Chapter 6: A Wind in the East
It was fantastic to be home. The sounds of faint, flowing water melded with the songs of birds chirping and wind rushing between leaves. Sunlight warmly reflected off the faded grey stone works of Castle Honeywine. An unending field of golden wheat, a sea of plenty stretched from horizon to horizon with only the Snowash Mountains to the Northeast ending rolling hills with peaks of ivory.
This is the view Lance had always dreamed off. He gazed upon the tiny hamlet that was his home town. A mere speck of cobblestone and thatch roofs in the distance. He could see water sparkle in what he knew were waterwheels as they drove the watermills. He could see his home. A fairly well off cottage where his mother and father lived and he could only think about how far he had come. It has only taken him five long years of dutiful service to be noticed by Guirbaden of House Light Tower and less than a month to come into the service of House Honeywine. He and his band of Knights now gallantly serve their new House and have been doing an admirable job, according to Lady Lavender herself.
What was father thinking? Losing his knighthood without a fight much less a complaint... Well, I hope you’re proud of me father... I’m doing this for us... for our family.
Lance’s thoughts were interrupted by something his father repeated over and over again. Everytime Lance would argue to his father about reclaiming their family’s honor and glory, his father would strike him down with a single phrase.
“It is not glory from battle, or the wealth of mountains that makes a family great, it’s humility and knowing when to step down.”
Lance snorted at the thought. The other great houses gained their power through hard work and determination. How can our family become great again if we keep stepping down?...
Looking back though, there were a few things Lance admitted that he shouldn’t had done. Firstly was leaving Iron Plow in charge of his company at Light Tower. He chuckled at what fun his soldiers must have been having. Lance wouldn’t be ashamed of it, but he felt... bad for leaving the company of his soldiers. He missed their endless drinking competitions, their rotten jokes and cheap imitations of snobbish nobles. Although the romantic life of a knight was all he wanted, it wasn’t how it imagined it was. Lance knew he would never rescue a princess from a dragon guarded castle in the middle of a volcano, but he certainly thought being a knight would entitle him to more than following his lord or lady around. Not that he minded following Lady Lavender around though.
Lance breathed the lukewarm, afternoon air and sighed. He was knighted on a day just like this. His mind once again began to wander to what he could easily consider, the best day of his life. Just over two weeks ago, he was given a proper knighthood by Lady Lavender herself. It wasn’t a huge ceremony like he hoped it would have been but looking back, it wasn’t incredibly degrading. Lady Lavender knighted him with her stunning Zebarian steel sword in front of a few other nobles of her house to ensure his knighthood was known. She did all of this in the castle’s chapel just in front of the fountain shrine to the Goddess of Rain and Sun. He remembered the scent of roses and lilacs growing in the chapel and thought how well they would work for an eventual wedding.
The sounds of soft hoof patterning broke him from his daydreaming. At first he thought nothing of it and resumed his loitering. Then, just as he could visualise his future, the soft clopping of little hooves behind him once again broke his idle thoughts.
Lance swiftly turned around only to see nothing again. He smiles in anticipation before turning around. Again, the sound of hooves patterning behind him assured him that something was up. This time though, he let whatever was approaching him get very, very close to him. Just as the sound of hoofsteps stopped, Lance lurched around to confront his advisory.
“BOO!” shouted Lance with all his righteous fury.
A young mare, cloaked in burlap, screamed in surprise and fell on her flanks. “How!?! How did you know!?!” screamed the unicorn. “I was being careful and everything! Oh! You ruin everything fun, Lance.”
Lance smirked while reaching out to help the unicorn up. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Twinkle Star.” Twinkle Star promptly grabbed Lance’s hand before being hoisted up. “Come on now, little sis. You’re not going to become a knight by sitting on your flank all day,” chuckled Lance took a long look at his sister’s hand. His mood turned sour the longer he looked at his sister’s blackened hand. He could see the signs that holes were starting to form near her wrists. His only reaction was to sigh deeply and sadly.
“Nothing from the Apothecary?”
Twinkle Star shook her head, some of her lime green mane waved from under her hood. “None of the healers in the town’s church know what’s wrong either...”
“No fever or chills?”
“I’m not sick, Lance.... At least... not on the inside...”
Lance let Twinkle’s hand go and twinkle promptly covered it with her cloak. “So... how’s Mum and Pop?” said Lance trying to change the subject.
“They’re fine. Mum’s been worried sick since you left. As for Father, he’s kept his mind busy by working the mill.”
“Sounds just like Pop. Always working.”
“Oh! Mum also wants to know when you’ll be awarded land. You know, since you’re a knight and all.”
Lance chuckled a little. “Not yet Twinkle. I mean, I JUST got knighted. I’m sure the land will come in time.”
“It’s because you’re from a peasant family, isn’t it?”
“Hey, it certainly beats being from a noble family.”
“Really? How?” asked Twinkle doubtfully.
Lance couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I’d have to wait for father to die before I get the land then. At least with this, I don’t need to wait for anypony to die.”
“Well...” Twinkle rolled her eyes a bit and smiled at Lance. “What about when you have your own kids?”
“And what make you think I’ll have kids?”
“Aside from the fact you’re one of the most flirtatious stallions I’ve ever seen? Quite a bit, big brother.”
Lance couldn’t help but blush a bit. Even though it was a tad true that he flirted with a few mares in his youth, the fact is that he was seriously looking for a mare to call his own. As of now, his sights were set upon Lady Lavender.
“Well... eh... maybe not as much,” joked Lance as he rubbed his neck.
Twinkle couldn’t help but laugh at Lance’s embarrassment. “Ah~ You’re still quite the lady’s stallion, Lance,” chuckled Twinkle. “If most nobles can get away with multiple wives, why can’t you?”
“Guh!” recoiled Lance in disgust. “You know I don’t believe in that!”
“Ahh~ But you have thought about it. I can see it in your eyes.”
“How did you even get this far into the castle anyway? I thought militia and men-at-arms were regulated to the lower levels!”
“Well... I have been practicing...”
“Please tell me you haven’t been picking locks... again... Twinkle Star...” sighed Lance. “You know the punishment for lockpicking.”
“But Lance, it’s one of the few things I’m good at. That and... what else is a... monster like me to do? What else can I do?”
“You’re not a monster. There will be a cure for your... condition, I swear.” Lance stood silent for a good long while. “Why don’t you show me the doors you can pick so easily? Maybe I can complain to the locksmiths about the locks being too simple.”
Twinkle Star’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh! I’ll show you right quick! Maybe I can teach you a thing or two!”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Twinkle,” chuckled Lance. He was glad to see his sister so happy.
Twinkle grabbed Lance’s right hand. The plated gauntlet rattled at the sudden application of pressure. “Nonsense! Lockpicking is a useful skill to know!” Twinkle started pulling her brother to a specific direction, goading him to try out lockpicking.
“Twinkle! Wait!” Lance tried to resist but found himself being pulled onwards. Part of him knew this was wrong, but he couldn’t very well disappoint his sister. Seeing a sudden burst of energy from his sister brought a smile to his face. He chuckled at his sister’s unusual demeanor and followed along. “No need to drag, Twinkle!” The sounds of their hooves echoed down the stone hallway along with his laughter.
“But if I don’t, you’ll flap away!” giggled Twinkle as she stopped at a locked door.
The hall was empty. Most likely because Lady Lavender was holding a luncheon with lesser lords. Lance could smell the wood fires of the kitchen nearby and the scent of honey glazed wheat rolls flowed out of a nearby hallway.
“The pantry’s back door? Are you sure about this?”
“Of course! The bakers aren’t going to notice some missing raw ingredients,” said Twinkle slyly. She pulled out some crude iron lockpicks fashioned out of some old rods by the looks of it. She wiggled her makeshift lockpick into the fairly large keyhole.
“Okay, this is a pretty old fashioned lock. You can see the tumblers. All you have to do is move the tumblers out of sight.”
“What do you mean by that, Twinkle?”
Twinkle giggled at her confused brother. “Here. Let me show you,” said Twinkle as she started messing with the lock and soon enough, it popped right open, and just as quickly, Twinkle closed the door, locking it in the process. “Okay, now you try.” said Twinkle jokingly as she handed Lance her lockpicking tools.
“Err...” Lance whimpered. But before he could start, some servants came into the pantry. Lance held as still as he could.
“I heard the King was was calling the banners of the great houses,” spoke a servant to her counterpart.
“Where in blazes did you hear that?”
“I was the wine server for Lord Oak’s dinner, remember? I had nothing better to do than listen to what they were talking about.”
“Something bad must be happening if the King is calling all banners...”
Lance wasn’t sure what was going on but he knew he and his men would see combat soon. Maybe lockpicking wasn’t such a bad idea after all. His face grew grim as did his sister’s at the news. This would be Lance’s greatest challenge as a knight. Skirmishes and bandits were one thing, but to be part of the King’s army was another thing entirely.
“I wonder what could be going on?” whispered Twinkle Star nervously to her brother.
- - -
The King stood upon Castle Alabaster’s easternmost tower. The setting sun illuminating all from behind him. His gaze was set to the east and the many fears that he holds of the lands there. The sky was quickly darkening in the autumn evening and the faint glimmer of stars were cast against the encroaching darkness of night. The snow of the Marbles Fall mountains reflected the last light of the day in a haze of white as the mountain’s stone turned a rich salmon. The vast fields of farms outside the outermost wall slowly turned from their rich gold to a silent grey. These and beyond were lands that belonged to him, the sole King of Castillia. But nearly a hundred miles away, his furthest symbol of control and empire stands alone.
Castle Snow, built to defend Castillia against the barbaric Brussaves, had sent messengers warning of increased activity across the pass. Castillia was, and is, The King’s realm. The idea of the dirty and uncivilized Brussaves attempting to cross into his bountiful and pristine lands infuriated him. It wasn’t Castillia’s fault that the Brussaves were starving. It wasn’t Castillia’s fault that the Brussaves chose to settle in a dead and ice covered land. And now it would seem that they, the ice people of the north, want to correct their obviously flawed thinking by bringing their barbarity into a nation as cultured as Castillia. This was unacceptable, but it would be a unpreventable outcome.
The Brussaves may be barbaric and less intelligent than those of Castillia, but they are anything but cowardly. The Brussaves will come for Castillia’s land and they will keep coming. The King fumed over his options. He could fortify Castle Snow and brace for the coming winter. He could launch an attack into the heart of barbarity itself but that would result in a more unified Brussavgarde and hold the possibility of a reprisal invasion. He could do nothing, and hope the barbarians would destroy themselves than unite. There would be no negotiating with these barbarians as they would only think of themselves. For a moment, The King sighed, thinking what his elder brother would have done in this situation.
He would have probably invited the cretans into Castillia in a vain attempt to “civilize” them.
Metallic rattling of a full coin purse broke The King’s concentration. The Masked King needed not to turn around. He could hear the distinctive bounce of Lord Cork’s long, golden chain striking his coin purse. He could hear the distinctive panting that the old, fat, diamond dog produced after walking up so many flights of stairs.
“Lord Cork, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, a Lord as important as I has much business to attend to,” gloated the diamond dog as he stroked his long muzzle fur. “And it just so happens that I have a very lucrative proposal with the crown I would like you to hear.”
“Save your flamboyancy for lesser beings,” retorted The King. “We both know your deals end up benefiting you more than anyone else.”
“Why I never!”
“But you do.” The King looked over his shoulder, glaring a single eye at the plump Lord of Cork. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have the fate of my Kingdom to contemplate.”
Lord Cork opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He then politely bowed and turned around to leave. But, he quickly faced the King one last time.
“If it is the situation in Brussavgarde, I believe I can aid you in this regard.”
The King felt an ember of hatred grow for this clearly incompetent Lord of Castillia. “And what do you know about the Brussaves, Lord Cork?”
“Ah! A good many things. For you see, in the business world, it is most wise to know exactly what’s going on with your competition.”
“And do tell, what exactly is going on?”
“Well, you’re going to love this, my King. Apparently, and according to my most reliable of sources, the Brussaves have a King that has united many of their most disreputable of factions.”
This was shocking news to The King. He never thought that the Brussaves could ever have a king let alone unite under a common banner. A single Brussave tribal raid across the border was bad enough, but now the entire North could be arrayed against him and all of Castillia. This revelation took a toll on The King’s weak body. He staggered a little but managed to keep himself from falling over thanks to the guard rail.
“And, you are sure of this, Lord Cork?”
“Positively. I have heard of these little border incursions and thought of them nothing less than a threat to our-” As soon as Lork Cork realised what he said, he quickly covered up his mistake with a well placed cough. “YOUR Kingdom’s welfare,” he said in a corrective tone. “Of course, we could always turn this situation into something lucrative.”
“What are you planning, Lord Cork?” said the King in disbelief.
“I’m thinking we market our wares, food and weapons to these ‘barbarians’ at steep, yet believable prices-”
“I will have none of that.” interrupted the King.
“Please, allow me to finish.” bowed Lord Cork. “If we bleed their pseudo-nation dry of valuable currency, it strengthens Castillia as a whole. And... considering the position they will be in... they can’t refuse the ‘deals’ we give them, my King.”
“What kind of position would they be in where an idiotic barbarian couldn’t refuse the prices we give them?”
“The kind that threatens their very existence, of course.”
“You’re not suggesting that Castillia threaten to invade the north, are you?”
“Of course not my Liege! I’m saying we get others to do our dirty work. In this way, we can bleed them dry of their wallets, their spirits and their blood.”
Even though his face was masked, the King still could be seen with a face of disbelief. “Please, do tell me who you plan to use to ‘bleed’ the barbarians dry?”
“Well, as we say in the wonderful world of business, ‘knowledge is power’ and I happen to have very, oh so delicious knowledge about the foes that our-”
“I have no time for your extravagance, Lord Cork. Spit it out or I’ll cut it out.”
“Ahem,” coughed Lord Cork nervously. “Well, it just so happens that the trolls that normally plague our barbarian neighbors, have been set against each other thanks to the death of the Troll King.”
The Masked King coughed and laughed at the proclamation. “Trolls, having a King? Preposterous.”
“Oh, but it does make sense, doesn’t it my lord. Think about it, the Barbarians are increasing in number, prodding our defences in a manner like never before, gauging our strength and weaknesses, then uniting under a King of the North?” The plump dog paused to take a breath. “And, the trolls of the north are no longer fighting the Brussaves during this time period? The connections are endless, my Lord.”
At first it didn’t make sense, but the more the King thought about it, the more everything fell into place. The King was more than shocked at this revelation. Not only are the barbarians becoming more organised, but they no longer have a constant force keeping them in check. Their next obvious move would be to take from their bountiful southern neighbor.
“What do you propose to remedy this situation, Lord Cork?”
“Quite simple,” smirked the Diamond Dog. “We unify the trolls like never before and I have just the resources to do so, should the Crown compensate my House for its loss and I will personally, guarantee that the filthy Brussaves will be bled dry by winter’s end...”
- - -