Trials of A Servant
Tome One
Tome One
Thunder echoed in the Vante, one not of nature but of men. A long line consisting of Wilders marched with their numbers gradually swelling as new tribes merged from the adjacent fjords, hills, and valleys that connected to the Vante pass. They were marching west where they would eventually begin the latest campaign in the Wilds. Leading them was High Chief Enir Tudonii.
The Chief scanned the horizon and grey peaks of the Ordivante mountains with his equally colored eyes. The smell of sweat and kicked up dirt lingered in the air as a fog. The clip clopping of his riding mare added to the cacophony of his army. It was early morning so the cold air he breathed kept him awake. Invigorating the chieftain, he tugged on a wool cloak with numb fingers to keep his torso warm until the sun was higher in the sky.
Contrasting the chieftain a fully white stallion rode through the ranks of wilders marching on foot through the all but barren wasteland. His flowing platinum hair and silver circlet adorned on his head identified him as none other than Aeron Turaylon, Master Guardsmen of Coal, and Champion of Queen Nienna of Galadriel. His armor was made by the finest craftsmen in the Kingdom, and it shone brightly compared to the Chief’s drab cloak. Although it must be freezing inside, his mithril coat of mail kept him relatively warm, and although he must have worn something underneath, he was not disposed to reveal anything about his character, even his fashion wear. “King Einir, we have been travelling for three days without making much of a camp at all. How long do you expect to stretch your men over a mere march?” He wasn’t privy to all of the Chief’s plans, but he had liked to make his mind known once it became obvious.
Einir furrowed his brow at the mention of the title King. Looking off to their south at a quaint fjord he elaborated. “In a few hours we should reach Dyfheim. It is one of the few ports that exists on the shattered banks to our north. There the army will be resupplied with men, an abundance of supplies, and equipment.” He exhaled with a wide mouth into his hands and rubbed them for an instant. “It will also heat up considerably from the passing of time, and lowering of altitude.”
“If you are insinuating I consider a more comfortable choice of garb I assure you, I will not fail my Queen on this mission. That means being prepared at all times.” He answered quickly, his voice was sharp and fast. The Knight peered at Einir from across his horse. “How old did you say you were, your highness? Eighteen? Your face is far too worn for a man of your stature and youth. Do you perhaps think your ventures tax you?” They were speaking privately, of course, usually Aeron did not probe him but the journey had been tenuous at best.
“Do I still look that young?” Einir gave a wry smirk. “You are close I am nine and ten summers old. The journey might be a strain, but we will get more rest once we leave this pass. I know I have yet to give fuller insight into my plans as a champion deserves to know, but we are pressed for time.” A beam of light crested a mountain plateau and caressed his face, and made Aeron’s armor gleam furiously.
Respectfully, the elf stopped him with a hand. “You need not entertain me, trust in me that I believe your cause is just. A leader must have foresight, knowledge of his men’s farthest lengths, and loyalty to his cause. I was told your father knew these traits well.” He bowed his head and remained quiet for some time before quipping back. “So still a babe then?” He laughed.
This caught by the Wilder by surprise before he joined in with a hearty laugh. “Your bluntness will let you fit in well. I am green true… Raiding and beheading conspirators, that is nothing compared to the coming months, years if the campaign goes poorly.” Such a prospect wasn’t a pleasing thought to either of them.
Prospecting his future in this bleak land made Aeron grow grim, but his face was one of deep thought. “I hope my stand-in can protect the Queen with all his fortitude. If what you say true, then I shall assist you in any way possible. Don’t take this the wrong way, I prefer the battlefield to court, but being away from my home, my Queen... Well let’s just say one day you’ll understand.” He pat him, before thinking how that came off. “I did not mean that in.. Any affectionate way. I just deeply care for her.” He tried to set the record straight, Nienna was like an enigma to him still, but he absolutely didn’t hold any hopeful romances.
“Hmm. . .” Einir glanced over to Aeron when he stumbled in his usually undeterred speech but thought against broaching the subject. The chieftain stroked the mane of his horse, making it snort in acknowledgment. “Normally for Wilders the champion represents the honor of the tribe, and in uncommon cases becomes what you would call a marshal. Now I don’t expect you to be my champion until death, but I sent one of my best to Nienna. Just like I am certain she sent to me.” The chieftain stroked his horse’s reins with a thumb lazily while he thought. “I am curious as to your war experience, practical or theoretical.”
Einir’s words made Aeron smile inside himself as he wondered what his role was. He didn’t often think about what he was worth, but the representation of elvenkind was an enticing thought.. Nevertheless he looked back at the Chieftain with his turquoise eyes, unique to the inner chasm. “I’ve been fighting nords since I was a pup. Brigands, rebellions, an odd orc or five.. You name it, I’ve done it, running a city is hard work, protecting a kingdom is even more difficult. Now I don’t mean to be boastful, but in combat I am very proficient. General tactics less so, and grand strategy.. Well I don’t think I could have won the dark war.” He smirked and shrugged. “I’ve been working to improve myself. Always.”
“A good attitude. I hope I do not frustrate you with my tactics as they may differ from what you learned. I hear from Neinna and old stories of the war that elves can be very disciplined. My people. . .” Einir twisted in his saddle to the large body of men, in varying attire with equally varied weaponry, before looking back toward Aeron. “We are of a different cloth. That has been one of the hardest things when planning for the campaign, organization and coordination.”
He had reflected this often and nodded with understanding. “Yes, King Einir, I see that is a problem your people must overcome. The elves ourselves were low in number, and disunited during the Dark Wars. My father tells me that we had just came out of centuries of oppression and enslavement. Whatever task is ahead of you, whatever opportunity seems too risky, and especially if anything seems too great a task.. The best advice I can give you, is to implore you to go beyond all odds. To rough it through the bad and vanquish any foe you come across in vigor. It may seem impossible, but then again, they don’t remember the safe generals.” He tipped off two of his fingers to the Chief, saluting him off his circlet.
Reflexively Einir thumped his chest with a fist, almost grunting a nod in unison. Then he looked off with worry in his grey eyes, before shaking his head. “Not bad advice at all. I have many odds to deal with, eventually.”
Gradually but surely the sun rose higher and higher into the sky. The army though missed its deadline and was forced to camp before reaching Dyfheim. It could still be seen in the distance, a long sandy beach with a man made hill raised above it all with a large town built on top. The whole settlement surrounded by pines and other coniferous trees.
As Einir walked around the camp, waiting for men to raise his tent he cursed. “By the ancestors. . . oh well we’re still close we just will have to make up time once we hit the Locllain lands further west.”
Through the business of the tired men wishing to sleep, but all the provisions being set before camp is ready, Aeron somehow found the chieftain. He brought none of his personal guard, to ensure he wouldn’t take any more resources from the queen then he had too. “Ah, I had thought you would be upset. I was going to suggest to you that you only bring a few battalions to Dyfheim. It would provide you with more time, and when we return to the camp with the reinforcements, we can have a staging point and your army can be off in mere hours… Instead of wasting time within the town, your army milling about.”
“You make a good point champion.” Einir seemed pleased by this idea. “I’ll talk to some of my other commanders soon about it. We will need to keep moving, especially since once we pass there,” he pointed at Dyfheim off in the distance, “we leave Ordivantes proper. There is an adequate amount of more land to the west of here I own but those tribes are far more recent additions. Willing, but recent. The Locllain are nearby so they won’t be an issue, the bronzemen are another story.” Einir had a pensive look on his face as light from a nearby fire pit caused shadows to dance along his face. More mumbling to himself than Aenor “hopefully Narien is well. . .”
Aeron looked at the expanse between them and the hillfort. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Einir, more focused on looking stoic, before he said. “Is there anything I should worry about as we enter this.. Settlement? You mentioned not all your people would take kindly to an elf, especially as we grew further west. I just wondered if I had to worry about any sorry drunkards speaking to me crossedly.” He wasn’t fond of beating off hooligans, but every now and then, a lesson had to be made, and this army was ripe to see what the elf could do.
“You are welcome to beat those that insult you champion. No I more meant something I never fully explained to Nienna in correspondence.” The young chief considered the wording. “When this land was raped by the dark forces there was a scattering. Many tribes mixed and mingled, some fled east gaining help of the elves, most had to flee west. So those closer to Galadriel received help from elves, while those further dealt with the dark elves of the enemy. Not to mention some of the tribes have a long history fighting dark elves of the ashlands. They might not be. . . wise enough to make the distinction between you and one of them.”
The elf considered this and smiled flashing his hair with a flick of his wrist.“They will soon learn the difference between a purebred and a mongrel, then. What does this have to do what you muttered early? Something about a… Near end?” He tilted his head and looked directly at the chieftain. It was obvious he heard, but he wanted to hear directly what it was.
“Oh I was just mumbling about a very dear friend who rushed off to start her own tribe, or banner whatever you easterners call it.” He gave mute chuckle “Narien you are always so enthusiastic.”
He raised an eyebrow, remaining silent. “Ah. I see. I would call it a band myself..” He shrugged and tried to nonchalantly walk away, but there was a burning within those eyes of his, like a roaring tide. He was very interested. “Wear a hood, King Einir, I feel the rain coming tomorrow..” It was a poetic way of saying something prophetic, but the chieftain wasn’t versed in elven poetry, it likely made a crude translation.
