2k words. There would have been an update yesterday, but I injured myself so I didn't have the strength sorry :(
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“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” Roderick grumbled. “Let’s go find Edouart, we’ve seen all we can here.”
The Brettonian’s party had encountered much the same. Tonnes of the dead, none of the living. The garrison had been wiped to a man, and the attackers had seemingly lost none of their number. Edouart was insistent that they stay to bury the fallen, and he sent a runner back to the main camp. Roderick did the same, and before very long, the main host was set to gather upon Cassel.
The handful of buildings that had remained intact were the first to be cleared of corpse and debris, and they made admirable shelter for those quick enough to snatch it up. Von Kessel walked the dirt streets between the dozens of gathered men, who were eager to take the weight of their legs after a long day of marching. Cassel may have been turned into a graveryard, but that didn’t seem to stop the men from taking a break.
“A violent battle took place here,” Von Kessel noted after a short look around. “and no bodies of the foe, either? Perhaps their were orcs about,” he added, with a pointed look at Mazkha.
“Believe me, chum, if it were orcs, we wouldn’ta left any witnesses to tell about it,” she she-orc replied with a toothy grin.
“It wasn’t orcs, that much I’m certain of,” Roderick interjected. “I’ve seen their way of attacking before. No, this was the work of someone else. Something far more… brutal.”
“Whatever the reason may be, we have far more pressing concerns. We shall make camp here tonight,” Von Kessel declared. “The men are weary, and it will do us good to camp beneath roofs instead of trees.”
“Yer off ya rocker, Kessel,” Mazkha chuckled. “Campin’ out in the middle of a mass killin’? Yer nuttier than a squig dropping.”
“Quiet, beast,” Von Kessel retorted. “Your opinion on my decisions matters little. If you don’t want to shelter beneath a roof, feel free to make do in the wilderness.”
“Is this wise, Captain?” Roderick asked, gaining his attention. After reporting back all his findings, he’d though the man would at least be sceptical of lingering. “Whoever wiped these people out, there’s no guarantee they won’t come back…”
“Why would they? They left none of their dead behind, and took everything of value, so why come back to this smoking ruin at all? Besides, what could a roaming group of bandits hope to do? We are near five hundred men, plus these… beasts,” he said with a derisive look to Mazkha. “We are far less an easy target than this hapless village.”
“I’ve not known bandits that could commit such slaughter,” Roderick muttered, watching two men carrying along a mutilated body by the wrists and feet.
“The fort is mostly intact,” Kessel continued. “It would make for an advantageous position, should anyone dare to approach. And we have the river on the flank. Better to hold here than out in the forest, yes?”
“True enough,” Roderick conceded.
“Good man. Organise the nightshifts, and make sure the walls are manned by good sets of eyes. My sailors, preferably, only the Brettonians if you have to.”
“Oi,” Mazkha said. “I can get some of me boys to keep watch, they aint’ doing much else.”
Von Kessel looked at her as one would a rabid animal. “Forgive me if I don’t jump at the bit to have greenskins watching me while I sleep. Post watchmen at your own camp, we can look after ourselves.”
Mazkha turned her flat nose up at him. “Suit yerself, human. I’d be careful waving that little tongue around if I were you. We greenskins can get very hungry when we’re provoked, and human meat’s a delicacy these days.”
“I prefer when we were without beasts as travel companions,” Von Kessel grumbled, turning his back and cutting the conversation. “Roderick, you have your orders.”
He walked in the direction of the fortress walls, leaving him and Mazkha alone. After Edouart had taken them by surprise upon their first meeting with the Duke’s son, Imperial pride demanded such an event never happened again. That was where Roderick came in. Von Kessel had put him in charge of the footmen, and assigning the watch and patrols was his responsibility. He even held a little sway over some of the Brettonian knights, since Edouart was technically under Von Kessel’s command. There was always a little tension in the air whenever Kessel and Edouart conversed, so it was for the best that Roderick gave the orders.
“What was that all about?” Mazkha asked him, as Roderick began to move off in the direction of the tents.
“Von Kessel’s never been fond of help outside mankind,” Roderick said.
“Nah, not that, meant that thing you said about orc fightin’. You said you’ve seen orc’s attack before or somethin’?”
“I’ve been on the wrong side of an orc blade in my time,” Roderick explained. “And a siege or two as well. Most recently, I came upon some destroyed orc siege engines outside of a city in the middle of a desert, far to the south of here. If greenskins were responsible for Cassel, we’d know about it.”
“You’ve been all over the continent, haven’t you?” Mazkha mused, looking him up and down. “Ya just get more interestin’ by the second, little knight. What were ya doin’ all the way down there?”
“My duty to the Empire,” he said, which was mostly true.
“If that was a way to try and deflect my curiosity, ya did a horrible job. Now I’m even more interested. I’ve heard of the Southron deserts, they’re a long way away from the Empire. What got you boys to travel so far? Gold? Some weapon that could turn your little Empire round?”
“If you truly think that’s the reason, why would I admit it to you?” he asked.
“Ya got a point there, Roderick,” she laughed. “Alright, but answer me this. What was it like? The desert?”
“Hot, dusty,” Roderick shrugged. “What of it?”
“What of it?” she mocked sarcastically. “I’ve never been outside the borders of Brettonia. Come on, describe it for me. And put some effort into it, will ya?”
“Very well,” Roderick replied. “Imagine a clearing that stretches beyond sight, covered not in grass but in ankle deep sand. The wind has a hot bite to it, and it carries the dust into every breach and gap in your garb. All around you are windswept dunes carving layers of humps in the earth, and the dunes are all around you, and that’s all you see, leagues and leagues of empty land, with the sun beating down on you like a physical weight. Half the world is blue sky, the rest a burned wasteland.”
“Sounds morbid,” Mazkha commented.”
“On the contrary, it was a very quiet place. Almost sombre. There was a beauty to the emptiness, with nothing but the sound of the wind and roiling dust, it was like all the world had vanished away and my woes with it. Of course, Skyseeker was chatting up a storm each chance she could get, but it had its serenity.”
“Skyseeker? Who’s that?”
“An… old friend,” Roderick stammered, quickly moving the conversation along. “So you’ve never been beyond Brettonia?”
She cocked a brow at him, but didn’t press the subject. “Well, technically I have. Been on a few raids that took me into Athel Loren, Tilea too, but it’s all just mountains and woodland, and we got plenty of that here. “It’s nice to hear someone took about something that ain’t trees and meadows. You pain a good picture, little knight. I can see how a humid environment like that might get to ya.”
“It’s beyond humid, I was boiling in my armour the second I got there. Don’t think you could’ve fared much better.”
“Considerin’ we orcs don’t layer ourselves in clothing like you do, I beg to differ,” she added, gesturing at her body. Her figure was filled out with muscle, as was befitting her giant stature, and much of it was exposed to the air. Her simple furry vest and padded gauntlets left much of her olive skin exposed, her biceps the size of his head. Her abs weren’t covered, twin rows of chiselled muscles flowing down a slim torso, before a leather belt and pants covered her waist. Despite her brawn, her figure was lithe and feminine, her fat and muscle concentrating on her rounded thighs and chest, the latter of which was easily bigger than the skull of the boar she rode in on.
“You’d still have to deal with sunburn, considering how much skin you’re showing…”
“Are you checkin’ me out, little knight?” she teased, flexing her arms above her head, putting her washboard abs and heavy bust on display that came off as distinctly purposeful. “My little brother gets awfully defensive when one of the orcs comes onto me, you should be careful where you look.”
“In your dreams, Mazkha,” Roderick chuckled. “I’m spoken for, unfortunately.”
“A wife?” she asked. “So that’s why you’re eager to get back home.”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “I… lost her not too long ago, and I’m trying to find her.” Some of us are, he thought with a bitter expression.
“Ah, a friend with benefits, is it? Don’t worry, ole Mazkha will keep ya company till she comes back.”
He shook his head, her blatant flirting making him chuckle beneath his breath, but he soon turned dour. It had been near a week since a raven had been sent to Wilfred, and there had been no reply. Wilfred may not have had ink and quill to write back, but in the past he usually sent the bird back as an unspoken gesture that he had received the message, but all was silent. Maybe it had been brought down by arrow, or maybe it had never found him. He couldn’t still be searching the coast after all this time, he would have at least made his way back by now, and it was starting to worry him dearly.
“What’s with that look, Roderick?” Mazkha asked, bringing him back to the present. “You might be spoken for, but I‘m not…”
“It’s nothing, just reminiscing,” he said, waving away her comment. “I need to go set a perimeter watch. We’ll talk later.”
“Good luck with that, my boys will be comfortable sleeping outside of this killin’ ground,” Mazkha said, giving him a friendly wave as he moved off to rally the men. “Yer welcomed to join us, if ya ever get tired of that asshole Captain of yours!”
Roderick had his reservations, but if one could ignore the lingering stench, settling in amongst walls of brick and oak logs was a welcome change. As the afternoon receded, the night was slowly pushed back by the glow of several scattered campfires, and even the burning of the few intact hearths that had survived the sacking of Cassel, and the smoke chimneys that rose into the sky were not from ruins but communal campsites.
It took some time to find Edouart, for the knight and his retinue had seen that the fallen got a proper burial, the knights setting about digging graves in the clearing that surrounded the town. Roderick posted a few of the sailors to help, and while they were begrudging to help, they did as he bade. It only stood to reason that they should lend the Brettonians a helping hand, and Roderick assured them Edouart would have done the same, had they been crossing the Empire’s lands.
The knight sent off the fallen with a few words, and while most o the prayers were directed to the Lady, Roderick and the Imperials stayed politely silent throughout. Roderick did not see Von Kessel or any of his officers in attendance.
When it came the time to make the burial, a handful of Brettonians set about the task with shovel or sword, since their was few of the former to spare. The Crickets and nocturnal creatures of the woods were out in full by the time the task was nearly complete, the world beyond Cassel falling to darkness. As the last of the bodies was covered over in a patch of dirt and rock, something caught Roderick’s eye.
Beneath the collar of the corpse’s tunic was a scar, a nasty chest wound concealed beneath the fabric. It cut up and around the pectoral, twirling into a little looped circle. The gash must have come from an axe from its size, but that was an unnatural transition for a battle wound.
“Hold on,” Roderick said, stepping up to the grave. Either the knight didn’t hear him or did not care to listen, and his shovelled another lump of dirt onto the body. “I said halt,” he added, seizing the man’s shovel and tossing it aside.
The Brettonian said something in a language Roderick didn’t understand, but he could tell from his expression it wasn’t courteous. He ignored him and stepped into the grave, which sank into the ground up to his knees, Roderick using his gauntleted hand to clear away the loose soil. The knight snapped some crude remark, and had raised a mailed fist. He may very well have struck if Edouart had not approached, catching the man’s fist and ordering him away.
“Roderick! What do you think you are doing?” Edouart demanded. “Get out of there at once, the dead should not be disturbed so.”