Emerald, p.14
Emerald, page 14
Karria had learned this lesson firsthand when Sylvester had insisted she spare Eletha’s life. She would never make the mistake of leaving an enemy alive after that. There was no room for mercy with these types of things.
Kya stayed silent for a long moment before reaching out and taking the dagger in a trembling hand. Zundy’s screams turned to whimpers as he saw the girl looming over him, clutching the dagger in a white-knuckled grip. Then, he began to beg.
“Please don’t kill me. I didn’t mean no harm, I swear! It was all the boss. He made us do it. We never wanted to come here. Please, just let me live!”
Kya hesitated once again. She could feel the man’s pain, terror, and absolute certainty that he was about to die. She stood there for a long moment, her hand shaking as it clutched the dagger. Then, her shoulders slumped.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered, lowering the dagger.
Zundy’s look of terror transformed into one of hope, his face, beaded with perspiration and pale from blood loss and pain, relaxing somewhat. Then, Kya felt her friend shift on her back before a ball of magic slammed into his face. Kya gagged as bits of brain matter and fragments of bone splashed against her leggings.
“No…mercy,” Karria whispered, then slumped against her in a dead faint.
She did not, however, find any comfort in the darkness of unconsciousness, instead finding herself standing above the burning elven capital. Soldiers marched through the streets, rounding up any remaining citizens and dragging them toward the city square, the only place that was yet undamaged.
Thousands lay dead, the streets filled with blood, viscera, and various bodily fluids. The cries of pain and agony had faded by now, reduced to a low whimpering. Karria ran through the air, following the soldiers until she reached the city square.
It was packed, thousands of soldiers surrounding the remaining civilians as they crowded around a raised dais. Upon that dais stood the silver-eyed man, flanked on either side by two rows of what were obviously nobles. She could make out the silvery-blond haired elf woman near the back, standing with her back straight and a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
Karria was extremely confused as to what was going on. Why were these elves siding with humans against their own kind, and for what end? Why was this brutal and horrific attack carried out in the first place? She didn’t have to wait long for her answer.
Two figures were dragged, kicking and fighting onto the platform, and Karria gasped as Alvine and Blyss were thrown at the man’s feet. They were both bloodied and bruised, their fine clothing torn and tattered, and the crowns which had once sat proudly upon their brows were now absent.
“The great king and queen of the elves,” the man said, his lips pulling up into a smirk under his hood.
Karria felt the same chill run down her spine as he spoke, and the crowd gathered before the stage immediately hushed their whimpering. This man, it seemed, had this effect on everyone, not just her. When neither Alvine nor Blyss responded, the man’s smile simply grew wider.
“It is fitting that the two of you end up here, on your knees where you belong!” he whirled, facing the crowd and spreading his arms wide.
“Your so-called king and queen have ruled for the last several decades without thought of anyone but themselves. Their rule of law was absolute and unquestionable. They imprisoned whomever they pleased, ripping families apart and breaking the very laws which they themselves made. Seeing the hypocrisy of their rule, several concerned nobles approached me with pleas to return and take the throne, as it was rightfully mine to begin with!”
The crowd remained silent at this proclamation, and the man’s grin diminished somewhat.
“I see that you do not understand. Allow me to show you, then, that my claim to the throne is quite legitimate and unquestionable.”
The man then reached up and pulled back his hood, finally revealing his features for all to see. Karria gasped as not the features of a human, but those of an elf were revealed. The elf had long black hair, a pinched smirking face and the slanted brows and pointed ears of their kind. She didn’t recognize him at all, though the collective gasp of the crowd told her they did.
“How could you do this, and to your own people?”
The elf turned, smirking down at Alvine, who was staring up at him in shock and disbelief.
“That is quite simple, little brother,” the elf replied.
Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice so that Karria could no longer hear what he was saying. It was enough of a shock that this elf was the king’s own brother. But it seemed the surprises weren’t over for the evening.
Alvine let out another cry, dropping to all fours and staring down at the ground as his brother turned away, a nasty smirk plastered across his face. He spread his arms wide once again as the king began sobbing behind him, Blyss trying to console her husband and glaring up at the man who’d murdered thousands of her soldiers and citizens.
“The elves have been taking a back seat for far too long!” he continued, “all but disappearing from the world at large. In that time, a human king has managed to overthrow most of the continent, subjugating those of the other races and conscripting them to his service. Well, I say no more! We are no one’s servants, especially those of a filthy human. But do not make the mistake of thinking of us as liberators,” he continued.
“We are a proud and ancient race, one that will not bow to others. So, it is time to go to war. Not to free the other races but to ensure our own future as the rulers of Laedrin. We will no longer be overlooked. The time of an elven rule is at hand!”
All of the soldiers surrounding the square lifted their weapons to the sky, roaring their agreement, while the citizens simply huddled closer together, looking fearful.
And all Karria could do was look on in horror as one of the nobles approached and placed a crown on the elf’s head. Silver had warned her that a war was coming. A war the likes of which this world had not seen in thousands of years. And it seemed like this was merely the beginning.
17
Arbor sat on his Yakdaw’s back, rubbing his palms together and breathing into them to warm his hands. It was quite cold out, probably in the single digits, judging by the way his lungs burned as bitter air entered them.
“How much longer are we going to have to sit here?” he asked Shukle, tucking his hands into his armpits once again.
“Just have some patience, Sir,” Shukle answered, though he sounded equally as miserable. “She’s only been gone for about an hour. She should be back soon with a report.”
Arbor turned to Hord, who was sitting on the frozen ground nearby and tinkering with some scraps of metal and pieces from the mythic bear they’d killed.
“How are you not cold?” he grumbled, watching as the dwarf worked, his sleeves rolled up and not seeming to mind the biting cold in the slightest.
“Oh, that’s easy, lad,” he replied distractedly.
“Enlighten me,” Arbor deadpanned.
Hord looked up, flashing him a toothy grin, his trimmed red bear coated in frost.
“It’s because I’m not a wee ninny!”
Arbor snorted out a laugh, wincing as the icy cold air entered his lungs in a rush. In all honesty, the cold wasn’t bothering him as much as it used to. His magic had enhanced his body to be able to withstand quite a bit of punishment, and a side effect of that seemed to be increased resistance to extreme temperatures.
But he was bored. He was still resting from that big fight a few days back and didn’t like to channel his magic for more than a few hours a day. So, to distract himself, he turned his eyes to the towering city walls in the distance.
Fivora was so close, yet seemed so far away at the same time. Karria could be in there right now, but he had to sit here waiting for the scouts to return with their reports. They’d sent a total of four into the city. And though it was risky for gremlins to go in alone, they were confident enough not to be seen or caught.
Two of them were hunting for information on Ramson and his men, while the others were scouting out the guard force in the city to see if an attack was viable. The scouts looking into Ramson were expected to take some time, but the ones looking over the enemy forces were another matter. They should have returned by now and the longer they took, the more he worried.
“Sitting there and fidgeting won’t do you any good. How about you get off your furry mount and help. Or better yet, go do some training.”
Arbor ignored the boisterous dwarf, keeping his eyes locked on the city walls. They were tall, perhaps fifteen yards in height, and made of shining white stone that glittered in the sunlight. He could see a massive line of wagons and carts stretching from the many gates into the city, and more than half were loaded with slaves.
The sight alone made him sick. How could the king sanction the sale of people like animals? It was true that he’d lived his entire life in isolation, but he still felt that he should have heard of something like this. He’d had no idea that slavery had become so rampant in Laedrin, especially when people were being sold in such numbers.
He simply could not understand how this was even supposed to work. The simple act of catching someone and putting them in a cage automatically made them your property? That just couldn’t be right. If that were the case, then anyone who was down on their luck could simply grab one of their neighbors and drag him here to sell. There had to be more to it than met the eye.
Just then, he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his vision. He quickly turned and saw the two scouts coming over the small rise in the hill, approaching at a leisurely pace. That was smart, as those who didn’t look guilty were rarely chased. Arbor remained where he was, waiting until the scouts stopped before him and Shukle, and saluted.
“Report,” Arbor said.
“Yes, sir!” a female with choppy white hair and black eyes said. “We infiltrated the city as instructed and took stock of the military situation. We do not know why, but our initial estimates of between five and ten thousand soldiers were off by a wide margin.”
“How wide?” he asked, feeling a knot of dread start to form in the pit of his stomach.
“We estimate that there are no fewer than twenty thousand stationed here, with reports of another twenty on the way.”
“Why so many?” Shukle asked, seeing the stunned look on Arbor’s face.
“We cannot be entirely certain, as the soldiers were quite secretive,” she said hesitantly. “There is a large mix of gremlin and human soldiers, so we were able to move around without issue. From what we could gather, someone important is coming to Fivora. That was all we were able to ascertain.”
Arbor nodded, his gaze taking on a faraway look as he began to think. Forty thousand soldiers would crush his force with no effort at all. It seemed that they’d come here at a bad time, though he couldn’t fathom as to who would require such protection other than the king himself. However, if the king was coming here, he felt that there would have been more fanfare.
That meant that someone of nobility was coming—someone with enough clout to require such a large armed force to be in the city.
“We’ll wait for the others to report back,” he decided. “I’m sure they’ll be able to gather more intel. In the meantime, head back to the main camp and report to Frunk. Then tell him I want him out here in person. Grab will watch over the camp while he is away and make sure to tell them to cease their approach.”
The two scouts saluted, before moving to their mounts. He felt a bit bad for sending them directly back without a break. But this was important. It would take them three full days to reach the main force if they had good weather, which meant it would take Frunk nearly a week to arrive here.
They were already pressed for time, and they needed to find a more permanent shelter. The cold would last for several weeks more and tents would not be enough to keep them going for much longer. And the longer they waited to attack, the weaker his force would become. He sighed, dismounting and reaching for the tent.
He’d been hoping to avoid setting up camp, but it seemed he now had little choice. They were in a part of the woods that was relatively well concealed, so he wasn’t worried about being spotted. And even if he was spotted, he had no reason to believe that anyone would bother him overmuch. He was just a regular man with a few gremlin companions, nothing to see here.
Shukle helped him pitch the tent, layering it with furs to keep out as much of the cold as they could. Then, they highjacked Hord’s heater, bringing it inside to warm the place up. It took roughly thirty minutes to get everything done, but by the time they were sitting before the heater, Arbor was glad to have done the work. He hadn’t realized how cold he was becoming simply from sitting in one spot.
Now all they had to do was wait for the more detailed report to come in, though it would likely be past nightfall before they returned.
“You fancy getting something to eat?” he asked, holding his hands above the heater.
“Sure,” Shukle replied with a grin. “Though I’m afraid I’ll have to insist Hord do the cooking.”
“What, don’t like my food?” Arbor asked in mock surprise.
“No offense, sir, but I’d rather eat my own foot than any sludge you would concoct.”
It was nearing eight when the two scouts finally returned to camp, and Arbor immediately sat them down and began questioning them. However, the answers they had were not at all what he’d been expecting.
“Are you…sure?” he asked, uncertain of what to do now.
“Yes sir, quite sure,” the scout reported. “The slaver Ramson has not been seen in Fivora in well over a year. We asked around in the seediest places just to be sure. We even went to the slave market and searched for anyone matching your sister’s description, but we came up short there as well. So, we have to conclude that she isn’t here, nor has been at any point since she was taken.”
This was both good and very bad news. Good news, since Karria wasn’t a slave, but bad news since he now had absolutely no idea where to even begin looking for her. Up until now, he’d had a solid lead, the slave city. But now that this had turned out to be a dead end, he had no idea what to do next. Shaking himself, Arbor pushed that to the back of his mind.
There were several other questions he had, and for now, it would give him something else to focus on.
“Did you see anything that might suggest that I’m a wanted criminal?”
He had killed several gremlins in Grend a few months back and had avoided major cities since then. Before entering Fivora, he had to be sure he wasn’t a wanted criminal.
“No, sir, we did not see any sign that you were a wanted man.”
Arbor breathed a sigh of relief at that. At least he wouldn’t have to watch out for soldiers from the human kingdom, though he still hadn’t forgotten the possibility that Ramona and the Defiants would.
“Did you find out why there are so many troops in the city?”
This was the most important question, though, maybe not as important as before. His sister wasn’t here, so he didn’t really have any reason to attack the city. Other than to perhaps free all the poor souls being sold into slavery.
“Yes, actually,” the scout replied, removing a folded-up piece of green parchment and handing it over.
Arbor took it curiously and unfolded it, reading over the scrawling text covering the paper.
Attention Citizens
By decree of his Royal Majesty, King Elith II, the honorable Marquess Sindra has come to Fivora in search of new nobility. After the betrayal of several nobles in the great kingdom of Laedrin, the king has seen fit to grant new titles, specifically that of a Baron to those who are deserving.
There is, of course, a long list of requirements for one to earn such a prestigious title, as well as all the privileges that come along with it. The king will accept only the best and most loyal into his ranks, and those who are unworthy will be denied entry. Below is a list of what one needs to qualify.
Enough wealth to sustain your new Barony
A standing militia of at least 2,500 men at arms
The Mage Classification of Wrecker or above
Any who believe themselves to be worthy can come visit the constructed arena between Layard, the 6th through the 14th. All those chosen by the esteemed Marquess shall then enter into a competition to see who among them is the most worthy.
May the King reign on. Long live his glory!
Arbor set down the piece of paper, more than a little shocked. At least it now made sense as to why there were so many soldiers in the city. A competition like this would draw people from miles around in hopes of gaining a noble title. Unfortunately, the vast majority wouldn’t even meet the standards to compete, let alone the ability to win a title.
But, if someone like a Marquess was coming, it must be serious. A Marquess was the highest noble title one could receive, unless they were a blood relative of the king himself, meaning that this person would be very important. Typically, a Marquess would own massive swaths of land covering an area of over a hundred square miles. Their small town of Woods Clearing had been on the land of just such a Marquess, though his men only ever showed up to collect taxes.
“Sir…” Shukle said, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Yeah, what is it?” he asked, turning to the gremlin, who had taken the paper when he’d finished with it and was perusing over its contents.
“I think we may have a golden opportunity on our hands.”
“How do you mean?” he asked as Shukle put the paper down.
“I mean, this could not have come at a better time. We have just discovered that your sister is not in Fivora, meaning we don’t have much of a plan moving forward. But if you enter into this competition and get a title of nobility, finding her will be much easier!”
