing. Yesterday I was given leave for the first time since joining, and I went to the arena out of curiosity. The tournament is an unusual custom these Calradians have compared to what I am used to from Venira. For example, while back home those that fought in the gladiator pits were usually either slaves or professional fighters, here commoner and nobleman alike enter the melee and try to knock each other out. Also, while few duels in the pits were to the death, they were always fought with real weapons. Here, all the combatants use training weapons and blunt arrows in a strange caricature of a real battle. The tournament was won, much to my surprise, by a mercenary named Dranton who knocked out Count Etrosq in the final duel. I had expected the Count to win, and even bet 10 Denars on him. Since it seems that anybody can enter and win, next time I may even try it myself.

Now I'm back in the army's camp and the rumor is that we will be leaving sometime in the next three days. It's been a good time here. We've received extra rations and extra ale so we can celebrate too, and the mood in the camp is good. Perhaps this is the real reason for the festivities, to boost morale ahead of the campaign. If it is, then it looks like it worked since everyone in the camp seems to be, if not happy, at least content. Everyone except me. Sergeant Jored's words continue to haunt me and I wonder if I'll make it back this time. Still, I have no choice but to keep going. If I leave the army now I'll become a deserter and I have no more appetite for running. Hmm, I think I'll go see if I can get some more ale. Maybe that will help calm my nerves.

---

Thanks Nikolai and I hope you and all the lurkers out there liked the new update

I'm sorry for the delay in posting, but I've tun into some trouble with my laptop. I was so eager to start writing the AAR that I didn't test the game long enough to see if it will truly run. Sixty days into the game I discovered that it's impossible to fight a battle due to lag. I'm going to try to upgrading my RAMs, but it might take a bit. I have a really old laptop and finding components will be tricky. But I'm determined to do it . Until then I'll write using what I've done so far, though I'll be using a much narrower time frame than I had planned.

I also want to apologize for the lack of screen-shots again. If I try to use Fraps even the Main Menu lags horribly, so I've only been able to use the in-game screen-shot method, which unfortunately got me knocked out quite a few times. I promise to have better images once my system is upgraded .

 

[Nikolai II]

No worries. Nice writing anyway.

Also, some lag might be due to poor files - there are some threads in Taleworlds (some data of which has been copied to these forums) about how some graphics files are several hundred times larger than they should be, which means a drag of megabytes.

 

[cezar87]

Thanks

The lag, unfortunately, was definitely caused by insufficient RAMs. Consider that I was trying to play the game using a grand total of 512 MB of RAM, 64 of which were set aside for my on-board graphics card. I've just installed the new RAM's (2 GB, of which 256 MB are being used for video) and after several hours of play the game still runs just fine . I'm test-playing just to be sure this time, as well as to learn how best to use Fraps. I still don't dare to render the graphics with DirectX 9, but with all sliders to maximum it looks much better now, even with DirectX 7

 

[Bran]

Lucky you, I have 2 RAM, and my game isn't working well on minimum performance on directx 7

 

[cezar87]

Chapter III – Close calls​

August 13th 1257 by Calradian Reckoning, near Haringoth Castle

I'm standing outside the walls of Haringoth Castle, a mighty fortress on the border between the Rhodok and Swadian Kingdoms. We've been besieging it for over a week and very soon I think we will be storming the walls. My nerves are a little strained since this will be the first time I will be fighting on a castle's walls, and from what I've heard it is a bloody affair for the attackers. Mero says this is the part he hates the most about being a soldier and even with all the experience he's had the tension in his features is visible. Still, I've had some success on the battlefield so far and, as Sergeant Jored put it, I at least have a chance.

We left Jelkala on the third of July, I think by the same route of my first march. This time however I fared much better as the month of constant drills at the fort had left its mark. My endurance had increased much more that I had realized and my now callused feet were much better suited for hard marching. Since this time the entire Rhodok army was on the march we moved much slower and it took longer to reach Veluca. We spent two more days gathering supplies there, marched eastward for a few miles, then abruptly turned north. Three weeks after we had left Jelkala we reached the Nomar Plains and the border of the Rhodok Kingdom.

As we marched across the golden fields of grains almost ready to be harvested, I learned first hand about a practice of warfare that I find most distasteful: foraging. Despite it's name, in truth its just simple armed robbery. Every day several bands of soldiers would be sent out from the main army into the surrounding countryside to force the peasants to give them food at the point of a sword. Apparently, this is how armies get most of their supplies when in enemy territory, or so Mero says. Yet despite how unpleasant it was for me, I was often sent on such expeditions and all I could really do was to stay in the background rather than participate actively.

Thankfully, there were no incidents for the most part as the villagers were too scared to put up any fight. Instead they accepted the situation with a resignation that was no doubt born out of many similar past experiences. Once however things went differently. We were heading back to the main army one evening when we encountered a small group of peasants heading towards us, and Mero thought we should check out their wagon. From the contents, it seemed to me that they were trying to flee the fighting. Their wagon contained food, ale, clothes and many other household items that I had seen in the other homes we had raided so far.

I'm not sure how it all happened really, since I was still focused on the wagon's contents at the time, but suddenly I heard shouting, the sound of Mero drawing his sword and then the unmistakable gurgle of a dying man. All hell broke loose after that and the peasants attacked, using whatever weapons they had or just their bare fists. The whole thing didn't even last a minute and at the end all ten peasants were dead, two by my own hand. In the eerie silence that followed we just stood there, wondering where things had gone wrong until Sergeant Horn motioned us to load what we had gathered during the day into the peasant’s wagon. We left the bodies where they lay, though all this saddened me greatly and made me feel quite ashamed of myself. They were innocent in all of this and we had murdered them. In many ways they reminded me of my companions on the road to Jelkala and the stories of raids on the border villages they had told me of. I never imagined that I would someday become one of those stories. To Mero and the others I suspect this was all much easier. While I cannot call them evil, they have become hardened by years of army service and did not seem to be as affected as I was. Perhaps I will become like them with time, and the thought frightens me.

A Massacre in the Night​

A few days later we arrived at the walls of Uxkhal, the Swadian city we had set out towards and proceeded to lay siege to it. We hadn't even managed to construct the earthworks when word came in that the Swadian army was already drawing near. This forced the entire army to scramble in order to meet the enemy before they got too close and led to one of the fastest marches I've been through so far. We stopped a few miles north of the city and formed our line along a river. I was among those left in reserve, so for the most part I just watched as the battle progressed. At the center of our line were the heavy spearmen, flanked by lighter troops on each side and with the crossbowmen in front of them. Behind the main line and to the sides was were we in the reserves were placed and behind us and to the right were the few horsemen we had. When the enemy got close enough, the crossbowmen started shooting volley after volley at them. The Swadians replied in kind and soon I had to duck behind my shield or risk being hit. This continued for several minutes as the enemy infantry moved into position and finally stopped once they began to charge. As the two armies collided, a deafening din of shouts and weapons clanging against each other erupted making it impossible to hear anything. I stood there, watching it all from the back of the battle line and fearing they would break through. But after about half an hour they retreated, the crossbowmen once again peppering them from their new position behind the main line. The spearmen had managed to resist, and many more of the enemy lay dead than our own.

For a time I hoped this was the end of it, but there was one more act to play in this battle. Once the infantry had retreated far enough the Swadian Knights began to move. Panic began to overcome me as that mass of steel-clad men and horses thundered across the battlefield, picking up speed with each step. It seemed impossible that anything could possibly stop them from tearing right through us and I prepared in my mind for my inevitable demise. But our position had been well chosen and I only realized this when the cavalry began crossing the river. Our line had been set up with the heavy center right in front of a narrow ford, at the only place that the heavily armored men could cross without drowning. Forced to charge into the thickest and most disciplined part of the battle line many died on the spears of our pikemen while others missed the ford and fell into the river. I did little during this battle, but a few times some Swadian Knights managed to get to the other side of the line and we were sent in to kill them.

After the failed charge that had killed what looked like half of the enemy horsemen the Swadians retreated and soon we began to make our way back towards Uxkhal. We spent a few more days besieging the city before we received orders to move out. Why, I don't know, nor does anybody else. There are of course more rumors than there are men in the camp, but they aren't worth writing down. The only thing that is certain is that we began marching West along a large river until we arrived here at Haringoth Castle. To be honest, writing hasn't helped me this time, but I don't think we’ll be assaulting the walls tomorrow, at least. The siege towers don't really look close to being finished to me. Maybe the day after tomorrow? If so I might just find a way to calm myself until then.

August 26th 1257, Haringoth Castle

It's been almost two weeks since the assault on this castle and I'm glad to be alive. I've come close to death many times in the last two years, but this tine was the closest yet and I can feel that with every aching bone in my body. My hopes that there would still be some time before the assault began were in vain. The siege engineers worked all through the night to finish the ladders, ramps and towers and by noon on the next day we were ready.

The first wave, which had the task of bringing the towers and ladders to the walls were the hardest hit, with very few surviving to the end of the battle. Most died long before they even reached the walls, struck by the hail of crossbow bolts coming from the walls. Our sharpshooters did their best to stem the tide, but for every one enemy they hit there were another ten ready to take their place.

I was part of the third wave to be sent in. The first wave had already been massacred while the remains of the second were fighting desperately on the walls against overwhelming odds. As I advanced towards the walls I gripped my shield tightly as I held it in front of me, and cringed each time a bolt struck it. The closer I got to the tower I was supposed to climb the greater the fear grew as I saw more and more of the corpses of my comrades littered about the wall's base. Yet despite the fear, there was no choice but to move forward, pressed as I was by the other soldiers. As I began climbing the ramp the sounds of battle on the walls became clearer even as my ears were filled with the screams of the men around me that were struck by the crossbowmen on the walls.

The Assault​

From this point my memory is all a blur. Just as I was about to reach the wall I remember catching a glimpse of something in the corner of my right eye, then turning my head just enough to see the enemy crossbowman taking aim at me. I remember bringing my shield up out of pure instinct and then feeling the full force of the bolt as it struck it. Then, all I remember falling backwards into the void and a terror I cannot even begin to describe. For a long time after that, there was only darkness and nightmares.

I awoke only a few days ago and my body still hurt all over. At first I was confused as the room filled with wounded men was unfamiliar to me. Eventually a nurse came by, brought me food and water, then when I asked her, told me where I was. Apparently we had won and I was inside Haringoth Castle. I was found after the battle in a heap of bodies at the wall's base, wounded but still alive. I had been in a coma for several days before I briefly awoke, then continued to gain and lose consciousness until the fever that had come over me passed.

I don't know what will happen next, but I hope I don't have to travel any time soon. For now even walking to the latrine and back is torturous for me, and a journey of any length would be impossible. On the other hand, I wish I could rejoin the army soon just to find out what happened to Mero and my other friends. No one around here seems to know anything of their fate. For now, I need to rest. Even writing this has been exhausting.

September 8th 1257, near Veluca

Mero and the others are fine! It was such a relief to see them all when I arrived in the camp a few hours ago! They are the only friends I have left and I would not want them to come to any harm. I found out that it was in fact Mero that had come looking for me after the battle. He had seen me fall off the siege tower when the bolt hit my shield and had come looking for me in case I had somehow survived. He said that when he found me, I was barely breathing and that he had almost left me for dead until a twitch of my arm made him look more closely. I'm pretty sure that I would have died there if Mero hadn't come when he did and I'm quite thankful that I have him as a friend.

I still have bruises all over and the pains haven't left me yet, but I can stand on my own two feet now and I think I can rejoin the army. We'll be leaving soon, though I don't know where to. I'm hoping it's back to the fort, but the war isn't over yet so I have my doubts about that. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

September 10th 1257, near Veluca

We're leaving in a couple of hours to go raiding in Swadian territory. This time it will just be the remains our army and those of Counts Trimbau and Tribidan.

September 29th 1257, on the road from Dhirim

I don't even know where to begin. Mero is dead and so are most of my friends. The rest are still in the Swadian prisoner camp and I'm pretty sure they won't last very long. Prisoners of war are treated a little better here than in my homeland and most likely they will be sold off as slaves or executed. At least I managed to get free thanks to Sergeant Horn's advice back in Jelkala. A pity he didn't survive the battle.

The raiding went well at first, though it was a distasteful task for me, even worse than foraging, but orders were orders. We faced little opposition along the way since the armies of Swadia were busy elsewhere. Yet just as we were preparing to return home with our loot, the scouts reported that the way ahead was blocked by the armies of several Swadian lords heading our way. We immediately turned around to escape in the other direction, but found it blocked as well by yet another enemy army, smaller than the one behind us but still larger than our own. We were trapped and if we were to escape there was no choice but to do battle with the odds against us.

We formed up in an offensive formation, only to see the enemy charging at us instead. Because of this we had too little time to form a spear line before the Knights were upon us. I managed to brace the glaive I had taken before leaving Haringoth Castle in the ground just in time to stop the enemy horseman from trampling me. My weapon pierced the animal's chest, stopping it dead in its tracks while the rider flew off from the momentum of his charge. I then quickly extracted the weapon from the dying animal and managed to pierce another Knight in the abdomen as he rode past me, killing him instantly. With the charge now turning into a close-quarters melee I dropped the glaive and drew my sword. For what seemed like an eternity all I could do was to block the enemy's blows with my shield. The riders were too far out of reach and too heavily armored for me to do any real damage, but not all the horses were armored and I took advantage of this as much as I could, killing the animal and often trapping the rider beneath it. As the casualties among the Knights began to mount they began to retreat, but by this time the infantry had gotten close enough to charge our disorganized line. I fought like a madman that day, killing many of the more poorly trained and ill-equipped enemy infantrymen. As the battle dragged on I began to hope that we would actually win since we were killing many more of them than the other way round. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I heard the sound of a war-horn from somewhere behind us, then another from the front. At this second sound, the enemy infantry began to retreat and I turned to meet this new threat. To my horror, I saw hundreds of Swadian Knights forming up for a charge and all hope of surviving drained away from me. While we took a heavy toll on the enemy infantry, barely a third of us had survived this long. I turned to look at Mero and saw a grim look on his face that was echoed by my own feelings and without a word we began to prepare for our last stand. The enemy began moving towards us at a slow trot, picking up speed as they moved and giving us time to form up some semblance of a spear-line. But both we and the enemy knew that it was too little, too late to make any difference. When the charge finally hit, I was as prepared I could be, with my glaive fixed firmly in the ground behind me. But for some reason, maybe anger or desperation, I thrust my weapon forward into the oncoming horse's chest. While this still wounded the animal, it also sent me flying backwards from the force of the charge and for a few moments all I saw was stars as I landed painfully on my back. I managed to recover just in time to roll to one side and avoid being trampled, then got back to my feet and drew my sword. As I dodged and parried the blows of the horsemen sweeping over us, I caught a glimpse of Mero, just as the mace of a Knight shattered his skull. After that, all I remember is a deafening clang as an enemy mace struck my helmet as well.

Defeated...​

I awoke soon after the battle had ended with my head pounding from the blow I had received. I was captured along with the rest of the survivors and all my money and equipment was taken. Fortunately they didn't take my journal, since it held little value. Afterward we were force-marched for several days until we reached the outskirts of the Swadian city of Dhirim. In all that time we were given little food or water, and many died on the way from exhaustion or from the wounds they had sustained during the battle. Those that could not keep up were summarily executed or simply left to die where they had fallen. Once we had arrived, a ransom broker came to the camp. He inspected us as one would inspect cattle, picked out a few of us and took us away to his own camp, under the watchful eye of his guards.

...and Captured​

Ransoming is a strange custom, specific to Calradians. In my homeland, high-ranking prisoners would be kept confined until the end of the war while the rest were usually sold off as slaves. But here, even the common soldier has a chance of buying his freedom. Before leaving Jelkala, Sergeant Horn had told me of this, and directed me to a moneylender he knew was trustworthy. I left most of the silver I had earned in his care, receiving in it's place several promissory notes with the moneylender's seal that I could use to either reclaim my money or buy my freedom. So when the ransom broker came asking me for one hundred Denars, I removed one such note from my journal where I kept them and inscribed the sum to be paid as well as one of the cryptic pass-phrases we had agreed upon to indicate that it was given away willingly. After he had finished, he let all those that had payed go free while extracting yet more money from us in exchange for some rusty daggers and some food. This too, it seems, is a common practice here.

We're now camped by the side of the road for the night and we plan to make our way back to Veluca as soon as we can. Most of those I'm traveling with served other lords and the only person here that I know is Sergeant Jored. While my last encounter with him was less than pleasant, he seems to have developed a certain respect for me. He even confessed that he may have been wrong about me. He told me that, by his count, at least twelve foes feel before me, before I was finally knocked out. He also said that he had been impressed with the discipline with which I faced a Swadian charge and that, whatever I had been before coming here, I had the heart of a warrior within me. Ha! What cold comfort that is to me now. Mero had more of a warrior's heart than I ever will, and now he is dead.

---

And here's the latest update. I hope you've enjoyed

 

[Bran]

Yes, I enjoyed it, and will wait for more.

 

[Director]

"Hold them by the nose and kick them in the pants" is a tactic as old as it is useful. A pity the warband was killed but your good fortune to survive.

... and now?

 

[cezar87]

Chapter IV – The Lessons War Teaches​

October 16th 1257, Veluca

At last we're here. The trip took quite some time and I used up all my ink on the last entry, so I've had to wait until now to write about it. We arrived yesterday, and it's amazing how good even the flee-infested bead of this inn can feel after weeks of sleeping on the bare ground. Even the meager bedroll I used while with the army would have been an improvement to that.

So where to begin? We started making our way back to the Rhodok Kingdom the day after my last entry. We marched as hard and fast as we could manage, though a few of us were wounded, and one even died along the way. Sergeant Jored took the lead in our little group and he was the main reason we managed to stay together. I suspect that the Sergeant had also been surprised to have survived the battle and, once the shock had passed by the next morning, he again became the stern task-master I knew him to be. Also, the admiration he claimed to feel for me seemed to have vanished, but I suspect it's still there, locked away behind the fortress-like walls of his heart. Since I had not yet recovered from my own personal losses in that battle I did not initially welcome the rigor and discipline he seemed to expect of us. In fact I hated him for it. But after a few days I could not help but notice how it kept me focused on the task at hand and I began to see him in a new light. He was no longer the cruel man who enjoyed torturing us, but merely a hardened soldier who did what had to be done to keep us from falling apart.

Several times during the journey, we had to stop in various towns and villages along the way to buy more supplies. For the most part it was the Sergeant who did the bargaining during these stops and, being Rhodoks, we were quite poorly received. But silver is silver and the merchants had no qualms about taking as much of ours as they could manage. After a while, I got an idea and took the lead in the negotiations instead, using my exotic accent to mask our true identities. While this still meant a cold welcome at best, we at least managed to get some better prices. The closer we got to the border however, the harder it became to come by supplies. Many of the villages and inns on the road were either abandoned or looted, but even a burnt-out inn can provide some shelter and we welcomed it all the more as the weather became colder and colder as each day passed.

Another problem we faced was the threat of bandits. With the armies of both kingdoms preoccupied elsewhere, Sergeant Jored claimed that lawlessness was bound to be rife. For this reason we took turns keeping watch each night, even if we knew that we stood little chance of defending ourselves if we were actually attacked. In this sense we had an unexpected boon when we came across the remnants of a battle. From among the rotting corpses we managed to salvage some weapons and armor, and while I suspect the equipment was not all that good to begin with, it was still an improvement to what we already had. Fortunately, we encountered no bandits on the journey. I don't know if this was because we simply managed avoid their bands altogether, or if our ragged yet martial appearance convinced them that we were not worth the trouble, but I am grateful regardless.

After we crossed the border, the scenery became less bleak and it seemed that the Swadian side had been hit much harder than ours. We arrived in Veluca late in the afternoon and we quickly looked for the nearest cheap inn. As soon as we had rented the beads, we collapsed into a deep sleep, too exhausted from the journey to care about food. Earlier today, while I was out looking for some ink, Sergeant Jored learned that Uxkhal had recently fallen and tonight I think we will celebrate this news, as well as our safe arrival, before moving on to Jelkala.

October 24th 1257, outside Jelkala

We've finaly arrived in Jelkala, but we've also found out that Count Rimusk was badly wounded after the last battle and his army was shattered. The Swadians have also been hot on our heels it seems and have begun raiding deep into Rhodok territory. With most of the Kingdom's armies busy elsewhere every able-bodied soldier will be needed to help push them back and we've been drafted into Count Reland's army. We won't be leaving immediately however, since the King has decided to hold a feast and a tournament to celebrate the fall of Uxkhal.

Count Reland​

October 26th 1257, outside Jelkala

I still can't believe it, but I've won the tournament! Not only that, but I've gained quite a bit of money as a result. I had decided to join the lists more out of curiosity and I didn't expect to actually win! It was a strange experience since we fought with practice weapons instead of real ones and the melee felt more chaotic than a real battle. While most weapons couldn't actually kill even by accident, they still hurt a lot and more than a few people left with broken arms or legs. I almost got knocked out during the first round because I tried to use my sword like I would use a normal one and didn't actually do any damage. But the trick is to just simply hit your opponent with as much strength as possible anywhere it would hurt. The armor we wore did prevent the blunted crossbow bolts from penetrating, but it did nothing for the pain. King Graveth got knocked out sometime during the third round by Count Reland, only for him to be knocked out in turn during the fourth. At one point I even faced off with Sergeant Jored in the fifth round. He was using a two-handed sword that would have knocked me senseless in one blow so I mostly dodged him, using my sword and shield to parry what I couldn't dodge. After several minutes of this he began to tire. At one point, he tried to take me out with a powerful blow that would have probably broken some bones if it had connected. But instead I crouched, letting the blade pass harmlessly over my head, and once it hit the ground next to me I got up and aimed a blow to his head. He tried to dodge as well, but I was too fast for him and my blade hit his helmet, making a loud clang as it did so. He stumbled to one side, fell to the ground and didn't get up. Afterwards he was unconscious for almost two hours and I worried I had hit him too hard. To be honest, I didn't actually expect my blow to be so hard, but it seems that months of training and campaigning have increased my strength quite a lot. At the end of the tournament I received the prize of 200 Denars, as well as a pole ax. On top of that I got another thirteen hundred Denars from a bet I placed on myself at one point. I'm going to take most of it to Enero the Moneylender later today since I don't want to lose it while on campaign. The pole ax I'll probably keep, but it will take some time to learn how to wield it properly. It's quite different from anything I've used so far.

November 10th 1257, somewhere between Ruldi and Jelkala

It's been quite a harrowing couple of weeks and for the first time ever I've had to run from a battle. It all started after we left Jelkala to try and push back the enemy raids. The first signs of how bad it was came from the numerous peasants we encountered who were fleeing south. From them we managed to learn that the Swadians were led by Count Meltor, that they had split up into may smaller bands and were trying to devastate as much of the countryside as possible. For me, this sounded like good news since I thought that smaller bands would be easier to defeat, but I soon realized just how wrong I was.

Our first encounter occurred in a small village in the mountain pass between Jelkala and Veluca where we met a small group of enemy cavalrymen. They saw us coming however and fled before we could get to the village. After gathering as much information as possible from the surviving peasants, we also split up in an attempt to stop them. The pattern, however continued to repeat itself numerous times, with them looting and burning whole villages and us arriving too late do do anything about it. And even when we did manage to arrive in time, we often had to fight for our lives since the enemy army seemed to be made up of seasoned veterans. It also soon became clear that they outnumbered us, judging by the size of their raiding parties and the large area they managed to cover each day.

Their raids were also more brutal than those we had done only a few months before. When we had raided, it was only for the Count's personal gain, and we simply took the best and most valuable things, leaving the rest behind and those peasants that didn't resist unharmed. But Count Meltor's strategy was different. His men would usually take whatever they could carry then burn the rest and also slaughter many of the villagers. His raids seemed to be done out of spite and were meant to harm the Kingdom as much as possible for as long as possible. Their immediate effect, however, was that we had no way to get fresh supplies.

This game of cat and mouse continued for two weeks. How the enemy commander managed to keep his forces so organized over such a large area, I'm not sure, but is seemed like they were one step ahead of us each time. At one point they even managed to overtake us and headed towards Jelkala, striping the land bare as they went, then turned East towards Ruldi after they crossed the Selver river. For us, this chase proved exhausting and with supplies growing short we were soon forced to ration what we already had.

By the time they finally decided to face us in open battle we were too weakened to put up a real fight. We held off the infantry charge well enough, but when the heavy cavalry came, we were simply shattered. At first only a few ran from the fighting, but soon more joined in until the entire army was in a rout. The enemy cavalrymen didn't stop there however and began riding us down as we ran, one by one. Many drowned as they tried to swim across the river, pulled down by their armor. Others tried to flee East or West in the direction of Ruldi or Jelkala, but could not outrun the horsemen. I and several others on the other hand headed into the pine forest higher up the valley's slope. There I managed to lose my pursuer, who decided to go after easier pray, but even then I didn't stop running. Instead I kept going until I felt I just couldn't run anymore, then collapsed, desperate for breath. I lay there motionless for several minutes, catching my breath and listening for any sign that I was being followed, but found only a dead silence. When I felt able I got up, took off as much of my heavy armor as I dared and abandoned it there along with the pole ax, then began marching Westwards to Jelkala as fast as I could.

The Swadian cavalry as the wreak havoc on the disorganized Rhodok line ​

I walked all day and into the night, stopping only to catch my breath for a little while. I skirted the edge of the forest from where I could still see the river under the moonlight, but also be able to retreat into the woods in case of danger. Aside from Count Meltor's men, I also feared being attacked by wild animals, and every now and again a wolf's howl in the distance would send a chill down my spine. Sometime after dawn I came within sight of a village and was relieved to see that it had not been looted, since this meant that somehow I had managed to outrun the Swadians. I went in and almost collapsed into the arms of one of the villagers from the exhaustion. They gave me food and water and I regained some of my strength, then I told them about the battle and about the danger they were in, sending them into a panicked flurry of activity as a result. I left as they were packing whatever they could into wagons and onto mules, taking some food and water that they gave me.

I continued walking along the banks of the Selver for four straight days, warning every village on the way. With Count Meltor's army still on the loose nowhere would be safe. Since as far as I knew I was the only one to have safely escaped, I had to reach Jelkala as soon as possible and warn the garrison there of Count Reland's defeat. So I walked on, until late in the afternoon of the forth day I saw what looked like a large army camped in the distance. At first I approached warily, fearing that it was another Swadian host, but as I got closer I noticed the banners of King Graveth and Count Tellrog flying over the camp. This filled me with relief, but also surprise since as far as I knew King Graveth had gone North along the coast to deal with the raids near Yalen. I redoubled my pace in order to reach the camp as soon as possible, but I was stopped short by mounted scouts. They were suspicious at first and interrogated me as to who I was and why I was in such a hurry to reach the camp. But once I told them about the battle they helped me climb onto a horse and took me swiftly to the King, though not before taking away my weapons.

The King's tent, while certainly regal in appearance, was by no means lavish. Instead it had a functional look to it, both inside and out, with just enough trappings to remind others of who resided there. This was the first time I had seen him this close and I soon realized why he was sometimes called the Great Grizzly of the Mountains among the troops. Standing at more than two meters tall and with a well-muscled body he was an imposing figure, to say the least. When I entered the tent I kneeled before him with my head bowed as I knew was the custom here, but he quickly told me to rise, then asked why I had come. I told him in detail of our attempts at stopping Count Meltor's depredations, of the battle near Ruldi and the subsequent defeat, of my flight when the tides turned against us and of my attempts to warn the defenders of Jelkala. As I spoke his anger seemed to build up more and more and for a time I feared that it was because I fled the battle. But once I finished my story he began cursing Count Meltor and the Swadians loudly, apparently oblivious of the rest of the people in the tent, then once he had calmed down he gave orders to his commanders to move out at first light towards Ruldi. After this he turned back to me and, with a grave tone, asked me a question: “Were you among the first or the last to run?”. “Somewhere in the middle, Your Highness.” was the answer I blurted out before I had a chance to think it through. For a few second his face was impassive and I feared that perhaps the truth had not been the best answer. But slowly, a smile appeared on his features, and it soon grew larger until it turned into a booming laughter that lasted for over a minute. When he finally managed to get a hold of himself he once again turned to me and said, still half-laughing “That's good! That's very good! You were brave enough to stand while others ran, yet smart enough to know when bravery only means suicide. It's good to know that there are men like you on our side.” He smiled at me, then said “You've also shown great dedication to my realm by trying to warn everyone of the danger, rather than hiding away until it had passed, and for that you shall be rewarded.”

With that he gave instructions for me to be given some food, water and a tent to rest in, then sent me away with a page to guide me. After eating my first warm meal in days I fell asleep until noon the next day and found that the army had departed, leaving it's baggage train behind so that it would not be slowed down. I don't know exactly what happened in the battle that followed other that the fact that we won. Count Meltor's reign of terror had ended and the prisoners were freed, among them Count Reland and Sergeant Jored.

When the army returned I was given five hundred Denars by the King as well as some new equipment, then I was told that I would be serving in Count Tellrog's army for the time being. Sergeant Jored, however, has been drafted by the King on account of his experience, so it seems I'm on my own again. I'm not sure what will come next, but I hope that we will pass through Jelkala so I can visit the moneylender.

Count Tellrog​

November 28th 1257, near Emer

I'm tired. It's been about nine months since I decided to become a mercenary and ever since, I've been almost constantly on campaign. Yet even now, as winter is setting in, there still seems to be no end in sight to the fighting.

We took care of the raiders at least. There were two different enemy armies to deal with, one deep inside Rhodok territory, the other on the borders. The one inside the borders was led by Count Mirchaud and it was trying to emulate the tactics of Count Meltor, but with far less success. This force was smaller, less well trained and tended to stay together rather than splitting into smaller bands. So when the combined force of our army and that of Count Kurnias caught up to them near Fedner, the advantage was clearly on our side.

At the start of the battle we were at the top of a tall hill, while the enemy had been caught by surprise further down. This allowed our crossbowmen to pepper them with bolts while we infantrymen moved in, but staying well outside the range of the enemy missile troops. Our large pavise shields also protected us against the enemy crossbowmen as we advanced, making them essentially useless in this battle. When we got close enough to the enemy line, we charged with our spears forward and shields up, skewering several of those who had no shield to protect them. As we slowly butchered the infantry, the cavalry tried to flank us out of desperation, but the terrain was against them. With rolling hills instead of flat plains, the heavy horsemen simply couldn't pick up enough speed for the charge and soon many had been impaled on our spears. After three hours of fighting, the battle was won. Count Mirchaud and the remains of his Knights had escaped, but we knew that they would not be back anytime soon.

A battle in the hills​

After that battle we moved out of the mountains and joined up with several more armies that were returning from Uxkhal and we began chasing our next quarry, Count Ryis. Unlike the other two he was a more cautious man, choosing to raid along the border rather than going up into the mountains. We caught up with him as he was laying siege to the town of Emer. Heavily outnumbered, and forced to also fight off a sally of Emer's defenders, his forces were utterly crushed.

Now we're camped outside the town and the rumor around the camp is that the lords are trying to figure out what to do next. I don't really understand why the Swadians don't sue for peace. As far as I know they've lost an important city and several other castles and towns so far, and with winter almost here I don't know what they hope to achieve. But the decision isn't in my hands so there's nothing I can do about it. I just hope it will end soon.

December 9th, outside Veluca

We've been camped outside Veluca for two days now and we still haven't received any orders. From the looks of things, the lords still haven't decided what to do. While here though I've found myself in a very strange position. With all the losses sustained during the last months many of the lords have been forced to call up peasant levies to bolster their ranks. Many of them, however, don't even know how to hold a spear right and to my surprise quite a few have come to me for help. This was very strange, considering that only a few months ago I could barely keep up with the army, but I tried to help them nonetheless. All I could really think of though was to show them how to block and parry so they could at least stand a chance of surviving to the end of a battle, since I doubt I'll have enough time to teach them more. Also, some of them have inevitably tried to befriend me, just like I had befriended Mero so many months ago. But I've done my best to keep my distance. I guess the biggest lesson I've learned so far is that in war you need to harden your heart if you want to get out with your mind in one piece. I know that if I loose another friend like I did Mero I'll loose my own mind completely. Strange. I recall that my father was quite close to many of the men under his command. But then again, Venira had not seen a war since I was fifteen or sixteen. Calradia is different however. Wars here abound and even the strongest friendship can be shattered in the blink of an eye.

December 13th, still outside Veluca

Ah, some good news at last. A messenger came into the camp a few hours ago and soon after King Graveth announced that the Swadians had surrendered. At long last the war is over, and not a moment too soon for my tastes.

---

Sorry everyone for the long delay. I had some writer's block and it took a lot longer to write this than I expected.

Yes, I enjoyed it, and will wait for more.

Alright, here's some more then

"Hold them by the nose and kick them in the pants" is a tactic as old as it is useful. A pity the warband was killed but your good fortune to survive.

... and now?

Welcome to the story and I hope you liked it .

Regarding your question, if there is anything that Calradia does not lack, that is wars and warbands. With this one destroyed I just joined another. After all, a mercenary's got to make a killing...ah, I mean living

 

[cezar87]

Chapter V – Into the wilderness​

December 19th 1257, somewhere in the field

It seems to be my lot in life to be disappointed. Just a few days ago the city of Veluca was abuzz with with preparations for a great celebration and we soldiers were spending more time in the taverns and brothels than in the camp, taking some well-earned leave for ourselves. But it all ended when another messenger came to see the King, this time bearing ill news. The Sarranids had apparently crossed the southern frontier and were now raiding many villages on the border, thus breaking the truce they had signed only a few months previously. It looks like the peace that I longed for didn't even last a week, if it ever existed at all. Now we're marching South along the edge of the mountains, and all of us hope we can put an end to this quickly.

January 3rd 1258, near Almerra Castle

We're getting closer to the border now, and it's starting to look like Count Meltor's campaign all over again. A lot of peasants are fleeing deeper into Rhodok territory, but the rumor is that the enemy have ventured even beyond Jamiche Castle along the coast.

I don't really know what to expect once we get there since I don't know much about the Sarranids and their ways of fighting. From what I've gathered from some of the more seasoned soldiers, they also put a great emphasis on heavy cavalry like the Swadians, but also use lighter cavalry to harass their enemies. If so, I don't think we will have any problems. I've already seen first-hand what a Rhodok spear line can do to a Swadian charge, so this should be little different.

January 8th 1258, on the southern Rhodok border

It seems I was wrong in many ways, some good, some bad. The good news is that this isn't like Count Meltor's campaign. The Sarranids are behaving more like bandits, taking whatever valuables they can carry, then fleeing across the border at the first sign of trouble. They're not burning whole villages to the ground and most of the peasant's supplies are still mostly intact. This means we won't starve like we did last time, but if it keeps up things might change. Fortunately I've also heard that the King has arranged for food to be brought in from Jelkala's storehouses. It probably won't be much, but it's better than nothing.

The bad news is that, while we would probably massacre their light cavalry in a fair fight, we'd have to catch them first. They use smaller horses than the Swadians and they're incredibly fast. We've encountered them a few times already and even when we took them by surprise they managed to make a run for it. Since we have precious few horsemen on our side I don't think we have any chance of catching them.

Also on a good note, winter doesn't seem to be as harsh as I had feared it to be around here. When we crossed the mountains the last time there was already quite a lot of snow in the passes but here the weather is pleasant, quite similar in fact to that of my homeland. The days are cool, but not cold and it rains quite often. That's still an annoyance, but much better than what I had expected.

January 15th

The Sarranids seem to be getting bolder instead of backing down now that we've arrived. Their raiding parties are getting bigger and now they're bringing infantry along as well. They also tried to fight us off instead of running away. I've been in a few such skirmishes so far and we've won each time since they seem to be poorly trained. Others, on the other hand, haven't been so lucky. A few groups have tried to pursue them across the border, but they never returned. Because of this, Count Tellrog has forbidden us from following them once they run, but our frustration is building.

Somehow, I think this is their plan, to draw us out in small groups then ambush us once we're far away enough from the main army.

January 18th 1258, Jamiche Castle

Two days ago we came across the largest raiding party so far, a force of over four hundred men led by Emir Bilyia and we were almost defeated. We encountered them a few kilometers east of Jamiche as they were pillaging the countryside. I'm not sure how they managed to get so far beyond the border, but as soon as they saw us approaching they formed-up for battle. Their force was larger than ours, but we were all eager for a fight after so many weeks of frustration.

We moved in cautiously at first while the missile troops exchanged fire. Their archers tried their best to stop us, but our large shields protected us well, and to be honest it wasn't as bad as the Swadian crossbow volleys I've faced in the past.

As soon as we got close enough, we charged and immediately their line began to waver. While there were twice as many of them as there were of us, but most were poorly trained levies, while most on our side were already veterans. This made for a very uneven battle, and had things stayed as they were we probably would have won. But while we were busy with the infantry, the enemy heavy cavalry, the Mamlukes, emerged from behind a nearby hill and laid waste to the crossbowmen before charging us. We were unprepared for this and it took a heavy toll on those at the back of the line while pushing those at the front straight into the enemy's swords and spears. I fought as desperately as I had done when Count Rimusk was defeated, trying to carve my way out from the press of men and horses. Fortunately, the military cleaver I had been given by the King's Master-of-Arms made swift work of the poorly armored enemies and I soon found myself on the other side of the enemy battle-line. After more of us broke through both lines devolved into small groups of soldiers fighting one another, with the Mamlukes sowing chaos as they moved around the battlefield.

The chaotic battle near Jamiche​

Throughout the battle I had several run-ins with these horsemen. For the most part I managed to fight them off by chopping away at the horse's unprotected legs, then finishing off the rider before he had a chance to get up. Just once however, while I has busy fighting one of the more well-trained Sarranid soldiers, one of the Mamlukes came in from behind me and hit me in the back with his heavy mace. While my armor protected me from most of the blow, it did knock me off my feet and the footman tried to take advantage if this by stabbing my with his sword while I was on the ground. Out of instinct I rolled to one side, just in time to avoid his blade, then I got up and punched him with my mailed fist in the face, which was unprotected. This sent him stumbling backward and he fell, unconscious. I then picked up my cleaver, thought about finishing him off, but as he was no longer a threat I just moved on.

The battle lasted all afternoon, and by sunset no clear winner had emerged. Eventually the Sarranids began to pull back and, weary from the day's fighting, we did not pursue. Both armies remained on the battlefield however, but neither seemed eager to attack the other, and after nightfall Count Tellrog gave the order to quietly retreat.

We arrived here at Jamiche Castle early on the next morning and we were all quite thankful to be behind it's protective walls. The battle took a heavy toll on both sides I think. Our force had been reduced by half and as far as I could tell, the enemy was just as badly hit. Unfortunately, among the casualties on our side was Count Tellrog, who was struck by an arrow in his thigh and I haven't seen him since we arrived here. But I'm guessing he's not doing well, considering that Count Falsevor, who arrived yesterday as well, announced that count Telrog would be unable to fight for a while and that we will be serving under his command from now on. This would be the fourth lord I've served in less than a year and if I didn't have my journal to look back on, I probably would have lost track by now.

Count Falsevor​

For now we will remain hear to heal up after the battle. Unlike many, I managed to escape with only a few minor cuts and bruises, save for the large one on my back. Soon I'm sure we will receive new orders, but for now I welcome a bit of rest.

January 22nd 1258, Jamiche Castle

King Graveth arrived today, along with the entire Royal Army. Soon after arriving he made the announcement that we will all be heading out across the border, to raid in Sarranid territory. This was met with a great cheer from all the soldiers in the castle, but I have my doubts. I remember how smaller bands were lost after crossing the border, and I fear this is just another part of their trap. On the other hand, Count Falsevor and King Graveth's forces are some of the largest individual armies I've seen so far, and both are well equipped. It will take quite a lot for the enemy to destroy both of them. Regardless of my misgivings, I have no choice but to follow my orders so all I can do at this point is to hope for the best.

January 31st 1258, near the Ayn Assuadi oasis

So far things seem to be going well. Since we crossed the border we've faced no opposition at all, and what enemy warbands our scouts did spot fled as soon as they noticed us. Still, this unnerves me. I'm no general, but this all seems too easy to me and I can't shake the feeling that we're heading into a trap. On the other hand our host is rather large, almost five thousand strong from what I've seen and perhaps this is what is keeping the enemy at bay.

Raiding has been for me, as always, quite unpleasant. But after months in the army I have at least grown somewhat used to it, though I still try to keep my participation to a minimum. There is, of course little to raid in this barren land. There is little water to be had anywhere, and what habitation exists is centered around oases. It's also quite hot, and the days are more like early summer than mid winter. I can only imagine how hot it can get here during the actual summer. The nights on the other hand are very cold, and more than once I've found our water supplies had frozen during the night when I went to refill my canteen in the morning.

From what I've heard, tomorrow we will be heading further into the desert, but I hope we turn back soon.

February 4th 1258, East of the Rushdigh oasis

King Graveth has decided to return to the Kingdom, but Count Falsevor wants to press on. I'm not sure why he is doing this, but greed may be the reason. We've focused more on attacking caravans recently as their numbers began to increase the deeper we went into enemy territory. The merchants probably didn't expect us to venture so far.

For the most part our raids were civilized (if raids can be called such) compared to what I've seen in the past months. Those merchants that did nor resist, while loosing all of their trade goods, were still allowed to leave with enough food and water to make it to the nearest oasis. Those that, out of some madness, decided to fight back however, were less fortunate. Once we had defeated them we took everything they had and the survivors were executed on the spot so as to not be a burden on our supplies.

While most of the caravans carried only basic supplies between oases, a few had various luxury goods that can bring great wealth. The hope of finding more such caravans is what I think is driving Count Falsevor on, but I fear that his greed will only get us all into trouble. To make matters worse, the terrain beyond the Caraf hills seems to be even more desolate. From the top of the hills all I could see in front of me was a mostly featureless sea of dunes stretching all the way to the horizon. Luckily we are traveling along the edge of the mountains that make up the border between the Sarranids and the Khergits. The terrain here is still rocky and there seems to be a well-worn path that probably doubles as a road. If we don't stray from it we probably won't get lost, but that does not alleviate my fears of an ambush.

Late February 1258

It's been several days since I escaped, my horse has just died and I have no idea where in this blasted desert I am. I'm using the horse's blood to write this and I hope it will help me calm down a bit. I can already feel the panic welling up inside me but I need to somehow clear my head! I need to focus!

In the end I was right, of course. Falsevor's greed did get us into trouble. Sure, we managed to find some caravans just brimming with enough expensive goods that even us common soldiers could make a small fortune. But what use was that if we never got the chance to sell them off! With every day we marched, my feeling of impending doom became stronger, even more so when the order to ration the water came. To make things worse, it wasn't just me that had a bad feeling about all of this, many of the other soldiers I talked to also felt the same. It seemed to me that the Count was the only one who was blind to the danger we were in. In the end, Falsevor finally decided we had gone far enough and turned the army around, but by then it was too late. A few days after we started making our way back to the border we encountered a large enemy army blocking our path.

There were a lot more of them than there were of us, and they had quite a lot of Malukes and archers. Yet despite this we had no choice but to fight them. For a time, we simply faced off with the enemy without any side making a move, but after about half an hour Count Falsevor gave the order to advance. As soon as we were in range however, the archers began loosing volley after volley, darkening the sky with their arrows and breaking up our formation as we tried to protect ourselves. Many died and as we struggled to advance against the hail of missiles the enemy cavalry began to charge, forcing us to either brace our spears while exposing ourselves to the archers or risk being trampled by the heavy horsemen. Being in the third row of soldiers I decided to choose the former and readied my bardiche. The charge tore into our unprepared line like a hot knife through butter and many died under the horsemen's hooves. Since I had been ready I did not suffer the same fate, instead impaling the first rider's mount and stopping it dead in it's tracks. But soon more came, increasing the pressure on our line and forcing us to move backwards until they broke through to the other side.

The battle turns sour​

With our formation completely shattered the infantry moved in to support the Mamlukes and a desperate one-on-one fight began. The horsemen rarely stayed in one place, instead sowing chaos in one place, then moving on. At first I used my bardiche as much as possible, it's blade being ideal to chop through man and beast alike. Once, a high swing of mine even managed to decapitate a rider as he charged past me. As the battle turned against us, however, I was forced to switch to my cleaver as more of the infantry began to gang up on me. I began chopping away at enemies left and right, the sharp, heavy blade easily passing through whatever armor they may have had. For a long time I fought, always trying to avoid being surrounded, always hacking away at my foes and leaving a trail of corpses as I moved across the battlefield. In the end it was all in vain and I was surrounded, yet despite their advantage my foes seemed to be reluctant to attack after seeing so many of their comrades fall before me. Taking advantage of this short pause, I glanced around to see how the battle was going and to my horror I realized that I was the only one still standing. Despair began to overtake me, yet despite the certainty of death, or perhaps because of it, I decided to make one last attempt to break free and maybe steal one of the riderless horses that were wandering aimlessly around the battlefield. Just as I began to make my move however one of my opponents, a man dressed in ornate and expensive armor, shouted “Yield!” in a commanding tone. Realizing that this was the best chance I had of surviving, I dropped my blade and was taken prisoner.

There were few survivors after that disaster. Those soldiers that could afford to pay for their freedom were taken along to be sold to a ransom broker, while those that could not were executed then and there. Several noblemen were also captured, among them being Count Falsevor. The nobles were given special treatment and were even allowed to roam freely, while the common soldiers were tied up one to the other and dragged behind a horse. I, on the other hand was stripped of everything I had and kept separated from everyone else. At the time I couldn't figure out the reasons for this.

We traveled for several days, and I received no food and little water in all that time, all the while being forced to move at the pace set by the horseman to which I was bound. It was exhausting, and it was clear that I was being treated much worse than the others. After several days of traveling we arrived at a small oasis and I was tied to a palm tree with a guard there to make sure I didn't escape. I was perplexed at this treatment and only after sunset did things start to become clearer, when a man in good armor (a sergeant I think) came and took me to a large tent at the center of the camp. There I saw the man that had commanded me to yield, and found that it was none other than Emir Muhnir, the leader of the enemy army we had faced. He ordered me to kneel with a harsh tone, but before I had the chance to do so one of his guards hit me with his shaft of his spear in the back of my knees, forcing me down painfully. “What is your name” he then asked, in the same cold, harsh tone. “I am Valerian, my lord” only the realizing how parched my throat was by the raspy sound of my voice. “I am an exi...” I tried to continue, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “I do not care where you are from or why you are here, mercenary! Your name will simply be required for when your sentence is read out.” This sent a chill down my spine, and the fear and confusion was no doubt visible on my face. “You do not know what you have done?” he asked, somewhat amused. I shook my head. “Do you remember killing a man in gold-trimmed armor during the battle?” I did, he was the one I had decapitated with my bardiche as he rode past me, but to my captor I said nothing. “Do you know who he was?”. Again, I shook my head. “He was a nephew of Sultan Hakim, a man of royal blood.” he said. “And in our land it is the gravest of crimes for a commoner to spill royal blood. For this, you must be punished” he continued, a cruel smile on his face. Terror began to overwhelm me as he spoke and without realizing it I tried to get up and run, only to be pushed back down by one of the guards. “There is no escaping your fate, I saw you do it and the word of an Emir will count much more than that of some foreign vulture. You will be found guilty, and you will be slowly pulled apart by four camels. It is a painful way to die, I am told, but a fitting one for the likes of you.” He paused, then said “You will be taken to the city of Darquba and held there in the dungeon until the Sultan has the time to deal with you” With this he gave the order for me to be taken away, and I was led off by the same man who had brought me to the tent.

Even as I was being escorted back, I began thinking of ways to escape. It was certain that if they managed to bring me to Darquba, I would have no chance. And if I endured more of the harsh treatment they had been giving me, soon I would probably be too weak to walk, let alone run, but an idea came to me as I was once again being tied to the palm tree. Two years of my life had been spent at sea, and while my duties were those of a scribe, I did learn a thing or two about sailing in case I was ever needed in an emergency. This included tying ropes, and I quickly realized that it would be easy for me to untie the simple knot they had used, even without being able to see it.

I took my time, working on the rope only when my guard was distracted and once I had finished, I remained there, waiting for the best moment to make my escape. It came sometime in the early morning, when most of the camp had fallen asleep and the man guarding me turned around to relieve himself. Before he could react I pounced, using the rope I had been bound with to strangle him from behind. He struggled for a while until his body finally went limp, and I set it down quietly. I took the guard's sword belt, his canteen of water and some food he had with him. I considered taking his armor as well, to disguise myself, but that would have made too much noise. I then hid the body as best I could and began making my way towards the edge of the camp, where I had seen them tie up the horses.

Along the way, something caught my eye on a refuse pile in the moonlight, and despite the risk, I went to investigate. When I got near, I saw that I had been right and found my journal, as well as all my promissory notes. The journal was mostly intact, but a lot of the notes had been soaked in the juices of whatever rotten food had been thrown there and only one was still usable. Of the two, my journal is the most precious as it has helped me keep my sanity over the past months, and I am very glad to have it with me now. After recovering it, I continued towards where the horses were being kept, and found all the guards sitting around a small campfire. This unexpected bit of luck allowed me to move more freely and I was able to find some reins, though a saddle would have been to cumbersome for me to quietly carry.

As I was putting the reins on a horse near the edge of the herd, the animal became distressed and began making noise, disturbing the other horses as well. I knew then that the time for subtlety had passed and I climbed quickly onto the horse and rode off. The guards took notice of all the commotion and before I had gotten very far several of them were riding after me while others were shooting arrows in my direction. They followed me for a while, but gave up sooner that I had expected. Yet despite this I continued to urge my mount on, riding hard until the horse tired and stopped responding to my commands. After that I rode at a much gentler pace, wondering why they had given up so quickly and hoping that I was now safe. My questions were answered and my hopes were dashed when the sun finally rose and I saw that I was somewhere in the deep desert. All that time I had thought that we had kept to the road along the mountains, but exhausted as I was I had not noticed when we left that route. It was then that I understood why they had not chased after me: they didn't have to. The desert would kill me as surely as any blade.

The Badawi Desert, as inhospitable today as it was in Valerian's time​

That was the first time when the panic took hold, but having little choice I pressed on. Out of sheer luck, two days into my travels I found a small oasis. It was nothing more than a small pool of water with some shrubs growing around it, but both me and my mount welcomed it. I spent the rest of the day and the night resting there and even considered waiting there in the hopes a caravan would pass by. But I decided to move on, both out of a lack of food and because of the fear that Emir Muhnir's army might pass by.

I rode westward, hoping to reach the coast, but now that the horse has died I don't know if I'll make it. Riding in the heat of the day was exhausting, but at night I had no way to know which way I'm going. At least during the day I could use the sun to guide me.

I've calmed down a little now. The panic is gone but I still don't know how I'm going to get out of this desert. All I know is that if I stay here I'll die for sure. I still have some water left and if I keep going, maybe I can find another oasis. That's the only hope I have left at this point.

---

And as a treat, Valerian's most recent stats

Also, please, don't be shy, comments help keep me going .

 

[Nikolai II]

What a cliffhanger

I'd have expected Valerian to be hunted longer though - just to reclaim the expensive horse, and to bring him to "justice". But if it is well-known as a part of the desert where it is easy to get lost.. or full of ghosts.. then that'd explain it. Nothing Valerian needs to know about anyway.

Still nice. Takes a while to read through, though

 

[cezar87]

Sorry about the delay again. I keep hoping to post a new update every week, but things just keep popping up and a find I don't have time to write.

This update takes place completely outside the game and it's the first of six such updates. I hope you'll like it

What a cliffhanger

I'd have expected Valerian to be hunted longer though - just to reclaim the expensive horse, and to bring him to "justice". But if it is well-known as a part of the desert where it is easy to get lost.. or full of ghosts.. then that'd explain it. Nothing Valerian needs to know about anyway.

Still nice. Takes a while to read through, though

Now that you mention it I guess I did let him escape to easily. I'll have to be more careful about that in the future.

Ever since Chapter I I've been saying to myself "this chapter is definitely going to come out shorter than the last" each time I've started writing. But each one actually came out longer than the last . This time, it really is shorter

---

Chapter VI – The Caravaneer​

April 3rd 1258, Mit Nun Oasis

It's been some time since I was last able to write in my journal, and traveling with the caravan has been quite an adventure so far. I should start at the beginning though. Too many thoughts are competing for my attention right now.

After writing my last entry I continued walking West through the desert, using the scorching sun as my guide. After an exhausting day of walking I tried to rest a bit, then decided to try and travel by night instead, going in the same direction as I had done during the day. This proved to be a mistake however, since by sunrise I found that I had actually started heading South instead of West. So I found myself forced to travel by day. Three days after my horse died, my water also ran out and there was no sign of an oasis anywhere. Out of desperation I filled my canteen with my own urine and tried to drink that, but all it did was to make me vomit. I dropped the useless canteen, keeping only my journal and the sword, then continued on, felling worse with each step I took.

I'm not really sure how long I kept on walking from that point onwards. It may have been a week or it may have been only a day. I felt groggy, my head hurt all the time and I felt nauseous. Towards the end, whenever that was, I remember seeing the unmistakeable sight of water reflecting the light of the sun somewhere in the distance. Full of hope I used every ounce of strength I had left and hurried towards what I thought was a large oasis. But despite my best efforts, it seemed that the water was moving away from me just as fast as I was moving towards it, until finally it simply vanished completely, leaving only the barren desert before me. I collapsed there in the sand and I wanted to cry, but found that I had no tears. The last thing I remember was the darkness closing in and how I finally embraced it, hoping that I could at least die peacefully in my sleep.

I don't know how long I lay there, waiting for death to take me, but at one point I was found and rescued by a passing merchant caravan. I was told later that when they found me I was unconscious and barley alive. Some thought that I wouldn't make it through the night, but they took me in anyway and somehow forced me to drink some water. For six days I drifted in and out of consciousness, I was told, but all I remember are fevered nightmares. They told me that more than once I woke the entire camp with incoherent screams in a strange tongue, and that made a few of the more superstitious people fear I was some sort of sorcerer. In truth I probably just spoke in my native language, but even now after explaining that I am a foreigner there are some that look at me with fear.

When I finally woke up I was very confused. I had been so certain I would die that waking up in a tent took me by surprise. For a while I feared that Emir Muhnir's men had somehow recaptured me and I tried to get up and flee while I still could. But I soon found that I was just too weak to do so, and I collapsed back onto the bedroll. Then I tried to call out for help, but my throat was so parched and sore that all I could produce was a barely audible wheeze. Still, there had been someone close enough to hear me and when the man saw that I was awake he quickly went to tell others. Again, I feared that he had left to tell the Emir, but all I could do was to await my fate. Instead of the Emir the same man returned along with a woman, and they brought with them a large pitcher of water and some food. I drank the water greedily, almost in one gulp, spilling quite a bit of it on myself as I did so and then began eating. Almost instantly I felt how my strength returned to me. After I had finished I asked my hosts where I was, and they told me of the rescue.

I was left alone to sleep, but my hosts returned early in the morning with more food and water, for which I was quite grateful, then asked if I was well enough to walk. I tried to get up, but I was still quite weak and I needed help to do so, and once on my feet I found that I was still a bit shaky. Still, at least I could stand and the man, whom I had deduced was a guard, told me that I would have to travel on a camel until I could walk on my own.

So I left the tent for the first time in a week, leaning on a long wooden staff to help keep me upright and I was led towards a group of camels that were being loaded up with cargo. Now, I had seen camels before, during the raids with Count Falsevor, but I had always kept my distance from these strange beasts and I was quite wary of climbing onto the back of one. But my only other choice was walking, so with the help of the camel driver I tried to climb onto the animal.

While most of Calradia used mules or ox-drawn carts to carry goods at the time, the people of the Badawi Dessert preferred the Camel. This hardy animal was well adapted to the harsh climate and used up much less precious water than a mule.​

My first attempt proved to be quite embarrassing. Weakened from my time in the desert, I slipped and accidentally kicked the camel in the side as I slid down. The startled animal quickly turned its head towards me and spit something foul-smelling into my chest as it got up to its feet. This provoked a wave of laughter among those nearby, and the driver (laughing hard even as he tried to soothe the animal) told me that I was now covered in camel vomit. After cleaning myself up as best I could (though there was nothing I could do for the stench) I made a second, more careful attempt. This time I succeeded and sat down on top of the animal's hump.

After all the camel's had been loaded the drivers tied several of them together in a single file, with the lead animal controlled by a rope held by the driver. Each driver controlled two such files of camels. On a command all the camels in the file got up onto their feet and I yelled out in surprise, provoking yet more laughter. After this the journey began.

It was slow going compared to what I had become accustomed to in the army, but even this was tiring for me. Fortunately I had plenty of water and I had my head wrapped in a turban like the Sarranids, to protect myself from the harsh sun. We traveled for five days until the first inhabited oasis, stopping each night to rest. I always felt exhausted, and even fainted twice on the first day. But each morning I felt stronger and more refreshed than the day before, and by the time we reached the oasis I could move around without a walking stick.

The stopover at the oasis lasted a few days. On the second day, in the evening, I was told that the head of the caravan (a merchant by the name of Muhtar) wanted to speak to me. I had expected this and I was actually quite surprised that it had taken this long. I was brought to his tent, where the merchant invited me to sit and drink some tea with him. He was a large man in his mid-thirties, but fat rather that muscular like King Graveth. He was dressed in a fine blue silk robe, decorated with floral patterns that seemed to be woven from gold. His tent was also larger than the others and lavishly decorated, a stark contrast to King Graveth's more utilitarian design. It was obvious that this was no ordinary merchant, and his tent was meant to impress all those allowed inside. He sat cross-legged on a cushion on the other side of a low table and he motioned me to do the same.

After I sat down, I thanked him for rescuing me and for the kindness he and his people had shown me. He acknowledged this, but what he told me next took me by surprise. “It is not out of simple kindness that we rescued you” he said. “Here in the desert, leaving a lost man to die is akin to murder and the one who abandons another is considered cursed, as are all those who follow him. If I had left you there I would have faced many problems with the people in my employ, maybe even a revolt, and that would have been bad for business.” He took a sip of tea from his cup then continued speaking. “But now you are no longer in any danger of dying, and I would very much like to know how you came to be here. You are no man of the desert, after all.” THAT question did not surprise me. In fact, I had been expecting it ever since I was told about my rescue and I had spent quite a lot of time preparing a lie. So I told the merchant that I was an exile, that I had come to live in Uxkhal and that I had taken a job as a guard on a Swadian caravan. Then I told him that we had been attacked by bandits during the night, and when it became obvious that we would be overwhelmed I took a horse and fled into the night, only to find myself lost. He listed attentively, but seemed unconvinced and asked “Did you know that there were also Rhodok armies rampaging through the area?” “Yes,” I replied, “we had heard rumors about them, but we also knew that the war had ended for Swadia and our leader felt we would be safe. He also wanted us to finish our trading and return to Uxkhal as soon as possible to see how it had fared after the siege.” He still seemed suspicions of me and asked me more questions about the route the caravan had taken, about the places we had stopped at and what we had traded, about the bandit attack, about why I had a sword of Sarranid make if I lived in Swadia, about the entry I had written in blood and what it meant, and how come a simple guard knew how to write in the first place. I tried as best I could to answer his barrage of questions, but after more than an hour he seemed unconvinced by my answers.

With a growing risk of the conversation leading to something nasty for me, I decided to try and steer it in a different direction. As I was telling him more details about my past, I mentioned some things about the profits the Fair Wind had made while in Calradia. As expected this drew his attention and he began to interrogate me further about the details, which I was more than glad to provide. I started telling him about the sort of goods they usually brought and what was sought after as well as the prices he could expect, how to recognize the ships as well as the city from which they came and also a few words, phrases and gestures that could help him make a good first impression. We continued talking for hours, with Muhtar constantly pressing me for more. Eventually I ran out of information to give him, but by this point the atmosphere in the tent had relaxed considerably and it seemed that he no longer cared who I really was. I took advantage of a pause in our conversation to ask him if his caravan was by chance headed towards Shariz and if it was, whether I could come along. He said that it was indeed headed for that city, but that I would have to pay if I wanted to come along. Since I didn't want to use my only promissory note I tried to convince him to let me come as a guard. It took some time to convince him, but in the end he accepted.

As a guard I was only given some cheap clothes, and the only weapon I had was the sword I had stolen during my escape. Since I had recovered enough of my strength I was also forced to walk from this point on, but I didn't mind too much. The caravan itself was quite large, with about sixty camels, several workers and many guards, some on horseback. In total I think there were about one hundred people. From the other guards I learned that this particular caravan traveled this route twice a year, from Ahmerrad to Shariz in the late winter and back again in the early autumn. It stopped in various towns and oases along the way and took advantage of the many local festivals during those times of the year. The pace Muhtar set for us was hard on most of the others, but for me it was manageable, even after my most recent brush with death. I had been subjected to worse in the army, after all.

Once every couple of days we would arrive at a new settlement, where we would spend a day or two. I was surprised at how many people called the desert home and after some time, the desert began to look a lot less barren than before. Another thing that surprised me was how well the guides knew the desert. For me it all looked the same, but somehow they managed to tell one dune from another and get us safely to our next destination.

Most of the days were uneventful, but not all. While bandits seemed to be discourage by the size of our caravan, Nature did not care at all and the 17th of March I saw my first sandstorm. We had been camped at the edge of an oasis for three days and we were set to leave at noon. It was almost dawn, and since I had been on the night watch that time I was eager for some rest before we left. But as the sun began to rise and I looked around, I saw that the horizon to the West seemed off somehow. As the sun rose and there was more light I realized what was wrong: there was no horizon, just a massive wall of sand, hundreds of meters tall, heading my way. I froze, until one of other guards told me that storms like this were common in the desert, and we then began waking the camp. We rushed about, trying to secure all the tents before the storm hit, but we didn't have enough time. One of the tents was blown away, and even I was almost knocked down by the force of the wind.

It was strange to be in the middle of a sandstorm. I had seen fog before, but this was different, more substantial. The whole world took on a strange yellowish hue, and I couldn't see very far. The sand battered my face and eyes and made it hard to breathe and keep my eyes open, even with my face covered. There was no relief even in the tents since the sand managed to get in everywhere, even in my boots and clothes. When it finally died down, two days later, we found that the camp had been nearly buried in sand and it took a whole day to sort it all out. We also lost a man during the storm. After doing a headcount we noticed that one of the workers was missing. He had probably lost sight of the camp as he was doing his chores and wondered into the dessert by accident. A few riders were sent out to look for him but they had no luck. This event unnerved me since I had been outside on guard duty a few times, and it could have easily happened to me.

After the storm we continued our journey, and it was mostly peaceful. Once some bandits decided to test just how well defended the camp was and tried to sneak in at night, but they were captured soon after entering the camp and Muhtar had them executed as a warning to others. We arrived in the Mit Nun Oasis just two days ago, and we'll be spending almost a week here. It's by far the largest I've seen so far, and with a festival going on I can see why Muhtar wants us to stay for a while.

The Mit Nun Oasis​

One of the more fortunate events (for me at least) was that last night the caravan's scribe fell ill, probably from eating some spoiled food. Since I was the only one in the camp with the necessary training I've now taken on his duties until he gets better. This has at least allowed me to finally write in my journal, and I may even receive some payment as well.

I'm now close to my objective, the port-city of Shariz. From what I understand will take us no more than a week to get there, since this is our last stop. Once I get there I hope I can find a ship that can take me back to the Rhodok Kingdom. Sarranid ships will no doubt be avoiding Rhodok ports, but I hope I can find a neutral ship there. Fortunately I still have my promissory note and even if Muhtar doesn't give me anything it should be enough for me to pay for passage.

It's strange how eager I am to rejoin the army. Before all this I wanted peace, but now I'm itching for more adventures. Even stranger is that I could probably find employment as a scribe for this merchant, but I don't find that as appealing as it would have been two years ago. I would prefer going into battles and risking my life rather than keeping records in a comfortable tent these days. I wonder why? Maybe it has something to do with coming so close to my own death so often. While it has been frightening each time, I think it's also made me feel more alive than ever before. I think that maybe I actually miss that. Now that is a strange thought indeed.

 

[cezar87]

Hello dear readers

Because of both RL concerns and story-related concerns, the next chapter will take a while to write. In RL I've recently found out there is a deadline on the 21st for selecting a coordinator for my dissertation, and I have to focus on that for the moment. Story-wise, the next chapter will be the longest yet, and I want to have it written down completely before I start posting. Because of it's length it will also be split into five separate updates. On the other hand, it will be full of action and adventure, so I think it will be worth the wait

Hopefully I can get to writing it by the end of next week .

Have a great week everybody

 

[Nikolai II]

Nice addition to sneak in real pictures as well.

I'd call it "charity" when a caravan master hires on someone as a guard who just said "I ran away from danger and almost died, so I'm very weak now and of questionable morale"

On the other hand, charity to those found in the desert might well (should) extend until leaving the desert, and Valerian did have some interesting information to share. And "guard" was probably because he didn't have the skills to be a driver. But he probably learned plenty about taking care of camels or preparing food in the desert along the way

 

[cezar87]

Nice addition to sneak in real pictures as well.

I'd call it "charity" when a caravan master hires on someone as a guard who just said "I ran away from danger and almost died, so I'm very weak now and of questionable morale"

On the other hand, charity to those found in the desert might well (should) extend until leaving the desert, and Valerian did have some interesting information to share. And "guard" was probably because he didn't have the skills to be a driver. But he probably learned plenty about taking care of camels or preparing food in the desert along the way

"Charity" is not a word that exists in Muhtar's vocabulary, only "Profit". He had his reasons for getting Valarian out of the dessert, and I plan on mentioning them a little in Chapter VIII .

So here is the next chapter. Just as the one before it, the action will take place outside the game, and hopefully it will expand the world of Mount&Blade a little. It's the longest single chapter I've written until now, so in order to avoid reader fatigue I'll be posting it in five parts. Since they are still part of the same journal entry, however, I'll be posting each of them two days apart in order to maintain the pace of the story. This is why I wanted to have them all done before I started posting . Also, they will be mostly text, unfortunately, but I will try to add as many images as possible.

And now, without further ado...

---

Chapter VII – Waves of memory, Waves of sorrow
Part I – The Flight​

April 13th 1258, on a ship

Ah, the Sea, my one true friend! Years ago, when my world crumbled around me and I was forced to run for my life, it was you who gave me refuge. It has now been over a year since I last heard your soothing song, and I realize now that I have missed it greatly. But mixed with the calm it brings, there is also a disquiet in me, one born from the memories of my past that have begun to wash over me, unbidden and unstoppable, like waves upon a beach. These memories I have tried to bury in the darkest corners of my mind ever since the Fair Wind left for home. With death hounding me almost every day, and the Sergeants the rest of the time, it was not hard. But now I can no longer forget, and it saddens me to remember all that I have lost. There is no running from my past anymore, and the time to face it has come. Keeping this journal has helped me immensely during the past year, and I will need to use it once more if I am to escape this dark melancholy that has begun to settle over me. So I will go back to the night when it all went wrong one last time, and hope that by consigning it all to paper, I will finally cleanse myself of the pain.

It all started three years ago, a week before my graduation from the University of Venira. I had been a student there for four years, studying Literature, Law, Logic, Rhetoric and History. While I had grown to like it in time, at first it had been my father's dream. He had been a soldier for over thirty years and, through his skill, had risen to become the Commander of the Silver Shields, the city guard of Venira. Since that career had given him a small measure of prosperity, he had wanted me to lead a better life than he did, so he sponsored my education. Knowing that I was making him proud by graduating filled me with joy, and on that fateful night, I decided to go out and celebrate.

I had decided to go out drinking with my friends, and we chose to go to a favorite tavern of ours. It was a pleasant early summer's night, and the festive mood in town gave no warning of the tragedy that was about to take place. We had been drinking and laughing and enjoying ourselves for a few hours already by the time I decided to go and get another flagon of ale. As I was returning to our table a large, muscular man dressed in finer clothing that the rest of the patrons bumped into me on purpose, spilling the drink I was holding all over both of us. I was of course angered by this and I demanded that he pay for the lost drink, but to my surprise he instead insisted that I pay for his soiled clothes. A short shouting match ensued, but soon it became clear that he was just looking for a fight when an evil grin appeared on his face, and he lunged at me with his fist.

Now, despite wanting me to become a scholar rather than a soldier, my father had never neglected to teach me how to defend myself. So when I saw him attacking me, I instinctively dodged to the left, and a blow that would have shattered my nose only managed to graze my right ear. Despite being a bit tipsy from the ale I continued the movement and rolled onto my shoulder away from my attacker, then came up on my feet a short distance away with my guard up. This took him by surprise, but he soon recovered and came at me with obvious fury.

In all honesty, he was a terrible fighter. Strong, to be sure, but his movements were uncoordinated and he frequently left himself open to a counter-attack. At first I simply blocked and parried his blows, hitting him back from time to time in the hope that he would realize he was outmatched. But after a few minutes I understood that he would not give up, and afraid that his companions might join him, I decided to put an end to the fight quickly. Eying him carefully I waited for the best opportunity, and when he made the mistake I was looking for I launched my own attack, hitting him in all the sensitive points I knew. Despite making a few mistakes myself, he did not see them and soon he was retreating. Before his friends had a chance to step in, I delivered my coup de grace, a powerful blow to his face that sent him stumbling backwards.

I guess that's all it takes really, to ruin a life. Just a split second in which everything and everyone are exactly where they shouldn't be, when what appears to be the best decision is in fact the worst. And as much as I may wish for things to be different, I know now that in life there is no avoiding such moments. For my attacker, this was represented by a bench that happened to be in his path as he backpedaled. Already unbalanced, he tripped on this bench and fell backwards, striking the corner of a table with his temple as he went down. Once on the ground he did not move, save for a few occasional convulsions.

I'm not sure to this day if what I did next was out of some irrational fear, or if some divine hand had pushed me along, but by the time I came to my senses I was already half way home. Since my memory at that point is all a blur I don't really know how I managed to get out of the tavern without anyone stopping me, but somehow I did and I ran away from there like never before. The most puzzling thing about it is that, while a good decision in retrospect, it made no sense at the time. After all, the man had clearly been looking for a fight and I was the one who had been attacked. I did not want to harm him and I only fought in self-defense, and I had plenty of witnesses for this. On top of that my father, while retired, was well respected by many within the city and I could expect some leniency no matter what, yet still I ran. Even after getting a hold of myself I continued home, shaking, and once in my room I lit a lamp I began pacing, unable to calm down.

Around dawn I noticed the silhouette of a man approaching the house and realized it was Arturo, a close friend that had been with me in the tavern. Before he had a chance to knock and wake my parents I opened the door and invited him up to my room, where he began telling me of what had happened after I left.

As I had feared, the man was dead and for the first time ever I had taken a life. Looking back now, it was only the first of many, but at the time it filled me with sadness and remorse. To my surprise however, this was not the worst of the news Arturo had for me. The man I had killed, it turned out, was the only son of one of the five Magistrates that ruled Venira. He had a reputation as a bully within the city, and he was known to frequent taverns in less prosperous parts of the city where he would start fights against people he knew would not dare to lay a finger on him. To his misfortune, I did not realize who he was at the time, though this news gave his death a sort of poetic justice and helped to ease my guilt. Unfortunately this also meant that justice would not be on my side, and the Magistrate, rumored to be a corrupt man himself, would no doubt look for a way to have me executed. Unsure on how to proceed, I reluctantly went to wake my father and told him all about the events of that night. After listening, he confirmed that I could not rely on the courts to save me and that my only chance was to leave Venira until things calmed down. While the prospect of exile was not appealing, I knew I had no other choice and my father promised me that he would do whatever he could to make sure I could one day come home. With a heavy heart I gathered some things in a bag, took the money my father gave me and set out towards the docks.

By the time I left the house it was morning and the city was already bustling with activity. Afraid of meeting any guards I took a longer route through the many small back-alleys of the city, but as I neared my destination I was forced onto larger streets, and as I had feared I met up with two guards on patrol. I knew them personally, as I did many of the men once under my father's command, and I froze, certain that my escape was over before it had even begun. But instead of arresting me on the spot they walked by, pretending they didn't even know or notice me and I quickly understood what was happening. The order for my arrest had already been issued, but out of respect for my father (and possibly contempt for the Magistrate's son) they were giving me a chance to flee. Determined not to squander their generosity, I hurried towards the docks.

Finding passage on a ship proved to be much harder than I first expected. Since I was so eager to leave the city, I no doubt came off as suspicious and many captains refused to let me come on board. Aware that my time was running out I became more desperate and offered a few of them all the money I had, but this only made things worse.

The eleventh ship I tried to book passage on was commanded by Captain Evanghelos. Just like all the others, he gave me a curious look when I told him I was looking to leave immediately, but surprised me when he agreed and only took a standard fare for the trip. While a little puzzled by his acceptance I was in no position to argue and I went to the cabin I was given, where I remained until the ship finally set sail at noon. Only after I had felt the ship moving did I have the courage to go up to the deck and watch as we left the harbor. I looked back with sadness at the city that had been my home for twenty-one years, little knowing that it would be the last time I would lay eyes upon it.

The city of Venira was one of the most powerful of cities in the region. With it's wealth based mainly on the slave trade, it fought numerous wars with it rival Athiana for influence over the other city-states.​

Once we were out to sea I felt I could finally relax, and despite the sadness I let the gentle rocking of the ship calm me as I began dreaming of my inevitable return home. But just as I was beginning to feel a little better, two burly sailor cam up to me and told me that the Captain wanted to speak with me immediately. Realizing that this was an order and not a request I allowed them to escort me to him.

They remained outside the Captains cabin, and once I was inside he began questioning me about my reasons for leaving in such a hurry. Afraid that he would send me back if he knew the truth I lied to him as best I could, but without success. For half an hour he interrogated me and not once was he satisfied with my answers and in the end he threatened that he would tie me up in the cargo hold and let the guards deal with me once he returned to Venira if I didn't tell him the truth. Backed into a corner as I was I saw no other choice but to tell him everything. Yet as I told him the story of the previous night I saw in his eyes not anger but a growing sense of compassion. By the time I had finished, Captain Evanghelos seemed to be looking through me rather than at me, like he was staring at something off in the distance, and after a long moment of silence he turned his gaze back to me and began telling me the story of how he became a sailor...

 

[cezar87]

Part II – The Captain's tale​

Twenty-eight years ago, the Twelve Cities were in flames, embroiled in the largest war in their history. I knew much about that war, both from my courses at the University and from my father, who served and distinguished himself in that conflict. At the time, Athiana was the most powerful of the Twelve Cities and the Ephor of Athiana had launched a bid to subjugate the other city-states. At first things went well. Two cities were conquered outright and another had chosen to become a vassal rather than resist, all within the first year. Soon, however the others made an alliance with Venira at it head and began turning the tide against Athiana. Outnumbered and with it's armies stretched thin, the conqueror soon faced the prospect of becoming the conquered as the combined forces of it's enemies laid siege to the city's walls. Only it's fleet managed to keep the city from falling completely, winning a spectacular series of victories at sea that managed to keep it's port open. But there were few merchants who wanted to supply the beleaguered city, and those that did asked for exorbitant prices for their goods. Soon, the city was starving and bread riots were a common occurrence.

It was during one such riot that young Evenghelos, then a blacksmith's apprentice, found himself in the market. He had been there that day searching for some food he could afford when an argument between a client and a fisherman turned into a brawl and then a riot. Evanghelos did not want to get involved, but before he could make his way out of the market the guards arrived and began beating and sometimes killing people indiscriminately. When he saw that he could not flee he tried to hide, but even this was not enough and the guard that found him attacked without warning.

Desperate to save himself he did the only thing he could think of and rushed the guard, getting in so close that the spear he was armed with became useless. Evanghelos then began pounding he guard with his fists, using the strength he had acquired as a blacksmith to knock the guard unconscious. Once he saw that the guard was on the ground he again tried to flee from the market and succeeded just as some other guards realized what he had done.

He ran towards home, but as his mind slowly cleared he realized that by defending himself against the guard he had inadvertently signed his own death sentence. A few months previously, when the riots first started, the Ephor had issued a draconian edict that was meant to quell the unrest. It stated that anybody who harmed or insulted a guard in any way was to be put to death without trial. Already, dozens of people had been publicly executed under this new law, but with his life already in jeopardy, Evanghelos had acted without thinking. Knowing that the guards would surely come for him he chose the only option he still had: to somehow flee the city before they found him. He ran to the docks, the only place where he had any chance of finding a means of escape, and was one of the lucky few who managed to do so. In the port he found a foreign grain ship that had recently lost a crewman to a storm, and in exchange for all the money he had he was taken aboard. He spent more than a year sailing from one city to the next, doing the most menial tasks aboard the ship, for no pay and little food. Still, he was glad to be alive and eventually grew to like sense of freedom the open sea gave him.

After finally defeating the Athianan fleet, a few months later, the city was at last cut off from all hope of rescue, and the long siege began taking an even more terrible toll. Yet when it fell, it was not to any invading army, but to a cabal of powerful aristocrats and wealthy merchant-princes. While initially they had supported the Ephor's war, they were now dissatisfied with how it had turned out and how it was eating away at their profits. They launched a bloody palace coup that overthrew the Ephor, installing themselves as the new rulers of Athiana. They made peace with the other city-states, repealed the edict and gave a blanket pardon to all rioters. Finally able to return home, Evanghelos went to the master-blacksmith he had been working for and resumed the life he had before.

But as more time passed, he realized that something had changed inside him while he was away. Every day, after he finished his chores he would go out to the docks and stare out to sea with an ever growing sense of longing. He realized then that he had fallen in love with the sea and that he no longer wished to be a blacksmith. So he gave up his apprenticeship just a few months after regaining it and instead joined the crew of a ship. Over the years he gained more skill and experience, eventually managing to become the captain of his own ship.

When he had seen me in port that day, so desperate to leave the city, he said he saw in my eyes something that reminded him of himself all those years ago. He felt that, like him, I was just a good man running from a terrible injustice. But he needed to be sure that his intuition was correct and he apologized for threatening me the way he did.

Since he had been considering hiring someone to help him in administering the ship, and since I already had the skills needed for that job, he told me that I could stay with him for as long as I needed to. With this, the longest day in my life was finally over and at long last I could truly relax, confident that I now had the refuge I had been searching for. The Captain's tale had also filled me with hope, and more than ever I was confident that one day I would safely return home.

 

[cezar87]

Part III – The Calm​

I spent the next couple of months of my life sailing from city to city, helping Captain Evanghelos by keeping the books aboard the ship, organizing the dock workers to load and unload the cargo and negotiating new contracts. Since it was inevitable that the ship would dock in Venira from time to time, I would always remain behind and wait for the Tradesman's Triumph to return for me. I usually spent my time ashore finding new contracts for Captain Evanghelos and negotiating fees. It was difficult at first, since I had never really prepared for this, but soon enough I got the hang of it and managed to obtain a few very good deals. Since I was already fluent in many of the languages of the Twelve Cities I was often able to make a good first impression, as well as being able to communicate more freely.

The Captain's men did not welcome me at first. While they were good people, they were annoyed by Captain Evanghelos' insistence on picking me up as soon as possible, since this meant rejecting several lucrative contracts. They were loyal to him however, and accepted this situation without too much grumbling, and in turn I tried to compensate for the lost income in every negotiation.

Whenever the Tradesman's Triumph docked in Venira, the Captain would also exchange letters with my father, and I was able to keep in touch with him. Unfortunately the news regarding the Magistrate was never good. While my father had used his connections within the city to try and help me (even meeting with the Magistrate once to try and talk him out of pursuing my execution), it had all been in vain. Despite this I remained hopeful, a hope bolstered by the Captain's own story, and I settled in to my new life. It was a peaceful time in my life and in a way I actually enjoyed the fact that I was doing something different. But inevitably, that calm was shattered once more by the Magistrate's grasping hand.

It happened on what was already a routine day at the docks for me. The Tradesman's Triumph had sailed for Venira a few days before, leaving me behind, and I had spent most of the morning and early afternoon talking to merchants and looking for contracts. It had been a good day for such endeavors and I decided to return to the inn where I was staying earlier than usual. On my way, I decided to take a shortcut I knew through a narrow alley, but when I reached it's end a suspicions looking man stepped forward from around the corner, blocking my path. Aware that I was in danger I turned back the way I came, only to find another man blocking my escape. Before I could say or do anything the man I was facing nodded to the other and they both drew their daggers and attacked.

I was unarmed and outnumbered, but not quite helpless since on the ship I had continued to hone my fighting skills, sparring with the other sailors. For a while we fought, but in the narrow alley they had the advantage, and despite disarming one of my attackers they soon had me pinned to the ground and were preparing to slit my throat. This is one of the first times when my odd mix of fortune and misfortune manifested itself, in this case in the form of an off-duty guard that just happened to walk by. Noticing my predicament he drew his own weapon and joined the fight, drawing away one of my would-be killers in the process. I used this short moment of confusion to free myself, hitting the one that was pinning me down with my knee in the liver and making him wince with pain, then after throwing him off me, I grabbed his dagger which was lying on the ground and drove it straight into his heart before he had a chance to recover.

With the tables now turned, the other assassin tried to flee, only to find himself caught in the same trap I had been in only a few moment earlier. I helped the guard to subdue him, then we took him to the barracks for interrogation, where he was beaten until he finally revealed the reason they had attacked me. It was not, as I had expected, an attempted robbery, but something much darker. The Magistrate, finally accepting that I was beyond the reach of the City Guards, had decided to put an exorbitant bounty on my head, a bounty of ten thousand gold Ducats! It had been posted only recently, but I knew that as soon as the word got out I would be a dead man. Even some of the guards gave me strange looks when they heard about it, so I left the barracks quickly, renting a room at another inn and abandoning all of my other possessions.

I spent the next two days locked in my room, jumping with fear every time someone walked past my door. I only left on the day the Tradesman's Triumph was due to arrive, only to find that it was not in port. I spent an even more restless night in the inn, fearing that something had happened to Captain Evanghelos. I ventured out of my room again the next day, only to be disappointed once more, and again the day after that. Finally, on the forth day the ship arrived, just as I was beginning to think of leaving the city by some other means. To my relief the Captain was fine and the reason for the delay had been a minor accident in the harbor that had forced him to make repairs.

Once safely on board I told him about what happened and he was quite alarmed. The first thing he told me was that the crew must not hear about the bounty, lest they try to collect it themselves. They were all good men, but for such a large sum of money even the best could turn into monsters, he said. We then began discussing what other choices I had, but in the end it all boiled down to this: sooner or later I would be killed unless I fled to some place outside the Magistrate's reach. I could think of no such place, but the Captain had one idea, that I should flee to Calradia, far across the Ocean.

I had heard of this land before, during one of the courses at the University. It was a land on the other side of the Great Ocean, somewhere to the North-East and that the journey was perilous. When I told him this, Captain Evanghelos said that perilous was an understatement, as one in three ships that left for Calradia never returned, and none came back without loosing at least a few men. But if I could get there, he said, I would finally be safe since no assassin would risk such a journey for any amount of gold. His ship was not capable of surviving the journey unfortunately, but he did know of someone who had done it six times before, a friend and mentor of his named Stavros. As far as he knew, Captain Stavros would be leaving again soon from Athiana. Luckily for me our ship had a contract to deliver some cargo there already, and Captain Evanghelos decided that we would head straight for Athiana in order to get there as soon as possible.

Because he had no choice but to fulfill the contracts I had already negotiated there in Carthalla we were still forced to delay our departure by a day, but we at least managed to load it all in record time. We then set out for Athiana, the crew being told that the change of plans was due to the delays suffered in Venira.

 

[cezar87]

Part IV – The Storm​

We traveled to Athiana as quickly as possible, not stopping in any of the ports along the way like we should have done to unload the cargo we had for those destinations. The crew realized something was wrong, but without stopping anywhere there was no chance of the hearing about the bounty on my head. Athiana was the northern-most city among the Twelve Cities, and quite far from Venira, so even after we arrived, there was little chance of the news having reached it so quickly. Once docked, Evanghelos and I left to search for Captain Stavros' ship, the Fair Wind, leaving others to deal with unloading the goods.

The city of Athiana, with it's near monopoly on trade with lands in the Northern hemisphere, was the second center of power in the region known as the Twelve Cities and it often sparred with it rival Venira for influence over the other city-states. Despite being severely weakened in the Fool's War of 1230, it had mostly recovered it's strength by the time of the events mentioned in Valerian's Journals. It's resurgence would set the stage for yet another brutal war in 1262. This war and the famine and plagues that followed would so thoroughly devastate the region that it would take decades for it to recover, thus opening the way for the Second Empire's dominance of overseas trade.​

The ship itself was not hard to find as it dwarfed almost any other vessel in the port. At over sixty meters in length and with three masts, it was one of the largest vessels I had ever seen. These ships, Captain Evanghelos told me, were called Nau and were the only ones that could brave the turbulent waters of the Ocean and still hope to reach their destination. Trade with lands far to the North was one of the sources of Athiana's prosperity, as it was the best place to begin such a journey and so most of the Captains that had experience in reaching Calradia were from this city. Evanghelos himself had thought many times of joining the crews of such ships, but even with his many years of experience he still didn't think he was up to the task. Still, it was tempting to any sailor, as the profits from such an expedition could make any man wealthy.

We found Captain Stavros on board his ship, making all the preparations needed for the long and arduous journey. When the two men met they greeted each other warmly, and for a while reminisced about past exploits and exchanged newer ones. Eventually they got around to the present and to why we had come in the first place. Captain Evanghelos explained my situation and asked Stavros to take me along as a favor to him. He told him of my skills, insisting on my facility with languages, and while reluctant to take me aboard, he accepted and told me to bring my things.

A Nau, the most advanced ship design of it's time. ​

My return to the Tradesman's Triumph filled me with sorrow since I knew this would be the last time I would see it or any of its crew. I can't really describe what I felt, knowing that I would be leaving everything and everyone I had ever known behind forever. It was frightening and depressing all at once, and despite my best efforts, I broke down crying when I began packing. I wrote a long letter to my father, explaining what had happened and why I had to leave for such a far-away land, as well as asking that he forgive me for not being able live up to his expectations and wishing him well. I gave the letter to Captain Evanghelos who promised me that he would make sure it reached my father no matter what, then bid my farewells to him and the crew and left for where the Fair Wind was docked.

The ship was set to leave a week after my arrival, and I had little to do until then but wait, making each day seem like an eternity for me. I dared not go ashore in all that time, fearing that the news of the bounty had reached Athiana and this elicited the suspicion of some of the crew, who realized that I was running from something. Still, everyone was too busy to bother me and when I heard that we would be departing I finally left my cabin in order to see the city one last time. All over the deck there was a flurry of activity, but I was completely oblivious to it, transfixed by the last familiar sight I would ever see. I realized then as the city slowly faded in the distance that I would never see my home ever again, and when Athiana finally faded beyond the horizon, I felt a pang of anguish for everything that I had lost, and again broke down crying, oblivious to the strange looks the crew were giving me. When it finally passed, it was replaced by a sense of panic as I realized that this was the first time ever that I could no longer see the shore. We were out in the open see for the first time in my life and despite knowing that Stavros had done this many times before, I still feared that we would become lost in the featureless expanse of the Ocean.

My fears remained until the evening, when Captain Stavros invited me to dine with him. While he had been very busy since my arrival aboard his ship, now that he had some time he wanted to get to know me and to talk to me about my duties on the journey. We talked about my exile, and the events that led up to it in detail, and he agreed that what was happening to me was unjust, but that this was, unfortunately, the only course of action by which I could survive. He told me that, until we reached Calradia the best thing that I could do was to stay out of everybody's way, since my tasks would only begin after our arrival. He also warned me about the storms that plagued the open ocean and that I should remain below decks at all times during such storms. It was these storms, he said, that made this journey so perilous. Only twice every year, in the late spring and early autumn was it relatively safe to travel the Ocean, and that it would take two to three months before we would see land again. This unsettled me, and I mentioned my earlier fears to the Captain, but he brushed them aside quickly, stating that the instruments he possessed made seeing the land irrelevant.

About two weeks into the journey, we encountered our first storm, and it was indeed the largest and most violent storm I had ever faced on land or at sea. The ship was battered constantly by powerful waves, and the violent rocking of the ship made me feel sick. While lasting only a day, it made me think I understood why it was so dangerous to be out there. I mentioned this to the Captain and some of the crew, but actually provoked them to laughter with my words. They told me that this was a normal storm, and that it was nothing compared to the real killers out there, the hurricanes. Those storms had winds that could rip a ship's mast off with one gust and make waves that could swallow a ship whole. This scared me greatly, and it probably showed as a new wave of laughter erupted.

Surely enough, in the fifth week of our journey, the Captain gave an order for all passengers to remain below decks, just as some of the blackest clouds I had ever seen appeared on the horizon. When it finally hit, a few hours later, I felt the force of the wind and waves even through the solid wooden hull of the ship. It lasted for over five days without relenting, and each time a wave hit, the ship lurched dangerously to one side, almost capsizing from the feel of it. The fact that it managed to stay afloat at all in such weather was a testament to the skill of the shipwrights who built her. The sea-sickness was worse that ever before, and I struggled to keep my food down for two days before I finally gave up eating altogether.

On the fourth day of the storm, driven on by my curiosity, I decided to venture out onto the deck and see the storm with my own eyes. While it was supposed to be the middle of the afternoon, when I got out onto the deck, it was so dark it felt more like nighttime and the scene that I witnessed reminded me more of tales about the Underworld than the open sea I had seen before retreating to my cabin. The wind was howling and the rain was lashing at my face painfully. I struggled to see anything with all the water in my eyes and the only true light out there came from the lightning that flashed almost constantly, always followed by deafening thunderclaps. In these brief flashes I could see the chaotic scene of the crew as they rushed about, trying to keep the ship afloat. As I was staring in awe at all that was before me, a massive wave struck, making the ship lurch dangerously to port, and the sailors all around grabbed at anything to keep from going overboard. I did not have their reflexes and I soon found myself sliding down towards the churning sea. Again I proved to be fortunate, and another sailor who was clutching a rope managed to get a hold of me as I slid past, holding me with one hand until the ship righted itself. Once we were both on our feet he screamed at me to return below deck or he would throw me overboard himself. I complied, too frightened to say anything, and remained in my cabin until the storm finally ended.

After the storm's passing, I once again went out to the deck to survey the damage, and what I saw shocked me. Several of the sails had been torn to sherds by the wind, and one of the masts had been broken in half. The crew were doing their best to repair the ship and I was relieved to find out that it carried many spare sails and two spare masts just in case this happened. Still, we were adrift for two days before all the damage had been fixed, and I was saddened to find out that six crewmen had been lost to the sea. This revelation also reminded me of my own brush with death and sent a chill down my spine.

The journey continued after this uneventfully for two weeks, until yet another tragedy struck us. Other that the hurricanes, the other great danger in the open ocean was the threat of being becalmed. These periods could last anywhere from a few days to weeks, and we found ourselves in just such a predicament. While we had ample supplies of food for the journey, the water could only last so long, and as soon as we all realized what was happening the atmosphere on the ship became tense. For the first few days it was tolerable, but as time passed and the wind did not pick up, fear and frustration built up more and more among the crew. After almost three weeks of being becalmed, some of the sailors (generally a more superstitious group than most people) turned their ire towards me. They had realized from the start that I was fleeing some sort of punishment and claimed that our situation was in fact a divine punishment for taking on a fugitive. They said that the only way to save the ship was to throw me overboard as penitence for helping a criminal. It took great effort for Captain Stavros to dissuade them from doing this and I locked myself in the cabin out of fear. Just as it seemed he would lose the battle, the wind picked up once more three days later, followed shortly by yet another storm. Fortunately this was not as violent as the one before and it only lasted two days. No one died this time and I fear that had someone fallen overboard again I would likely have been next.

It took some time for my already shaken nerves to calm down, but the rest of the journey was relatively peaceful. We did face four more storms along the way, but no hurricanes, and after more than three months of traveling we finally caught sight of land. It was a relief for me to see something solid on the horizon once more, and after a few more days we docked for the first time in Calradia, in the port of Shariz.