The Domini Sepulchre

[Mors Vigilia]

Prologue

Tulga Plains

Banners still flew, though the wind had quietened from the fierce storm that had appeared so suddenly before, banners of all colours and of all nations. Each one had sent their children to this place. A crack in the clouds allowed the midday sun to spread its light upon the fields, illuminating the glistening blood that had seemingly attempted to hide from it before under the luscious grass of this place. But the grass was dry now, crackling under foot. The previously bountiful earth gratefully accepted the liquid crimson into its depths in a vain attempt to restore the hydrated youth of before. The dead littered the place, lying in heaps where they had been struck down. They seemed to stretch innumerably beyond sight before the red-tinged sky of the horizon. Ravens waited there, in the distance, black specks against the dark sky. Any normal killing ground would be full of them and other beasts of carrion, but this was no normal ground. The ravens would have to wait for they would not come nearer.

Ramer Bevanov stood defiant; the mountain loomed above him as he surveyed these barren lands. A field of battle, some would call it, though a massacre it had been in truth. That was good, Ramer thought, he knew that now. It was meant to be, it had always been. He had expected something else though, anything else, an angelic chorus or the wailing of the Demented, anything other than this eerie silence, interrupted only by the whisper of the wind. His eyes sought out his own banners upon the fields, the green and lilac of his house depicting the tower of Sreffett - which in itself was little more than a pile of rubble far away from this place – and the red and gold banner that he had raised with reluctance this day, his symbol of a wolf cub before a rising sun. Men had named that the banner of hope, the banner of a new dawn and a thousand other ridiculous names that meant nothing to Ramer anymore. A tall man, with a clipped beard and light blonde hair that was already greying at the temples despite the lack of age that showed upon his face and dark azure eyes like polished stones that stared impassively as if they had already seen everything of note, Ramer let his sword slide from his grasp to fall upon the hard earth beside him.

Alisa raised her head as the bloodless sword thudded onto the ground. Good faithful Alisa, pretty Alisa, she had always been at his side. She was on her knees now, clutching onto Ramer’s leg in the centre of these now-barren plains, this wasteland of death. Ramer looked down at her lovingly, smiling as their eyes met.

“It will come soon, Alisa.”

He knew this now. He had come here with uncertainty and trepidation but now it seemed that he knew everything that was. Alisa looked at him in wonderment.

“Eagle’s Bane is dead?”

“He has gone, yes. You no longer need to call him that, he was Chaalan Fay, once.”

Alisa seemed shocked by that. How had Ramer remembered that? Eagle’s Bane – no, Chaalan Fay – had commanded that they forget his previous name, so all had. How could Ramer know of it now? Initially it had been men who had given Eagle’s Bane his name as a sign of strength and victory, a name that he had revelled in and soon all had come to fear. Ramer had been called the wolf and his followers had taken to calling themselves his cubs, though Ramer did not like these names, seeing no wolf-like qualities within himself.

Suddenly, the sky lightened, dark red hues lightening and becoming softer. The whisper of the wind had become a hum and still the sky lightened. Calmly, Ramer reached down and effortlessly pried Alisa’s arm from around his leg. He knew what was to come, just as he knew that everything he had done to lead him to this moment had been right, a necessity. Looking down at Alisa, he smiled warmly before closing his eyes.

“This is right, Alisa. Look away now; this is not for your eyes.”

Alisa did not look away; instead she began to reach out once more to grasp at his leg before the light suddenly grew more intense seemingly focused on Ramer. Recoiling, Alisa scrambled to her feet and took a step back. Her foot went through the man that was lying there, had been lying there, now her foot went through him with no effort as he seemed to disintegrate – as did all the dead before her – into a fine dust that was whipped up by the wind. Eye’s widening in fear and confusion, Alisa whipped around to look at Ramer. He still remained, though he seemed to hover in the air, small shafts of light now emanating from him. His lips seemed to move and the wind brought his words to Alisa.

“Forgive me, Eagle’s Bane. Forgive me.”

And with that, the light around Ramer pulsed. From the heavens it came, blazing through him, a supernatural force that swept through him and spread outwards beyond the plains. It seemed that the brilliant light lasted an age, but that was not how it worked. When it finally faded, all that remained upon the Tulga Plains was Alisa, standing alone in a barren field.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Here's my first attempt at writing something for this sub-forum, I rarely leave the RPG side of the site so I thought I'd try my hand at something else. All praise/criticism will be appreciated, even if it's only spelling or grammatical help. I've got an idea in mind for a story though very little is concrete as of yet so I hope to carry on with an enjoyable story which is fun to both write and read. Enjoy.

[René Artois]

Is nice

[Dead Sun]

As it is just a prologue, there's little I can do to aid with a title. However, this was artistically written with a significant amount of mystery to keep a reader reading. Well done indeed boyo

[Mors Vigilia]

Cheers lads I'm thinking Chapter One'll be up in a few days and I'm already clutching at one idea for a title. True it's difficult for any help on that front at the moment as I'm planning for it to be a bit of a nod and a wink towards the main thing of the story which has yet to reveal itself.

[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter One

Part One

Work for Idle Hands

The late summer sun was passing its zenith as its welcome warmth spread amongst the Queen’s Vale and the small village of Lake’s Rest, beating down upon a young man walking along a path of wooden struts. The summer itself had been late in coming – as it often was in the shadow of Laslo’s Peak – and a slight chill had already begun to present itself these days. Gawan Venedikt pulled his cloak around him, preserving the thin heat and preventing the tendrilous fingers of the low wind to reach at him. He wished that he had worn a thicker shirt this day instead of merely throwing on his cloak before stepping out. Minding his footfall on the struts, Gawan peered towards his destination. Usually more people would be out and about at this hour but on this day the village was at the shrine, paying their respects. Gawan had been tasked to visit the widow Maarin and deliver to her the blessing of the day as her advancing years had finally restricted her movements outside. Catching his boot on an upturned strut, Gawan gasped in shock and then felt foolish that he had done, he should have been paying better attention, these struts were not the newest in the village and could prove a danger. Thinking himself pleased that no one had been around to see his stumble, he caught sight of Master Ragar’s large shaggy dog, Pietr, watching him with his head tilted to one side and a ridiculously long tongue lolling out of its open mouth. Gawan chuckled; the dog always looked such a foolish sight, though he knew it did an impressive job at herding Master Ragar’s sheep for him.

Reaching widow Maarin’s house, Gawan knocked politely and pushed opened the door with a hand. Coming just above the average height of other boys nearing his age in Queen’s Vale, with wide shoulders that spoke of the stature he would grow into, blue eyes and blonde hair that seemed streaked with black in some lights, Gawan was nearing his fifteenth name day, an important day for any in Lake’s Rest. When reaching their fifteenth name day, a boy became a man, and a girl a woman. They were permitted to leave the village alone and able to choose their own tasks for the day. He was eagerly anticipating these new opportunities, already putting plans into place with Harri Galkin – who had already had his fifteenth name day two months previously – to travel to the great city of Vystar, far from Lake’s Rest. Entering widow Maarin’s house, Gawan inhaled deeply as the sweet aromas of a freshly baked cherry pie - cooling in the kitchen – reached him. Maarin was a brilliant baker and it was said that even her week-old biscuits could satisfy the most picky of eaters, though none ever left anything of hers uneaten for that long. As expected she was in the kitchen herself, sitting in a rocking chair that had been recently crafted for her by Dravi, the village carpenter. She smiled at Gawan and halted her rocking, raising her hand for him to take, which he did, going to his knees in the process.

“It is always good to see you, Gawan. You will be a man soon and you will no longer want to come and see old Maarin.”

Gawan smiled warmly, this year whenever the two of them met, Maarin had always said the same thing.

“You know that I will always have time for you, widow Maarin.”

He used the title out of respect for her despite its somewhat negative connotations. In Lake’s Rest it was considered impolite to not include a title unless that person had given you an indication that it could be dropped.

“You are a good boy, Gawan, and you will make a fine man.” She pointed towards the pie on the table. “That is for you and your father, give him my regards, will you?”

Gawan nodded. “I will, thank you, widow Maarin.”

He had expected this, Widow Maarin was very fond of giving gifts and she knew her talent for baking better than anyone else. Thrusting a hand into his pocket, Gawan withdrew the blessing that his father had given him for the Widow. Blessings came in all shapes and sizes, todays being a rough wooden thimble with a small thread of wool tied around it. In giving it to her he offered up the incantation.

“Blessings of Erohi upon you. May she always be with you.”

As he spoke, Gawan saw Maarin’s eyes begin to glaze over as she smiled at him and clenched the blessing in her hand.

“She is with me as she is with us all, Gawan. She guides us and keeps us safe in our lives.” A slight frown crossed her weathered face for a minute before it was gone. “And you keep yourself safe as well, Gawan. I have seen a stranger in the village, he crept past here not long before you arrived, he did. A Shadowman, I thought him.”

Gawan hid a grimace and nodded in recognition of her words. He was used to her small moments of senility now, her tales of Shadowmen, Styges and the Demented amongst other foul beasts from children’s tales. No doubt she had seen someone running late to the shrine.

“Hooded, garbed all in black, you be careful young Gawan.”

There it was, young Gawan. She had not called him that since he truly had been a child, but now he was soon to be a man.

“I will, widow Maarin.”

“Good, I know that you will. Off with you then, I’m sure your father can make use of you this day, he’s not as young as he was when he first came to Lake’s Rest. And don’t forget that pie.”

Gawan didn’t of course, he looked forward to presenting that gift to his father greatly and the sooner the two could sit down and enjoy that together the better. He squeezed Maarin’s hand gently as he got to his feet and picked up the pie. The two repeated their farewells out of politeness before Gawan found himself outside again, heading home to wait for his father.

[Boustrophedon]

I liked this new stuff what land are you basing it on? An existing one or something you came up with?

[Mors Vigilia]

Thank you I'm basing it on a world that I'm making up as I go along despite vastly underestimating the effort that would take, lol. Part Two of Chapter One should be up by tonight.

[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter One

Part Two

The village of Lake’s Rest was positioned below the tallest peak of the mountains that men called the Razors, a steep range of insurmountable jagged rocks that neither man nor beast could traverse. Laslo’s Peak, the highest of the mountains, was almost completely smooth on the western side. Water ran down it during the rains and collected into a deep bowl, forming the very lake that Lake’s Rest now stood beside. Gawan walked by it now and over the bridge that led towards the house he shared with his father. This Lake was where he had learned to swim and to fish, where he had first began to notice the girls who swam with him in a different way than what he previously had. He, Harri and their other friends would challenge each other to try and scale up the side of Laslo’s Peak whilst in the water to impress the girls. It was an impossible task trying to do so on land, let alone when their limbs were slippery and unable to gain any miniscule amount of purchase. It was often when they were swimming in the lake that they would hear rumours that the travelling merchantmen of Queen’s Vale were heading towards Lake’s Rest. On these rare occasions – at most three times a year if they were lucky, but some years the merchantmen never came at all – those in the lake would race to make themselves presentable for when the merchantmen did arrive. Many chose to wear their best clothes when the merchantmen arrived because for them it was an event, a chance to sample the wares of far off places. For the boys, they found a great interest in the merchantmen’s guards. These men wore suits of chain mail and carried weapons of all sorts, some even offered to spar with them for a price in the way of training. These men were strangers to the village, bringing with them strange customs as well as items, they taught the boys to gamble and occasionally they even lost money to the villagers, mainly Harri Galkin who showed a certain flare for it.

Passing over the bridge, it was a short walk for Gawan to come to the house that stood pride of place in a small wooded clearing. As with all the buildings in Lake’s Rest it was built with the heavy timbers of the local tabla tree that were durable against the frequent damp of living so near the water. The house was perhaps a little big for two people but would have been too small for three. It had been built by Gawan’s father who had come to live in Lake’s Rest after travelling the lands as a Sounder of Erohi. Opening the door, Gawan considered preparing a fire for when his father returned home, it was not really cold enough to warrant one, what with it still being summer, but he did feel a great sense of familiarity from the fire, remembering it there in the back of his mind during happy times of his past. Deciding against it, he set the pie down on the main table where his father would see it and went to hang up his cloak.

Venedikt Bromalus strode into the house - a gust of air bringing in a few leaves with him – and grinned widely when he saw his son and then the gift on the table.

“Ah, my lad. You gave widow Maarin her blessing then? There’s a good lad, just as I always say, ey?”

Gawan’s father was of a similar height to himself, though whereas Gawan occasionally stooped, Venedikt always held himself straight and true. With more grey hair than its previous blonde, casually brushed back and tucked behind the ears, Venedikt was nearing his seventieth name day. He had arrived in Lake’s Rest almost fourteen years ago, with a young Gawan in his arms. Despite his age, Gawan was his boy and his only child. The height and hair colour was seemingly all Venedikt shared with his son, he had eyes of a dark hazel and a stern face with a strong jaw. In Lake’s Rest, sons took their fathers name after their own as daughters did with their mothers, something that seemed to confuse outsiders who liked to call them by their second names.

Taking off his red and yellow cassock, Venedikt began to unbutton the top of his shirt for comfort. Arriving in Lake’s Rest he had quickly assumed the position of village Virtuant, acting as spiritual guidance for the people and teaching them the ways of Erohi. The position had been vacant before he arrived and so it was a natural progression from Sounder to Virtuant for him.

“Work’s not done yet, lad. I was talking with the Mayor and he mentioned that he required help replacing a few of the strutways before winter comes Says he’s got a new shipment of timber in that should last longer in the cold this time.”

Venedikt’s grin became a joyful smirk as he saw his son roll his eyes. The Mayor always believed he had found a new and better type of wood for the struts but they seemed to need changing every other year. Tabla wood wasn’t used for the strutways as it was deemed too good to merely walk upon, plus it was a valuable export for the village and the Mayor would hang himself before they started wasting it on strutways.

“Go on then, see what you can do about it. Put your cloak back on, mind, it’s getting nippy out with the setting sun. Come back before it’s down and I’m sure I’ll have left a crumb or two of that pie for you.”

The look of shock on Gawan’s face forced a bubbling chuckle to erupt from his father who now held up his hands defensively.

“By Erohi, I meant nothing by that, lad. It’ll be here sure enough, we’ll have it together, maybe get the fire going tonight too and check if the chimney’s still clear.”

A smile creeping back onto his face, Gawan nodded and donned his cloak once more, departing for the Mayor’s house.

[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter One

Part Three

In the short while that Gawan had been inside, the sun had dropped noticeably, bringing with it the evening’s chill. Some still held to the outdated belief that the sun heralded the passing of time and that a man could set his clock by the position it held in the sky, yet all good men knew that the Domina Erohi was mistress of the sun and that it came and went at her choosing. Closing the door behind him, Gawan returned back along the struts that led from his house to the village proper. The days light was failing and it was a shadowy figure that emerged onto the same strutway as Gawan, causing him to come to a hesitant stop. The figure was shorter than Gawan, garbed in dark browns and greys that seemed to absorb the little light that still remained. Gawan’s mind quickly returned to the widow Maarin’s talk of Shadowmen, his heart leapt to his mouth as a gasp failed to escape. A small flash of white came from the figure, a bearing of teeth set in a familiar roguish grin.

“I see you got out of the blessing at the shrine again, Gawan.”

“I did, Harri. Though you know why, well enough, I was at the widow Maarin’s place.” Gawan’s voice was pitched low; he still felt the nerves that had taken him before, though he knew them to be little more than foolish fancies. He had grown up with Harri Galkin and the two had done much together. He walked up to his friend who patted him on the shoulder as they fell into step. Now the two were closer, Gawan could make out the ruffled brown hair and dark amber eyes of his friend, the familiar grin still remained, often connoting the possibilities of mischief, or what passed for it in Lake’s Rest.

“Where are we heading?”

“I’m to see Mayor Fenn, he asked for me.”

Harri stretched and considered this before nodding, as Gawan knew he would. The young man often walked around with Gawan when he could, he obviously yearned to leave the village on an 'adventure' as soon as he could and was looking forward to Gawan’s name day more than Gawan himself was.

“I’ll go with you, then. I’ve nothing better to do.”

With that the two carried on towards the Mayor’s house.

“Oh yes, there was a reason I came looking for you.” Harri remembered. “It came up at the shrine today, a troupe of merchantmen are expected to arrive here tomorrow! Isn’t that great? We can get everything we need before we head up to Vystar. I was making new strings for my bow all day yesterday and I already have a few traps prepared for rabbits and such, though I’d love to get a sword or even a spear like the hunters have.”

Harri had lusted after those hunter’s spears for as long as Gawan could remember, even going so far as stealing one and hiding it for four days before he finally came clear. Needless to say, the hunters guarded there things like no other; to lose the tools of their trade – especially something as important as their spears – could ruin them. The news of the merchantmen was very welcome to Gawan; he knew that they would require new pots and cooking implements, not to mention a tent big enough for the two of them, even though Harri insisted that the two could make new shelters each night… Gawan did not fancy that.

The Mayor’s house was positioned in the centre of the village; it was effectively two houses joined together that he and his family lived in. Initially it had just been one house when he had been a blacksmith, but on his ascension to Mayor he joined another house to it and his son took over the smithy. His son, Jory, a man of twenty years and soon to be married this autumn, was at the smithy now, barely looking up as the two passed him, his hammer never missing a beat as it tempered out something that looked like a barrel hoop to Gawan’s eyes. Harri stepped up smartly to the Mayor’s door and knocked a sharp jaunty rhythm upon it that he always seemed to favour.

Fenn Robern, the Mayor of Lake’s Rest, opened the door and blinked at Gawan and Harri. He had been a heavy set man once, his days wielding a blacksmith’s hammer had made him hard, but now he lacked the muscle he had once had and a paunch was beginning to show.

“Good evening, Gawan, and to you Harri, I see you’ve come to help Gawan replace the struts, good lad.”

Harri's mouth all but hung open at the mention of work, his eyes staring accusingly at Gawan who had not been forthcoming about the nature of his visit to the Mayor. The confusion quickly cleared though and his grin returned.

“Good evening to you indeed, Mayor Fenn, I was merely accompanying Gawan here, I must be off now as-“

“No doubt you do, and no doubt as you are a lad who enjoys the company of his friends, you will enjoy helping out young Gawan. Why, with the two of you together it’ll take no time. I’m sure Gawan’ll thank you for your help.” The Mayor leant against the door frame and continued on. “Yes, you’re good lads, you’ll make short work of it. Jory has the new struts in the forge, he’ll show you to them.”

Harri hung his head dejectedly and Gawan had to take him by the shoulders to get him to move towards the forge.

“You don’t have to help out if you don’t want to.”

“Ah, why not, ey? As I said, I’ve nothing better to do, a bit of manual labour’ll prepare me for our upcoming adventure to Vystar. We’ll need to fell trees and whatnot for shelter, right?”

Gawan chuckled amicably but he could tell that his friend was hurt. Harri was passed his fifteenth name day and officially a man, yet the other men of the village still seemed to think of him as a somewhat troublesome child.

Jory grunted as Gawan and Harri entered the forge, saying only the few words that he needed to to direct them to the struts and the place that they were needed, then he went straight back to his anvil again, the sounds of his hammer accompanying the two lads as they moved off to the strutway.

[Dead Sun]

I thought a month would be a good time to wait -

Where's the damn update!?

Sincerely, Sun.

[Mors Vigilia]

Ask and you shall receive I've managed to write up a fair few notes since I've been away and so now I just need to find the time to write it all up. Will post the beginning of Chapter Two very soon.

[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter Two

Part One

A Respite From The Chill

Gawan and Harri set to work immediately, prising out the old and rotting struts. Harri cursed when stagnant water dripped from one of them onto his new boots, yet another item he had procured for their grand adventure, though he seemed unwilling to get even the smallest mark on them until they had set out. The old struts were tossed unceremoniously to one side where they squelched into the boggy ground. They would be dried out and used for firewood, it was a shame that such sought after wood would be used in such a way but it had served its purpose and was no use to any carpenter once the damp had set in. They worked in synch, each one used to the other’s style and rhythm of work which were mostly the same due to their constant companionship. With the last few struts left to prize out Gawan took that task upon himself as there was no choice but to move from the strutways onto the boggy ground and had already heard enough complaining about Harri’s boots. The young man instead went back to the smithy to collect the nails.

Harri had only been a short while – Gawan was just now prising the last of the rotting struts – but night had fallen suddenly while they worked and it was difficult for the two to make each other out in the gloom. The two paused for a while - Harri keeping the nails close so that he did not lose them in the poor light – and sat upon the new struts that they had yet to affix to the ways. Talking between themselves, the two then discussed the possibilities of continuing, though Harri was always reluctant to start something, once he did he often saw it through to the end. Strangely enough it was Gawan who wanted to wait until the light had improved, though in truth both were more interested in sitting where they were for a rest and so put little enthusiasm into what they were saying. The light did improve eventually, but by no creation of Erohi. Mayor Fenn walked towards Harri and Gawn, a lit lamp in one hand and two flasks in the other.

“I thought you two could use a bit of light. I was sitting down with my pipe when I noticed how dark it’d got. Yet another early night the Domina’s given us…”

He put the lamp down and handed the flasks over.

“And as usual these days it gets bloomin’ cold every time the sun’s gone. The wife fixed up a nice hot tea for you, Gawan, and a jot of brandy for you, Harri, it’s a good one that.”

The two accepted the drinks gratefully; they had indeed begun to notice the cold as soon as they had stopped working. Gawan grinned as he watched Harri’s face, this was the first time a man had offered him brandy since the compulsory drinks on his fifteenth nameday. Perhaps it hadn’t gone quite as unnoticed as they had thought.

Yet more boots scraped across the struts as another face appeared in their new circle of light. Kaspar Natrin held a bundle of twigs and small branches under his arm, his other arm now shaking accusingly at the Mayor.

“Thought I’d find you here, Mayor, right in the only bloody light source in the village.”

“Now, not this again, Kaspar. I have nothing to do with the Domina’s setting of the sun and you know it. We can’t leave lamps hanging about all day just in case it goes dark without warning, it’d cost a fortune to keep going, not to mention the risk of fire.”

“You’ve got to have them on the strutways, Mayor! This is my second pair of boots I’ve wrecked ‘cause I’ve not been able to see where I’m puttin’ ‘em. What do I care for the vilage’s coffers if my own are constantly spent on new bloody boots”

“Watch your words, Kaspar.”

“I may as well watch ‘em, I’m not bloomin’ watchin’ anything else, am I? Making my way back from the Drywood and I couldn’t even see the bloomin’ wood for the bloomin’ trees. I would’ve stumbled and drowned somewhere down the ways if you didn’t have this one measly solitary lamp over here with which to navigate by. I tell you, one of these days someone will kill ‘emselves due to this lack of lighting and it’ll be on your head, Fenn, you know it.”

“You’d do that, wouldn’t you? You’d go and get yourself killed just to prove a point. I’ll tell you what I’ve told you eight times before. If you want more lamps, show us your coin. Otherwise go on home and leave me in peace from your nonsense.”

But Kaspar was not so easy to shake once he’d started an argument going. The two men continued on, often repeating themselves over and over again in an attempt to drive a point home. Now and then their argument was punctuated by a scraping of wood, or the thud of a mallet as it drove in a nail. Everyone in the village knew of Kaspar and the Mayor’s worthless arguments and it was certainly too small a thing to make Gawan and Harri stop their work whilst they could take advantage of the light.

“Gawan, are you here?”

A small squeaky voice emerged from the other end of the strutways. The figure came closer into the light, revealing himself to be young Tobb Harsan. Mayor Fenn quickly turned, welcoming any escape from Kaspar’s words.

“Well it seems that no one’s ready to call it a day yet, despite Erohi’s wishes. We’re getting quite a gathering over here, aren’t we? What’re you doing out young Master Tobb?”

“There’s another Sounder in the village, Mayor Fenn. A Sounder!”

[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter Two

Part Two

“Now, that’s something to brighten up…” Mayor Fenn’s words were swallowed up as Tobb inturupted.

“I heard that Gawan and Harri were over here doing chores, Gawan…”

Now it was Tobb’s turn to be interrupted as Harri reacted to the lack of a given title.

“That’s Master Harri, you snot nosed brat. You’re at least three years my junior, young Tobb. And I wasn’t doing bloo-” With a quick glance to the Mayor, his cheeks reddening, Harri amended his words. “I wasn’t doing chores, I choose my own work now, and work it is, not chores. Just you remember that.”

The boys that had grown up with Harri were the worst in his eyes. To them he was still the boy who always hung around with Gawan, never mature enough to be seen with the men. Harri had begun separating himself from his former playmates, though they still gave little heed to anything he said, even with the added authority of his new title as Master Harri. Tobb looked as though he was about to argue, but thought better of it when Harri took a threatening step. Seeing yet another topic of contention this night, Mayor Fenn raised a hand for silence, with a warning glace towards Kaspar who was already looking like he wanted to continue their previous argument.

“Another Sounder has come then. Actually here to Lake’s Rest? That is good news indeed. We must prepare for the Heartbond Festival. Finally, a most joyous occasion for our village, two Priests of Erohi!”

It had been a good four years since the last time any in Lake’s Rest had thought to celebrate the Heartbond Festival, called upon every time two or more Priests of Erohi congregated outside of Sedri, the Holy City. Four years ago there had been whispers of a Sounder nearby, always possibly in the next town or village over, though one never appeared, little more than wishful thinking and whispers on the wind. Harri spoke up again, eager to make amends for his somewhat childish outburst.

“And there are merchantmen coming tomorrow, I heard that for a fact. Ragar said he saw their caravans at the top of Sevan Hill when he was bringing the sheep down from the top pasture.” Here Harri gave a knowing nudge towards Gawan. “I hear Lowra’s already thinking of what to get from them. She’s after new dresses, you know.”

“Is that so?” Gawan replied. “Why don’t you put your own hand in your pocket then and get her the materials?”

“I don’t care about how Lowra dresses; you’re the one that’s always gawping at her in the lake.”

Mayor Fenn gave an awkward cough.

“Well now, lads. It’s getting late and young Tobb here tells us that we’re going to be having a busy time of it in these coming days. I’ll leave this light here for you so you can finish up now or in the morning if you prefer. Come along, Kaspar, lest you break your fool neck in the dark and send your foul spirit to haunt me. I’ll see you home safe this night.”

Kaspar grumbled but saw that two heads would be better than one. Together the two men walked off back down the strutway, the darkness engulfing them after only a few yards. Harri, now holding the Mayor’s lamp, looked at it and then at Tobb.

“Come on, Gawan, we’re as good as done here. The rest can be done in the morning. Besides, I want to be somewhere warm.” He placed his now empty flask on the pile of new struts and stood up, stretching. “What are you still doing here, Tobb?”

The boy looked confused for a while, as if trying to think of something that he had forgotten. His face brightening, he turned to Gawan, once more ignoring Harri who looked like he was ready to chew through his own teeth in frustration at the boy.

“The reason I came here. Your father wants you to meet the Sounder, Gawan. Their at Master Venedikt’s house... Your house.”

Gawan sighed and took the lamp from Harri’s unresisting hand.

“That settles it. Off with you, Tobb, we’ll see you tomorrow. Come on, Harri, let’s carry on with this. Those two’ll be all formalities and conversation; I won’t sit doing nothing through their long talks and blessings. Let’s finish this and hopefully I can slip in at the end.”

Surprisingly, both Harri and Tobb raised their voices in contention of this, Tobb claiming that he had been sent to fetch Gawan, and Harri decrying the want for further work now that they had stopped. Seeing that he and Harri were agreeing, Tobb changed his tone and quickly stated that he would indeed return home, and that it was a much better idea for Harri and Gawan to finish work on the strutways. Before they knew what was happening, the boy was skipping off back down the strutway and Harri was left with a mallet in his hands. Laughing at the look on Harri’s face, Gawan began moving a new strut into place, work had begun again.

Though they could see better now than when the work had previously stopped, it was still tricky work sliding the struts into place. It was with much cursing and many fresh cuts and bruises that the final strut slid in, gleaming freshly in the lamplight. The two took turns in hammering in the nails as with the light they had they could only focus on one at a time but eventually the work was completed. After hammering the last nail home, Harri laid back on the new struts, exhaling in relief.

“I could sleep here after that.”

“If you wanted to freeze to death, you could.” Gawan retorted. The night was as cold as ever, though the work had kept them warm, it would not last. “Now we can call it a day. There you are, Harri, a proper day’s work.”

“A child’s chores… How long is it now?” Harri asked as if he hadn’t been counting the days until Gawan’s fifteenth name day.

“Ten days, my friend. Nine days from tomorrow and we can go on your grand adventure… You’ll be crying to return in a week, two at most.” Gawan grinned and offered Harri a hand up.

“Only for having to look after you non-stop, the way things are going you’ll have us building strutways to Vystar and back!” Harri accepted his friend’s hand and together the two laughed good-naturedly as they began to clear their tools. They left them in a small pile with Mayor Fenn’s flasks for the man to have retrieved in the morning. Departing in their glow of lamp light, they made their way home, Harri departing from Gawan on the lake bridge with talk of meeting tomorrow to see the merchantmen arrive. Then they could make their final provisions ready for their journey to Vystar.

Opening the door to his house, Gawan saw his father seated before the lit fire. The man smiled and raised a hand in greeting before putting a finger to his lips.

“Sounder Marlo is asleep upstairs, you have missed him.” The Virtuant then pointed to the plate that Gawan had brought earlier from Widow Marin’s house, upon which remained a miniscule slice. “You will understand that we had a guest, lad, you can have that bit and there’re some spiced apples in the larder. Then it’s off to bed with you, can’t have you groggy for when the Sounder awakes. We’ll have work to do m’boy.” Venedikt smiled warmly and turned back to gazing into the fire. Gawan could see that he was wearing his formal cassock of white and yellow, fringed with red, the emblazoned symbol of the Sedri Shard above his left breast. It was very rare for Venedikt to dress so formally. He obviously held today’s meeting with the Seeker in high regard.

Gawan was glad for Widow Marin’s pie - no matter how small – and he wolfed down three of the spiced apples before going to bed, with his father still sitting quietly in his chair, deep in thought.

[Rex Anglorvm]

I somehow managed to miss this before your latest post, I've just read it in one sitting, its very enjoyable I have to say, I liked the interplay between the characters, the mayor and the moaning Kaspar, the various lads and all with a promise of adventure to come.

Great stuff

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[Mors Vigilia]

Cheers, Rex More from all of them to come.

[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter Three

Part One

The Merchantmen's Guards

Gawan awoke to the sound of sporadic taps at his window. Grunting as he levered himself from his warm bed, he moved to the window and attempted to push it open. A frost had set in during the night and had caused the window to stick, meaning that Gawan had to give it three hearty shoves before it swung open bringing in a torrent of ice cold air. Below the window, Harri Galkin gaped.

“Bloody hell, it’s freezing, Gawan, put some clothes on for Erohi’s sake!”

With a start, Gawan noticed that he did indeed have no clothes on, not even a nightshirt. Suddenly becoming aware of the cold air seeping through him, he darted back into the room to pull on his nightshirt and a pair of breeches before returning to the window. Harri was still there, idly throwing a small icy clump of mud in the air before catching it again, revealing the source of the taps upon Gawan’s window.

“Come on, you’re missing the Merchantmen, they’re here!”

“Already?” Gawan ducked back inside again to change into some more suitable clothes, calling out as he did so. “Wait for me, I won’t be a moment!” Donning his thickest woollen cloak over a dark green shirt, Gawan hurried downstairs, past his father who was boiling a pan of milk on the stove.

“Is that Master Harri out there making that racket?”

“He wasn’t that loud, father, just trying to wake me up, is all.”

“Hmph, well, I won’t begrudge you for oversleeping, just be a bit quiet will you? Sounder Marlo’s still fast asleep from what I can make out. I don’t want him disturbed, he had a long trek here and he says this is the first rest he’s had in a while.” Venedikt saw that Gawan was obviously keen to head on outside and so gave him a wry smile. “Off to see the Merchantmen?” He unhooked a small purse from his waist and tossed it casually to his son who caught it clumsily. “Some coppers and a silver mark, spend them wisely, my boy. Treat yourself to something nice.”

Grinning widely Gawan emphatically thanked his father before rushing out the door, almost slamming it shut in his haste before remembering the request for quiet. Harri sat on a rock before the house, looking up expectantly as Gawan appeared.

“They’re on the green, come on.” Standing Harri turned and headed off down the eastern strutway, slowing a little to let Gawan catch up. “I saw them setting up when they arrived and this time there must be near on twenty guards, I’ve never seen so many.”

Gawan rolled his eyes, that meant that Harri would spend the day gambling if he could. Outsiders were the only ones that still would gamble with Harri, everyone else being too accustomed to his skill. Though the number of guards could perhaps be an issue…

“Why so many do you think? Could there be trouble nearby?”

That would definitely put a dampener on their plans for Harri’s adventure… Unsurprisingly though, Harri only seemed excited by the prospect of danger.

“Trouble, ey? Could be… I’ll ask the guards when we’re together.”

Gawan nodded slowly, understanding beginning to dawn upon him. This was the first time that Harri would be able to approach the guards as men and not as elders, he would surely converse thoroughly with them to make them see him as something other than an inquisitive boy.

The green at Lake’s Rest was a large square of grass, positioned outside of the Dry Wood where every big occasion of Lake’s Rest was placed, be it a marriage or a travelling show, this was where it was held. Approaching it, Gawan and Harri could already hear the raised voices of joyful exclamations at the Merchantmen’s wares before their wagons came into sight. A veritable crowd of villagers amassed on the green, huddling over wares and showing off newly purchased trinkets to their friends. Harri clapped Gawan on the back and rushed off to where the guards had set up their own tent, some already calling for those who wanted martial training, basic as it was to suit these humble village folk. Looking around himself, Gawan began to head towards the biggest wagon, his hands already going to his newly acquired coin purse in anticipation.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Very nice update, lets hope that Gawan buys something suitably martial, why Harri skins a load of cash from unwary gamblers.....hopefully he won't meet with irate losing guardsman though

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[Mors Vigilia]

Chapter Three

Part Two

Darting around a cluster of second hand pots and other cooking implements, Gawan attempted to get a glimpse of the better wares that these Merchantmen had to offer, trying in vain to peer over shoulders or get a glimpse as people departed, leaving a short amount of room before someone else barged into the newly vacated spot. It was a good few minutes that Gawan stood outside of one wagon, surrounded by cooing women, before he realised that the wares displayed were nothing other than small precious stones and very feminine jewellery. His mind quickly went to Lowra, wondering whether she was here today and if she’d appreciate him buying her something from this wagon… Shaking his head, Gawan moved on to the next point of interest, a rickety stall, laden with rusted hammers, misshapen sickles and other tools that no self-respecting villager of Lake’s Rest would even look twice at. Some seemed so old that they may even had been bartered from another village or farm ten years ago when they’d worn out their use, as some preferred to barter with what they had for a new item rather than pay the full price in coins. Just as he was about to pass the stall, Gawan stopped. Somewhere under those neglected tools, he could see the very definite – if incredibly worn - hilt of a sword… And nearby that was what must have been a vicious looking hatchet once upon a time, now almost doubled in size by rust and notches upon the blade. About to ask the Merchantman whether he had any other – or better – items, Gawan realised that he did not even have the man’s attention. The Merchantman was instead staring over Gawan’s shoulder as the Mayor and his son marched purposefully towards them, angry puffs of smoke trailing after the pair as Fenn Robern puffed furiously on his pipe, the bowl glowing a warm reddy-orange and in his hand, a large and wicked looking short pole cleaver or voulge.

“What is this I hear you said to my son? This is the best work he’s ever done, and the best to ever come out of my smithy, that’s a fact!”

The two were an imposing pair, Jory was well tempered from his hours at the forge and age had yet to lessen Fenn’s impressive height. The merchantman threw up his hands.

“Peace to you, good Mayor, I meant nothing by it. I can’t sell this.”

“Why not? It’s better than anything else you’ve got here.”

“It’s difficult, Mayor Fenn and no offence to your good boy here, but it’s too much of one thing and not enough of the other…” The Merchantman contorted his face in mock frustration, as if lamenting his inability to describe the situation. Seeing this, the Mayor pushed the voulge at him.

“Show me! Tell me what’s wrong with this in your eyes then, Merchantman, I was unaware of your wealth of experience in smithing metal.” Taking the weapon carefully, the Merchantman ran his hands along it, failing to hide a slight hint of admiration in his eyes.

“Here’s the thing, no farmer would take it, you can’t chop wood with it, and no soldier’ll take it because it’s just too plain for the likes of them… If you excuse my saying so, good Mayor, it looks very well in your hands or those of your son, but no fighting man’ll like the looks of it… That’s just the way of things… Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Not wanting to be involved in this confrontation any more, the Merchantman handed the voulge back and began to back away to his wagon, pretending that more pressing matters awaited him inside. The Mayor called after him, though when the wagon’s door closed there was little use in him continuing. Grumbling around his pipe, now glowing even hotter, the Mayor only just now noticed Gawan by the stall.

“Gawan.” The Mayor was still rather agitated, feeling that his son deserved more praise for his work, even though Jory himself was his usual bluff self, seemingly uninterested with the whole thing.

“Mayor Fenn. Master Jory.” Gawan nodded to both of them politely, before curiously eyeing the weapon in the Mayor’s hand. To his eyes it truly was impressive craftsmanship, the shaft was perhaps six feet of smooth and polished tabla wood, slightly curved at the top where it met the steel blade, a jagged thing, yet subtly smooth as it tapered off into spiked corners, curving out and up into an impressive blade a foot in length.

“That man doesn’t know a good offer when it’s presented to him.” The Mayor continued to puff on his pipe, calming himself down. “Though perhaps he does have a point… He was the only one who could take it, no one else here would have it. Now all it serves as is an example of my lads work. A shame that such a thing should go to waste…”

“Mayor Fenn?” Unconsciously, Gawan’s hand unhooked his coin purse and held it in his hand. “I wonder if…”

“You? Young Gawan, this is a weapon… And a good one too, despite what some know-nothing Merchantman says of it.” Fenn broke off and began to eye Gawan suspiciously. “Unless Harri’s got you caught up in that adventure talk of his… Of course he has, no wonder he’s been so itchy lately, he’s waiting for your name day!” He barked a laugh before proffering the voulge towards Gawan. “Go on then, get a feel for it. Consider it an early name day gift.” Seeing the purse, he dismissed it with a wave. “No need for that, young Gawan, just be sure to be wise about it. Don’t go flashing it around where people might take offence… Though perhaps best if you kept it close… Something’s got these outsiders on edge, something more than usual for outsiders… So be wary when you go, you hear me?”

Gawan was gobsmacked, the purse had fallen onto the floor with a chink of coin – though luckily none had spilled out – and now he almost caressed the voulge, feeling its weight. He had thought he would need two hands to keep it steady but it was deceptively light, the shaft carved in such a way as to not feel as heavy as one would expect of tabla wood.

“Th-thank you, Mayor Fenn and to you Master Jory, this is truly… Thank you both!”

Fenn grinned, seeing that the masterwork would not go to waste and Jory merely gave a nod of acceptance towards Gawan. Gawan was so taken up in the thing that he didn’t even notice the two departing, finding himself alone before the stall Gawan snatched up his pure and hurried off as fast as he dared with the weapon, his weapon, Harri had to see this!

[Rex Anglorvm]

A fine weapon to carve up his future enemies with

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