Bismarck Cain's Story

The sun was rising, signaling the start of the day or perhaps the end of one depending on one’s perspective. The warm rays of sun gently blanketed the world and chased away the chill of the fall night. It was going to start snowing soon. The seasons seemed to be going by so fast as of late across Valein and Roune. The chirps of the birds began to flit across the sky and the regular hum drum of the day spread and soon, everyone had to leave behind their dreamland and face the day that would not be ignored. From a distance, the scene was peaceful and colored by the lives that passed and intertwined with one another.

It wasn’t peaceful though.

War is on the horizon. The sleepy towns waking from slumber were existing in a semblance of life but they were really just surviving. The kingdom of Valein was struggling to keep Roune at bay and Roune was pressing further and further into their borders. Soldiers were everywhere and the people were getting anxious. When would the war finally end? At this point some of the vassal didn’t care who won just as long as someone finally did. It really was a sorry state of affairs on both sides of the line.

It had been centuries since Roune last truly invaded Valein and the King’s Sword created. Most believed the sword to be a simple fairy tale but the rumors have begun circling again. Was the weapon real? If it was, where was it now? A sword that powerful could end the war if it was ever found. Without it, it looked like it was only a matter of time before Roune finally took over Valein. Looking for the sword was just a folly, probably only useful in the fact that it distracted both kingdoms.

And through it all, the King’s Sword waits for its turn to play into the events of the world. Alone, asleep, and silent, it waits. Long forgotten in the Despi Mountains near the border between Valein and the ‘Mist Lands’, the land of the unknown and death. It was near equal distance between the kingdom of Roune and the mainland of Valein. Though the Despi Mountains were technically part of the Valein kingdom, few lived around the mountain for superstitious reasons. It was said that anyone who entered the mountains never found their way back. But it is just superstition. Who knows what really goes on in its depths.

It is in this desperate affair that our story begins; two kingdoms locked in a struggle for survival and a weapon with enough power to make it anybody’s game.

Kingdom of Roune's foreign base of operations, conquered city of Augustgrad

"Gather round, my comrades. My injuries have caused me to take a temporary leave from the front lines but fear not! I had simply done so in order to regain my strength. The defeat at the treacherous mountain paths may have left a permanent mark on me and our forces but the entire battle itself was not lost.

Indeed, in my expedition there, I have come across an interesting piece of information. The people of Valein possessed an artifact; a sword lost in time, one that can bring this war to a swift end in our favor, if we are to seize it. The ancients spoke of it and legends were passed down in honor of its power. It is rather unbelievable and even I find it hard to believe at times. But the people claim that it is true and the way the knights fought to defend the pass also serves as testament to this.

However, it is not a simple matter of walking in and claiming it from its slumber. For I heard that the sword possessed its own will and that only the purest of intentions may it be good nor evil could fully draw out its power.

So I'm sending you: Warriors I handpicked myself in order to claim this weapon. Do not falter. Do not fear this weapon's power. Do so, reminding yourselves that you're not doing this for me but for Roune. Do so for your own honor and the prosperity of your kingdom. Do so for the sanctity of your home to which you've fought so hard to raise it from destruction."

The messengers finished relaying the message to the knights stationed at the other territories, knights who were among the ones chosen to retrieve the sword. "The King himself will resume the attack on the front lines. The expeditionary force is to report and return back to Augustgrad for further instruction. Message delivered!"

---

Kingdom of Valein, Keep of Telematros, Interrogation Chamber

"My brother Vartanil...

I had been held in the Keep for questioning and some disciplinary action. I was tasked with the defense of the eastern wall perimeter and though our forces have succeeded in driving the soldiers of Roune back, we had to destroy the drawbridge in the process, preventing further means of travel through that side and hindering access of any possible reinforcements coming in from the Eastern Border, assuming there are any.

We were left with no choice. We simply couldn't risk letting the enemy in. For now we'll have to make due with what forces we can muster here and possible reinforcements from the Western Border, assuming the best.

I'm alright. There is no need to worry for my well-being. My sentence should be up in two days. If not--no. Let's not assume the worst. Take care and avoid traveling through the east for now.

Your sister, Serena..."

Serena finishes a small letter to be sent back home during her short-term detention for destroying the eastern drawbridge. It was a last minute decision as the forces of Roune had advanced too far and it was the only way she can stop them from pushing in too deep. However, the deed had offended certain sentiments among the merchants who relied on shipment and trade from the East. For formalities sake, the knight in charge had to be detained, if only for a short while. However, no terror is probably greater than the anger and dissatisfaction of the civilian populace, having caused the fall of earlier kingdoms and regimes. It is no easy manner to appease them and their expectations are starting to get more and more imposing with each passing day.

"Lady--your presence is requested by the Alliance." The warden informs her suddenly.

"Is my sentence up?" Serena asks in a joking manner though the warden didn't seem to take too kindly of it. The state of affairs have left everyone on edge.

"I have heard no such order. They only told me to inform you that your presence is required for now. You'll probably have to return to this cell as soon as the meeting is over." The warden informs her.

"Is that so? Well, would you kindly deliver this letter to my parents?" Serena tried requesting but the warden had already started walking off as soon as he had unlocked her cell. "It was only a small request..."

Assembly Hall, Officer's meeting room

"Serena R. Everild of the 14th Light Cavalry division. I heard I was summoned?" Serena introduces herself formally as per the customs during this kind of meetings. Most of the other commanding officers were there though as she recalls, only the king could summon this kind of meeting.

Routa Belvadear Cain

Routa pulled his black and silver helmet off his head and stood up a little in his stirrups. It had been a long while since he had seen his father, only communicating with the man via messenger and he was eager to see him in the flesh again. The last message had indicated that the strong king had been injured and a battle lost. He was worried about his father though he wouldn't voice it out loud and make his father or himself appear weak. He didn't know the extent of the injury or where he had been injured. The message had be painfully vague. From his current vantage point he couldn't see his father but he did see the man's tent set up. He didn't see any tell-tale sign of mourning or anything so he had to assume the man was well.

Routa's apple red hair clung to his face thanks to being stuffed under the helmet for so long and from the sweat. He shoved the strands way from his face and looked back at the men he was leading with a gaze as deep as the ocean depths. He motioned them forward and they began to descend towards the camp; the banner of obsidian contrasted sharply with the bright morning sky and the silver gryphon insignia shone brightly, marking him and his men as part of the kingdom of Roune. The last thing Routa wanted was for the camp to think they were the enemy come to ambush them in their time of rest.

The young prince slowed his men once they reached the camp and cries of joy reached them. Routa's lips tugged into a smile and he waved at the men he passed who each gave him a bow or a brotherly salute. "All right men, at ease. You deserve a warm meal and a couple of hours of rest," he announced to his riders before he swung his leg over his bay warhorse. He gave a light groan and stretched his body. It felt good to be on his own feet again. He patted his faithful companion before he handed the reigns to his page. Before the young boy could scurry off and tend to the prince's horse, Routa gripped his arm. "Where is my father?"

"He's in his tent, my lord," the boy answered, gaze fixed upon the man's shoes.

"Thank you." Routa handed the boy his helmet and headed straight for the decorated tent. The guards at the door each gave him a nod and a 'welcome' as he approached.

"Father?" Routa called as he pushed the flap aside to enter the large area. "I have news for you from the Eastern border," he began. He knew his father had sent him and his men to cross the bridge there but, unfortunately, the bridge had been collapsed before his men had reached it. The damn Valein had foreseen them using that pass to try and surround the army camped there. If Routa had managed to cross, he was sure his father would not have lost the battle. He just hoped his father wouldn't be to angry with him. There was nothing he could do.

Kingdom of Roune's foreign base of operations, conquered city of Augustgrad

Mornings weren't exactly easy to greet. Looking out, all seemed to be quiet as usual but the old King felt this small chill, nibbling away at his spine. The fog of war hangs heavy and he can't help but feel slightly uneasy about the whole affair. It had been quite a while since he fought any force head on in open battle. With the opposing kingdom cornered, the whole affair had now turned into a battle of attrition. He once reasoned that once resources start to become scarce, Valein will soon fall. However, he had not expected his opponents to drag this battle out this long.

"Sire? Is everything alright?" One of his commanding generals snapped him back to their current discussion.

"Yes. Now where were we?" Before they could carry on, another presence entered the room, catching the other soldiers' attention. It was the prince, his son, probably around to deliver some news. "Tarry a little." He motioned for his forces to carry on without him as he listens to what his heir has to say.

"I have news for you from the Eastern border,"

"Ah yes. I recall leaving matters to you there while I recuperate. Well, I'm listening." Bismarck placed his rather large hand around his son's shoulder. The knights he summoned haven't reported yet, leaving him with some time to converse with the young man which he saw less as the war dragged them further away from home. He realized he still had the visor on, probably making him look a little intimidating.

"Ah! Pardon the visor my son but I'd rather that you not see my face yet. Honestly--of all places to leave a permanent scar...it had to be my face. The Valein Knights are not without skill." Bismarck laughed, a little unexpected from a man of his visage. "Allow me this little vanity. So, how's things on the front?"

---

Assembly Hall, Officer's meeting room

The King himself had requested a summon. It wasn't an entirely new experience but they seem to be having quite a lot of these lately, most of them having to do with the recent embargo with the lands lost to Roune and the progress of the ongoing siege.

"Yes...I have a matter to discuss with you. But I'll put that aside for later, when my elder son arrives."

"I understand sire but first, allow me to apologize for the recent mishap at the Eastern Wall though I would like to take this opportunity to say that it wasn't without reason. At that time, that was the only way we could've stopped Roune's advance. We were outnumbered. If only more troops were spared for the defense, we could've defended the fort without resorting to such tactics."

Serena gave a short glance at the other nobility in the room. From what she observed, Roune holds a considerable edge when it came to organization. They were prepared. While most of their forces were distributed oddly, and in different frequencies. Much of them were being used to defend private land to the point that even the perimeter defenses were starting to thin out.

Marie ran along the tree line of the recent battlefield. Keeping to the shadows, she pulled her cowl up, and examined the remnants what what could have only been a truly nerve racking battle. And it was recent too. Marie felt a shiver of excitement pass up her spine, and under her cowl she smiled. A fresh battle meant, fresh loot, and fresh loot meant, well, it didn't really mean anything, but Marie didn't really care; as long as there were spoils aplenty she could care less about all the actual fighting. In fact, only a few minuets earlier, some Valein soldiers had destroyed the drawbridge just to keep the Roune's out. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it had stopped their advance. She laughed silently, it didn't matter to her as long as there was treasure to be looted, and trinkets to be sold; she personally hoped that this war would drag on longer, so she could increase her wealth.

Finally slinking from out of the shadows, Marie approached the first lifeless body. From the armor, she could tell they were from Roune. Pushing the man over, she began to search his person for anything that could either fetch a nice price in a market, or was just shiny enough to catch her eye. Locating the mans money purse, she emptied the contents onto her hand, and satisfied with her find, stuffed it into one of her many coat pockets. She continued on when she had thoroughly looted the body, and moved on to the next. She worked quick, making sure to check everywhere for hidden trinkets, and treasures, while at the same time making sure never to staying the same place for too long. She continued across the battle field like a plague, approaching men, and leaving them with only the clothes and armor on their backs.

Marie didn't stop until her many pockets were practically spilling with treasure, as she retreated back to the cover of the brush. She continued to move until she reached a clearing near the Valein's keep, and sat down to examine her spoils. "Oh, your a pretty one!", she exclaimed, raising a small jade ring up to the light. She smiled at the way it sparkled in the suns light, and slid it on her own gloved index finger. She then withdrew a silver necklace, and gasped as she held it up to the light, "Gorgeous, just gorgeous. I am going to keep you", she said placing it into one of her breast pockets. She perked up suddenly, "What? Oh of course none of the delicious treasures could ever compare to you Charlotte.", she said, pulling her unusual weapon off her hip, and caressing it lovingly.

---

Varil sat by the fire with some of the other mercenaries that had been employed by Roune in their conquest. He took a slow drink from his mug, and studied the fire deeply. The previous skirmish had yielded interesting results. Many men had fallen, but they had managed to push the forces of Valein back past the river, and now they waited for orders to be given.

"Hey Varil, you waiting for the broth to get cold?", someone said, jerking Varil from his thoughts, and causing the other mercenaries to laugh.

Varil smiled, and accepted the bowl from the man across the fire, "No, just waiting for you all to burn your tongues, that is if it ever stops boiling", he said, earning a few more laughs from the circle of mercenaries. He raised a spoonful pu to his lips, and blew on it to cool it before he filled his mouth and began to chew.

"Message for Varil Jenaqu from his highness, Bismark Cain, high king of Roune", someone behind Varil said, just as he was raising another spoonful to his mouth. As Varil turned the messenger began to relay his message as Varil continued to eat. His eyebrows furred as he listened, the King wanted his services specifically, in addition to presumably other knights; but what use could a mercenary be in finding and taking a sword from Valein. When the messenger finished relaying the message, Varil paused his eating, , "Am I to meet Cain, and where?", he asked, and the messenger told him. Varil turned back to the fire, "Tell him I will be on my way, just as soon as I am finished with eating", he said, and the messenger nodded and left.

When Varil had eaten his fill, he stood up, fastening Gatharin, and Fairblood to himself, and shouldering his ruck sack. "Good friends, I bid you farewell", he said, slightly bowing.

"Your actually going to search for this, magic sword?", one of the mercenaries asked, as Varil turned and began to walk away.

The King has summoned me. I should at least find out what this is all about, he said over his shoulder, and set out in the direction of the main camp.

Liatris

A sweet tune echoed through one of the smaller camps running against Valein, the soldiers drank from their mugs and stared at the beautiful golden haired boy. His hands flowed through the many holes of his wooden flute sewing an impromptu melody that would ease the pained and calm the noisy.

Bards were not normally seen through war camps but for Liatris, it was a good way to earn some pocket change, no matter how immoral it is to take from the dead. He did not mind as if fate were to strike him down-then so be it. The dead could not take their gold coins to bribe the undead boatmen to sail them to heaven and leaving it would just be a waste. His breathe slowed and the sound of the wind instrument became quieter and quieter; it melted into the light breeze and he allowed the song to sink in before taking his lips off of the instrument.

The broken spell became apparent as the volume of the soldiers increased once more, drinking contests came out and meat was devoured. Many commended the young man who gave a bright smile towards them and he would have eagerly chatted with them if it were not for the straight standing fellow by the tents boring his eyes into him.

Slipping his instrument through his sash and ribbon around his waist he half galloped over. His hand smacked against the back of the taller person. “You stared as if romanced, searching but by not my heavenly tune but by my mortal worth. What do I owe such a fine feathered gentleman?” Liatris smiled with pearly whites earning the opening and closing of the other man’s mouth like a bewildered goldfish.

“Come now! Brave angel of the mortal realm on whose valiant god might you be representing” he asked, not so quietly. Some soldiers chuckled calling the young male a tease for surprising the poor messenger-who took a moment to interpret the strange usage of words.

“How exciting! Truly an adventure worth a thousand nightly tales. I shall see to it that the mighty ghost armor shall witness my glorious appearance on a swift steed of flight,” he winked at the messenger who had uttered the message with a trained eye on the youthful man.

With another encouraging slap on the back the messenger was ushered to leave with the rambunctious male towards the main camp, with a laugh he flung his hair back allowing the sun's rays to bounce off of it in blinding specks of light. What a treat it was to be invited over to the main camp by the king himself!Liatris had not expected to be so handsomely popular enough to be acknowledged. The feeling was happiness even if it meant being thrown as a search party to find a sword that has long been called a myth and legend.

From a distance as he trailed after the speeding messenger, a familiar face from afar came into view. Spiky blue hair became clearer through his approach, he called out. “Warrior-for-hire heyho! What bringith thee to the lair of this mighty web?”

Routa Belvadear Cain

Routa found himself looking his father up and down, seeking anything that would give away an injury. He couldn't quite see anything on the man but he did find it rather curious that his father had kept his visor up. He knew his father to take the visor off during counsel meetings such as this. He glanced at the other advisers in the room as they began to talk amongst themselves before he turned back to his father. Upon hearing why his father kept his visor on, Routa gave a light nod. What kind of scar did those knights leave on his father's face? Would he go blind? Was it really bad? Damn his worry and curiosity! It wasn't his place to question his father and king here. He would have to squash his worry for another time. And now he was going to disappoint the man to boot.

"Things on the font aren't as good as we hoped, unfortunately. As you ordered, I took my men towards the Eastern border. In the distance I saw one of the Valein knights and their forces massed around the bridge. We tried to hurry, but unfortunately they were able to destroy the bridge before we had the chance to cross. They have effectively defended the pass," Routa answered and grit his teeth. He clenched his fist and didn't look up at his father. He knew there was nothing he could have done but he had to ask himself, what if they had moved faster, stopped less? They might have reached the other side and defeated the army stationed there. But then again, without rest the men would have been too tired to fight. "I am sorry that I have failed you. If we had gotten across, we could have surrounded the army and had a major victory."

He needed to think of other things besides his failure and there was something else his father had mentioned in his message. The young prince shook his head and did look up at his father then. "I got your message about this fabled sword... if it is true that sword could affirm our victory over Valein and prove we have the divine right to lead. But if it isn't true, then we were on a wild goose chase. What if it is a Valein ploy to get us to separate our men?" he asked then. "Do you have an idea of its location and who you are going to send after it? Besides the sword, what plans have I missed at the counsel? I'll do whatever I can to make up for my failure at the Eastern bridge."

"Things on the font aren't as good as we hoped, unfortunately. As you ordered, I took my men towards the Eastern border. In the distance I saw one of the Valein knights and their forces massed around the bridge. We tried to hurry, but unfortunately they were able to destroy the bridge before we had the chance to cross. They have effectively defended the pass, I am sorry that I have failed you. If we had gotten across, we could have surrounded the army and had a major victory."

His son answered in some sort of hesitant and solemn voice, though results weren't exactly beyond his expectations. At any case, he was rather incensed that any of his generals seem to approach him to report failures with punishment in mind.

"I see. If that is the result--then it is a failure of the head commander--your king himself which is to blame no? Ultimately, the honor falls upon the entire army and with it, all the failures we'll accumulate along the way. No one is singling out anyone in this matter. So do not let that mantle of shame hang on your shoulder all the time."

Bismarck let his mind wander for a bit. Destroying the drawbridge...Valein Knights also have their fair share of tenaciousness and cunning. Why couldn't he have predicted that? Had he underestimated their spirit? Well, that's what they have the backup plan for, he reasoned against his doubts.

"I got your message about this fabled sword... if it is true that sword could affirm our victory over Valein and prove we have the divine right to lead. But if it isn't true, then we were on a wild goose chase. What if it is a Valein ploy to get us to separate our men? Do you have an idea of its location and who you are going to send after it? Besides the sword, what plans have I missed at the counsel? I'll do whatever I can to make up for my failure at the Eastern bridge."

"Which is why we're sending a small expeditionary force after it instead, mostly comprised of those whom we've recruited along the way. Mercenaries may be hard to manage but I'm sure they'll do fine. I was also hoping that you'll take part in this while I resume leading the attacks on the front. It's a compromise that works. Besides, we won't be getting anywhere trying to take the wall down with sticks and swords. The sword supposedly lies dormant in the mountains so I advise you all to travel light."

Still, another concern is the validity of the sword's existence--as his son pointed out. Though there was no room for doubt anymore--not after he's gained some inside information from the armies branched across the kingdom.

"I have heard that things are not alright within the Valein Royal Family. One of their sons have left and gone by himself. This is the only thing that I can think of which will tempt him to do just that. Otherwise, why would anyone desert their line of duty in the middle of a war? Heirs are always eager to prove themselves, like I was once."

---

"Now, has any of you heard of the legend of the King Sword?"

Deep inside, Serena was a little dismayed at how the circumstances had forced them to resort to this measure. In a way, it felt like that their King also had little trust in them. Her recent victory against the forces of Roune, something she wanted to show as a reminder that they are fighting still was only used to buy time. Nevertheless, she wasn't in a position to disobey orders.

"I will therefore send my son, Cassian Valein Courtsmen to seek out this weapon. He shall be accompanied by the knight Serena Rose Everild for added measure. I shall return to the front lines, where I belong with my knights to try and force back the forces of Roune to hold up- at least until my son comes back."

"It will be done then." Serena resigns herself to the assigned mission. She shot the prince a short glance before heading back to her own quarters to prepare. Somehow, there was something about the two heirs which gets to her though she didn't know what exactly. She felt hesitant working with them. In the first place, why would Arcturus send his son off on a dangerous mission? Was it to also persuade his brother should they cross paths?

"I don't think I feel comfortable about this. It kind of feels like I'm running away." She eyed her sword propped at the corner, reminiscing about her family. "What would you have done in this situation, Vartanil?"

"Warrior-for-hire heyo! What bringith thee to the lair of this mighty web?", someone said behind Varil. He glanced over his shoulder to see someone coming up the same path as himself; he stopped and waited for the smaller person to catch up. "That's quite the flowered tongue you have", he said with a friendly smile, "I have been summoned to the court of the king, to meet with him about some hunt for a legendary sword. I may assume the same of you?", he answered. Either Cain was scrapping the bottom of the barrel, or he had other plans set for the future; Varil wondered if the war was really bad enough for Cain to summon this small man. "I hope to find out why we are to be sent to search for a magic sword. Personally I do not believe such a thing even exists. If such a did exist, it would have been found years ago, Varil said chuckling to himself. He addressed the man at his side, "Pardon me, but we have not formally introduced our selves. I am Varil Jenaqu, at your service.

Liatris

“Ahhh yes! The sword of legends, within the right hands a person could rule the entire world!” he gave the soldier a friendly pat on the back. “I’ve been summoned to search for the majestically glorious myth as well. I assume we can be called comrades at arms then,” he pointed to the sky light heartedly as they traveled towards the main camp, “fated comrades that are bound by a mission of destiny and world righteousness!” The messenger that had been with Liatris sped up his pace so that he stood at least several meters away from the two , most likely not wanting to bother with the ridiculous ramblings of the blonde bard.

“Pardon me,but we have not n formally introduced our selves. I am Varil Jenaqu, at your service.”

“Just Varil Jenaqu?” he tilted his head towards the male, “Not Sir Varil Jenaqu of the Thousand Seas or THE Varil Jenaqu the Water Dragon Slayer?”he jested in a serious tone. Upon arriving in this part of the lands when he met a mercenary they seemed to like calling themselves extravagant names: Axebreaker, Seeker of Truth or by some other title of grandeur. Liatris loved big named titles, which was one of the reasons he liked mercenaries; if he had not been trained to work solo he would have loved to become a mercenary. A band of friendly men and women that gather together for the greater good-or greater need- working together to accomplish missions of extreme wealth revolving around powerful influences. Sweating together, training together it was a lovely sight from the shallow point of view of a distant watcher. So he was clearly surprised by the humble introduction of the blue haired male.

“My name…well my name comes in various forms, shapes and colors-a great deal many colors. Marry! I’ve been mistaken for a doe eyed maiden at one point by the name Lia,Tris,and by the god’s name Stephanie!Where did they get the name Stephanie from!?” the male flung his hands in the air. He took a deep breath before turning back to the mercenary. “But you my good sir-good acquaintance thou may call me Liatris,” the blonde said much more calmly after the build up.

The younger male’s first thought s on his new companion of interest was that he seemed very masculine. Like many true mercenaries, they have that aura of battle stained power, sure his new companion was the same height as him making a bit less intimidating but it did little to diminish this man’s mighty aura! That blood red coat. That spiky blue hair and those envious muscles that may have been hinted from the cracks and peeps through his curious clothing and armor. Certainly very manly. His ash grey eyes removed themselves from his companion with mischievous glint.Up ahead the tents were now visible enough to see the small dents and creases and the people were now easily recognizable.

“Behold the climatures! Here comes the domain of the mystery king that dons that armor of night,” Liatris unnecessarily announced, earning a few looks from the soldiers within the camp as they approached the tents and people. "Come Varil Jenaqu let us see what his kingliness needs of our guardian prescence!"

Tessa Anson

---

Tessa’s breath puffed in the chilly night air. The sun had just fallen, and campfires dotted the small glade just to the side of the mountain pass. The men were tired from battle, and even the reinforcements that had preceded her by only a couple days seemed in need of a good night’s rest. She, and thus Mikael as well, had been sent to evaluate the situation in the pass. Valein troops had barricaded themselves in a somewhat strategic fort, and had been making trouble besides. It had been a couple weeks since Captain Hox had been sent to capture the fort with his men. He requested reinforcements, and, though he received fewer than he asked for, he certainly used them well. The battle was almost done by the time Tessa had arrived to evaluate the situation. That very afternoon, the fort had been set to flame, and the few prisoners were well-guarded in the glade. It was unlikely that Routa would garrison a force here, so it was better to render the fort unusable rather than leave a foothold. Now that the horses had a rest, Tessa was ready to report back to King Bismark. Her presence was no longer necessary here.

She strode over to Hox, who was overlooking the pass. It was a grand view, in these parts. He glanced at her curiously, prompting her to speak, “I will be off, Captain. You can be assured that I will bring a favorable report to the king.” They briefly saluted, and Tess strode to her horse, mounting in one smooth, familiar movement. She rode nearer to Mikael, gently calling his name and possibly interrupting his chat with some random person. She rode off without looking to see if he followed. Even if he had not heard her, she had no doubt he would realize she was leaving eventually. Until then, she did not mind leaving him slightly behind. If nothing else, it could be amusing.

Soon, her squire caught up and they road together through the narrow pass. Though Tess seemed at ease, her eyes never stopped roving, seeking any sign of danger. Their ride was uneventful, however, and they soon reached the plains. Tessa urged her horse into a canter, and they quickly ate up the miles to Augustgrad.

---

---

It was about midmorning when they arrived, and Tess headed straight to the command tent. She removed her helmet, holding it on her hip, and wiped strands of hair from her forehead. No matter how tightly she braided her hair, wisps always managed to escape. Though she held the reigns lightly in one hand, she guided her mount between the tents mostly with her knees. The mood of the camp made it rather clear that something interesting had just happened. Spirits seemed to be high. Tess decided to wait to inquire about it, giving her report would come first.

The tents opened up suddenly, allowing for a wide clearing around the command tent where the king currently was. She dismounted, and a young page took the reins of her horse while one of the guards turned and entered the tent to announce her. When she was told to enter, she strode in. Faint surprise sprung over her features as she noticed Prince Routa had returned. That explained the excitement she had noticed. She dropped to one knee before the two, her helmet still clasped against her right side and her left hand loosely resting on the pommel of her sword, pushing down on it slightly so the scabbard would not gouge into the ground behind her. “King Bismark, Prince Routa, I bring news from the Kapea Pass,” she intoned formally, respect evident in her tone. She kept her eyes lowered and waited until acknowledged, before continuing. If told to stand, she would rise to attention, otherwise, she stayed put as she stated, “The reinforcements were effective. Captain Hox had all but dealt with the situation by the time I and my squire arrived. He handled his men well with few casualties, and that fort will no longer pose a threat, my lords.” She patiently awaited further comment or instruction.

Varil laughed, "No, i'm afraid there is not title of glory for me. I am just Varil. My name holds my title, I prefer my name to hold the power to put fear, and awe in men's hearts, not some add on, or title.", he said, adjusted his grip on his rucksack. Varil had always found it a little over the top that people would add things to their name, to sound stronger, or more impressive. His father had taught him that skill should speak more then a man or his name, and Varil had taken that lesson to heart.

He glanced at his blonde companion as he spoke, waiting for his answer. He smiled again, this man was quite the speaker; he had a way with words that Varil had never seen before, spinning elaborate sentences, and answers, with great buildups, to simple questions and statements. It was amusing to say the least. "It is nice to meet you Laitris. I have met few with a tongue like yours, and I enjoy it greatly", he said as they entered the camp.

"Behold the climatures! Here comes the domain of the mystery king that dons that armor of night. Come Varil Jenaqu let us see what his kingliness needs of our guardian prescence!", Varil smiled for the third time at Laitris's speech. He greatly enjoyed the smaller mans prescience, he had an aura of joy, that was almost childlike; something Varil hadn't come across as much when among other soldiers, or mercenaries. It was refreshing.

As they approached the command tent, Varil sighed ;he hadn't expected to be meeting Cain at any point in this war, and he had not been looking forward to ever be facing the man in person. He glanced one more time at Laitris at his side, and entered the the tent with his companion. "Your majesty. I am Varil Jenaqu, the mercenary you sent for", he said, slightly bowing so he could observe everyone in the room.

In that short span of time that father and son spent in talking things over, most of the people who had been called started arriving. Knights and mercenaries--their camp had soon turned into a melting pot with people of different walks of life. Bismarck was rather pleased with the sight.

"I must admit, more have come than what I was expecting." He gestures to some of his squires to accommodate the other people in the room. "What you are about to embark on is an expedition that fills your head with doubt, yes? I'm not really surprised as even I have doubts about this. However, what I've seen on that mountain--the way the enemy fought, the internal strife among the Valein Royal Family--it has given me enough cause to believe that this legend exists. If my anecdotes aren't enough--"

Bismarck turns to another squire in waiting and had him bring a scroll containing a report which he laid out on the table for everyone to see. "Reports from our forces stationed near the main barricade tells that there has been a gathering called by the king consisting of nobles controlling a large percentage of the army. In our years of campaign against Valein, this kind of gathering only occurs once in a blue moon. That, and there are stories of a prince's desertion among the townsfolk in our acquired territories. At this point, we could consider the deserter a faction of his own. Both Valein forces and the prince are going to be looking for it. Regardless if the sword is real or not, this expedition will net us results--"

He temporarily pauses to give the people gathered a glance, trying to make eye contact though his aren't really visible due to the visor he had on. "If the sword is real, we take it in the name of Roune and claim victory once and for all. If it isn't, you engage both the Valein expedition and the prince's. What I'm getting at is that this can either be an expeditionary retrieval mission--or an assassination. If the sword isn't real, we would gain an advantage by ambushing their own forces and possibly capturing or killing the prince. Either possibilities would yield us results and deal a blow to the enemy's morale."

Bismarck finished up, presenting the two possibilities they have. He stood up and firmly addressed the gathering. "Now, does anybody still have any questions and doubts?" He hoped that everyone got his point by this time. Time was of the essence and he hoped to get their own forces going as early as possible.

---

Serena had just departed from the fort where she was detained to gather her things. The warden doesn't seem pleased as shown by the scornful look on his face. Serena wondered why as she would've been released once the heat had died down anyway. Perhaps it is the little joke she made earlier? Whatever the case, her presence obviously bothered him and she left shortly afterwards.

No sooner as she had stepped into the corridor when she heard a loud yelling followed by something striking the wall. Looking on ahead, Serena recognized the form as that of their other prince. That look on his face implies that like her, he wasn't completely in agreement with their mission. She hadn't really talked with any of the king's family members, mainly due to the intimidating and aloof air they carry around. It seemed as if the slightest dissatisfaction would automatically "send her to the gallows". Yes, she was aware that she was thinking that perhaps the boys were spoiled but, almost everyone in the kingdom carries that notion. Nevertheless, she decided she could try approaching him, if they were going to be working together anyway.

"So you find the order unreasonable?" Serena opens up with an obvious rhetoric to catch his attention. "I thought so too. But the way he spoke of it told me that he was dead serious on this quest. Anyway, unlike you, there is nothing I can do to disobey orders from above. Which is why we just have to find some reasoning behind every order we are given."

Serena pauses and takes in some of the cool air before carrying on. "You've done well, if I may say so myself. Which is probably the exact reason why your father would send you. The very fact that he's sparing good forces on this treasure hunt speaks not only of its urgency but also the desperation this kingdom is facing. Don't get me wrong--I still think that all this is unnecessary but--" Serena pauses for a moment before carrying on, hopefully, her audience was still listening.

"Nobody is perfect. Everyone's prone to making mistakes and irrational decisions at the worst of our times. Me, you, your brother--even your father. It's hard times like these that people seem to seek even the tiniest sliver of hope to cling on. Call it blind fanaticism for trusting in the myths of old but, if it would help people get through the day, then--I don't think it's right to deny them that."

At this point, Serena's conviction, which was once a little shaky had started to grow firm. Whatever her doubts, she has to perform her duties. Battlefields aren't the only places where one can prove one's worth, she realizes. And so she continued. "Have faith your Highness. Know that you aren't chosen to be part of this because he thinks you're useless. Rather, it's the other way around. You were chosen because he believes that you're the only one he can entrust this task to. He chose you because he believes that you'll succeed in a task where many others may fail...

He chose you because in his eyes, you're probably the one he believes is worthy enough to be given the task he finds the most important."

Routa Belvadear Cain

Routa offered a nod when his father indicated that he shouldn’t let this failure fall on his shoulders so heavily. What could he have done anyway to prevent the bridge from collapsing? If they had gotten there earlier, they might have gotten on the bridge but then the Valein faction would have finished destroying the bridge with them on it and they would have fallen to their deaths. It was stupid thinking that it was his fault. His shoulders began to droop a little with his relief and his exhaustion for traveling so far without much rest.

When his father mentioned that he wanted him to go on the expedition looking for this fabled sword, Routa’s eyes widened in disbelief. His father would send him off on a wild goose chase? It was one thing for him to hire others and send out some warriors looking for it, but to send him? Right after he said that the loss at the Eastern gate wasn’t his fault? It sure felt like this was some sort of punishment for his failure to take the passage. Why else wouldn’t his father want him on the front lines? Routa was a warrior and a leader of battle if nothing else! Routa took great pride in his ability to fight and lead his soldiers beside his father. This… this request was almost like a slap in the face for the young prince. Did his father care so little about his battle prose that he would send him so far away from the battle? And he was sending him off with mercenaries no less. He found it abashing that he was tossed aside this way. Didn’t he care about his pride and the image Routa was trying to obtain for when he had to lead and his father gone?

At his father’s last statement, Routa looked up at the man and swallowed hard, his hands fisting in his hurt pride. “Father, you just said that heirs are always eager to prove themselves. I am your heir and I want to prove myself to you and these men. How am I to keep in their good grace if I am sent so far away from the battle field? They’ll think me a coward that has turned tail to hide! A true leader should be beside his men in battle, not tucked away somewhere! Why should I be sent to some mountain to chase after this sword? Let me prove my worth to you, to our people, and to our men on the battle field,” he stated then. “I won’t fail you.”

Before Routa could fight for his case, they were interrupted by a variety of people. The tent was quickly beginning to feel crowded with so many bodies. He wasn’t sure he was liking this turn of events. At least Tessa had announced a small measure of good news. They had a little victory to lighten the air considering the other failures and setbacks they had. It was good to know that they could still defeat the Valein army bit by bit. Before he or his father could react to the good news, other two had entered the tent. Routa arched an eyebrow when his gaze settled on the newcomers. One of them looked rather scrawny and gentile almost. The other looked more battle worn as a mercenary should at least. These were two of the men his father wanted to send after the sword? He almost wanted to scoff at them, especially at the fair haired and skinned man. He didn’t look like much of a fighter.

Routa waited patiently as his father spoke to their group before he cleared his throat and rested his hands on his hips, lightly caressing the short swords at his sides in excitement. “I do have doubts and concerns, father. For this company to truly do your will and obtain the sword or capture and kill the young Valein prince, a measure of skill is required. I would wish to test their sword arm to ensure they are worthy of the task. I would not wish for this quest to fail because our men weren’t suited. Should they prove themselves able fighters, I have no qualms about sending them. May I test them now?” he asked his father. “And what of the matter we discussed about this mission before they entered?” he questioned, indicating the conversation of whether or not his father wanted to send him after the sword or not. If his father insisted… he would have to go. Father or no he was still his king but he would wish to stay on the front if given a choice.

Elron Salovy

Elron followed his charge as the prince headed towards the village. He was happy the young man had listened to his advice on the horse but he was a little sad that Alistair sent him off to do the task of bargaining for the horse alone. He wanted the man to learn how to bargain for the beasts since they were expensive. Ah well. Maybe next time. He adjusted the bag on his back and gave a nod. “All righ’,” he answered Alistair.

Once they reached their destination, Elron smiled and inhaled deeply. He could smell the familiar scent of animals, dirt, sweat, and sewage, but he was used to those smells by now. The enticing scent of freshly baked bread and pastries were far more attention calling. And ooh in the distance he could smell the tantalizing hints of pig being cooked in the mud oven beneath the ground. He could almost see the fat melting now and flaking off on his tongue. His stomach growled in its desire to sample the delicacy but he had to keep his head in the game. Now was not the time for that. He had a task he needed to complete for his prince.

“When we’re done, let’s meet at the inn, je?” he said to confirm. When given the affirmative, Elron headed out deeper into the town searching for a horse breeder. There had to be one around here somewhere. He was sure they had good stocky breeds to since farmers needed their strength to plow the fields. It wasn’t long until he did find a stable with a few horses tethered to their stalls. Elron smiled and walked over to the first horse; a handsome young thing with wide shoulders and strong legs. His coat was a light as the ocean sand.

“Oi, traveler, you lookin’ for something like?” a man just as muscled as the horse called out from the little house connected to the tables. “I ain’t seen yous about ‘ere before.”

Elron pulled away from the horse and gave a small bow to the humble farmer to excuse his behavior of coming so close to the horses. “Hail, my good man. Indeed, I am a traveler. Just came ta town ‘n lookin’ for some good horses. These be your magnificent creatures? I have coin if yer willin’ ta sell.”

The farmer rubbed his chin as he eyed the stranger and the horses. The burly man came closer before he leaned against one of the stalls and crossed his arms, a look of appraisal in his eyes. “How many ya lookin’ ta buy?”

“One or two. How much for a horse?” Elron asked. “I’d also be willin’ ta offer my arm ta aid you while I am in town.”

“These beasts are me bread ‘n butter on the farm. 1000 Jovels each.”

“That’s awfully high for a horse. How ‘bout 1200 Jovels for two horses ‘n I work your farm with you?”

The farmer rubbed his chin debating before and he shook his head. “Not ‘nough for what I’d be losin’, Stranger. Yer one of dem charmin’ gypsies, ain’t ya? You’s got them marks on yer face. 1400 Jovels, work the field with me till ya leave and I git two of yer charms.”

“That’s all fine, but I won’t go over 1300 Jovels,” Elron finalized.

“Fine. You can pick yer horses when you finish payin’ me. Do ya have the money now? How long does it take ya to do yer witchcraft?” The farmer asked then.

“Couple of days. I’ll give you the money and charms at the same time ‘n I’ll start workin’ for you tomorrow, je?”

“Sounds fair.” The farmer reached out then to shake Elron’s hand with a tight grip. “What’s ya name, Stranger?”

“Elron. ‘n yours?”

“Blake. Good doin’ business with ya. I expect ya here ‘morrow mornin’ before the sun rises, ya hear? Yer not here ready to work, no deal.”

“Well ‘n good then, Blake. Much appreciated. What kinda charms you want me ta weave?”

“One to charm the damn foxes to keep ‘way from them chickens ‘n one ta scare them crows.”
“I’ll get on it,” he promised. “See you on the ‘morrow.” After a nod, Elron turned away from the farmer with a small smile and headed to the inn to tell his prince the good news. That had been a rather good deal for two mountain strong horses. In the cities those creatures ran up to 1500 jovels each depending on the breed.

It was not the first time that someone had commented on his unique tongue. There were two kinds of people that he had met on his travels that have commented on his speech: there were the ones that would say something nice; then they would proceed to avoid him like a lunatic plague, and then there were the ones that were quite fond of his 'differences' and would become patrons to his secret missions or just someone who enjoyed his stories. The blonde younger male believed his new acquaintance would be the one to enjoy his stories. But now was not the good time to be focusing on such matters as the king himself was speaking to all the gathered mercenaries.

Going on a mystic quest to find the legendary sword that no one had seen for a puzzling amount of time seemed quite romantic. It was like those tales that he would tell or his other acquaintances would tell about brave heroes who, on the world's brink of destruction would save the world by gathering a secret weapon never known to mankind-the process would involve a sparkling friendship, a deadly rivalry and some sweet character development. He loved those stories and told many himself-though he had never been in one of those high scale journeys himself. It was never in his job description but the young blonde was giddy with excitement, oh the tales he could spin, if his groupie were to delve into the depths of a cavern of trials filled to the brim with dangerous hungry beasts and sitting at the back would be the legendary sword. Killing a lone prince was certainly part of his job description, though it was the much lesser priority in his mind-near the bottom in fact. The king finished his speech.

Amongst all the people that had gathered he noticed a red head closest to the king. In fact it was difficult not to notice him as he stood out from the rag tag bunch of sweaty armor and worn leather. He glittered. Liatris had never seen the prince of Roune before, which was hardly surprising. He was just a mere assassin-not that he was incompetent-it was probably just by pure fate that he would never meet a member of the ruling family until now. At one point he had worked for a nobleman of the court although, under no name and a disguise to hide himself from his client. Even though he had traversed through the halls of royalty he had never seen one during his missions.

The prince seemed displeased with their rag tag group. He did not trust them with the sword or killing the prince of Valein.

A test of power was hardly what Liatris wanted to do. It was like showing his cards to the random gamblers in the den, then they know what an individual needs. Of course one of the most terrible scenarios pop up as he was having a brief joyous moment about the sword. Testing a sword hand would mean no killing, no killing meant there was no quick win, no quick win meant that he would be drawn into a long disgusting fight, the male hated sweating for useless reasons. If these men were fated to die finding the sword or killing the prince, then so be it. Was a test necessary?

Liatris sighed at the thought, allowing a face of disgust to cross his features awaiting for the next moment for details.

The meeting was erupting into quite a rabble with those in opposition and those in agreement arguing over the plan. Bismarck felt the stress bearing down on him. There was still a war to be fought and with each passing minute, other parties draw even closer to the point that even their secondary mission should the sword turn out to be mere fiction might be compromised.

"Seize your bickering at once!" The chatter died down as Bismarck tries calming himself after that outburst. "The force will consist of our other recruits from the conquered lands. The main force poised to attack the capital will move forward while you search. You will lead this expedition, no questions asked, while I deal with the main force." Bismarck remarked in a stern voice all the while pointing to the young prince. He was glad that his son had inherited the same will as he did though stubbornness interferes with plans. There is no point in arguing. He will not waste time thinking of things to say in this meeting when he could use it to find a way to scale the wall.

“I do have doubts and concerns, father. For this company to truly do your will and obtain the sword or capture and kill the young Valein prince, a measure of skill is required. I would wish to test their sword arm to ensure they are worthy of the task. I would not wish for this quest to fail because our men weren’t suited. Should they prove themselves able fighters, I have no qualms about sending them. May I test them now?”

"Then do that if it clears your doubts but the more time you spend on testing, the more time that could've been used to catch up to all other forces searching for it are wasted! Take all those willing to go! The quest itself will sort out who are worthy and who are not!" And with those last words, Bismarck turns away to leave the company, heading back to his quarters. Inside, he contemplated on the state of affairs.

"These last few months on the battlefield is starting to cloud my vision..." He takes off his helm and gazes at the mark near his eye where the arrow grazed him. The Mark of the Witch, as he called it, remembering the woman who shot the arrow. "No, I do not believe it is mere madness that they would defend that treacherous pass. Something lies there that's for sure."

---

After that attempt, Serena watched as the heir simply brushed aside everything, responding in a much calmer but more condescending tone than before. She watched him storm off, leaving a few instructions along with it.

"You wouldn't exactly make the list of a hundred people I'll consider tagging along with on a journey that may determine the rise or fall of this kingdom..." She muttered under her breath and went on her way, heading back to her quarters to prepare. There was a letter inside, addressed to her. She found it odd but upon learning that it was from Vartanil, her brother, she decided to give it a read.

"I heard you were to depart on a quest for the fabled sword. A fair bit of warning...from what I can gather, the sword is evil and cunning. People have went mad searching for it. However, I also realize that even this warning will not dissuade you from pursuing it. You are still young after all. So I suggest going on alone. Go through the path through the silent forest. Inside, everything will seem to stay still and time will seem to slow down but do not think about these things. A witch supposedly lives in there and although I do not know if it is true or not, the stories and rumors will hopefully dishearten those who'll try to follow you. Go. Leave before sundown."

Upon reading the letter, Serena sighed. It would be hard to sneak out as the prince said that he'll be expecting her. She could delay herself but Vartanil clearly stated that she'll have to leave before sundown. She mulled things over as she took a quick bath to wash away the scent of blood and the battlefield off of her. Beasts are alert to certain scents in the forest and she wasn't one to take chances.

She readied her weapons. Her bow and arrows are obviously coming along. She had doubts about her zweihander so she decided to take a lighter arming sword she can wield with one hand instead, also forged by her younger brothers. She took nothing else aside from some rations and headed to the stables, arriving before the other soldiers did. As she was mounting her horse, a squire noticed her and asked.

"Departing now, my lady? Aren't you supposed to be an escort for his Majesty?" Just then, an idea entered her mind upon hearing the squires question.

"Yes. But the high inquisitor had ordered me to ride ahead and clear the path for any dangers that might lie ahead. Listen...could you please tell his Highness that the Knight Serena R. Everild had gone on ahead at the request of the inquisitor?"

"Of course my lady."

"Thank you." And with that, Serena rode off before the squire could realize that she hadn't made any mention of the path she'll have be taking. She felt a little bad that she broke protocol and may be seen as a deserter but surely she could change their mind as she returns, sword in hand? Despite her doubts though, she pressed on until she reached the mouth of the forest.

"I'll be lying if I say I'm not scared..." She chuckled nervously as she alighted to inspect the pathway. Suddenly, a cold wind blew past her, chilling her spine and disturbing her horse. The animal seemed to have been shaken up and was trying to get away. As much as Serena tried calming it down, she soon lost grip on the reigns and her horse ran off, leaving her all alone. Defeated, she sank to the ground and saw the small bag she placed her rations in, apparently dropped by the frightened animal.

"Thanks a lot..." She sighed as she realized she'll have to proceed on foot. Mustering all her courage, she headed inside, keeping a hand on her sword lest she gets caught off-guard. She expected beasts or even mercenaries to jump out any second but as the name implied, all was still and quiet. No sound can be heard. An hour of walking passed without incident.

"Perhaps I'm the only living creature in these woods right now..." She glanced at the sky. The sun's light was still strong though even the brightness only emphasized the feeling of isolation inside. Suddenly...

"Good day, traveller! Can I help you?"

A voice. Serena turned around and pinpointed the direction it came from. Drawing her sword, she ran towards it, a little relieved that another human was here but wary of her at the same time. The voice sounded young and feminine so maybe...Was it the rumored witch herself? As she drew near, she was able to make out a young woman calling out to the woods. She seemed harmless enough and Serena sheathed her sword again so she doesn't intimidate her.

"Who are you calling to out there?" She called out as she approached the girl. "Do you...uh...live here by any chance?"

Varil took in every detail as he listened to Cain. If the King, the man who was sending them on this quest, held doubts like any other man about the legends, Varil wondered if the king only half heartedly wanted to send men away. After all, if the war was going well, and the Valeins kept retreating, the more sound strategy would be to keep the hitting their enemy with strong blows; but then again, Varil thought crossing his arms, Cain was king and he wasn't.

At the mention news of Valeins missing prince, Vairl raised his eyebrow's in surprise. He knew full well he wasn't a field commander or heavy strategist, but if the opposing royal family was falling apart, that could prove to be an extremely valuable variable in the large equation of this war. Varil raised his chin, and allowed a smile to stretch across his face. But as soon as it appeared, it disappeared as the prince spoke. Measure of skill, he had, plenty of it in fact. He looked over at Liatris, as the prince referred to each of them respectively, sure the blonde haired male was small, and not like most of the other men around camp, but that didn't mean that he was useless.

Slowly a hand unraveled itself from Varils chest and reached back to scratch his head, straying close to the hilf of Fairblood, while the other hand drifted down near his belt, by Gatharin; if the prince wanted a test, he would have one. Respectfully nodding as Cain left, he turned to Liatris, though he remained aware of the young prince on the room. He was eager to prove himself to his father, and who just so happened to be the king; overall, not the easiest desireable outcome. "Well, my silver tonged friend, I am always up for a hike. A little exercise never hurt anyone", he said with a wide smile, "Though to be honest, I would rather far away from both Cain, and his boy", he added in a lower voice. Varil didn't like to fully align himself with either side, he felt it made connections. Connections he would rather not face in his job at any point in the future; plus the idea of kneeling before a man, without personally respecting him felt wrong to Varil.

Routa Belvadear Cain

At hearing his father's words, Routa quickly stiffened his back. He had already been standing quite straight so tensing himself farther was doing him nothing but making his muscles ache. He could already feel a knot forming in his shoulder but he made no indication of his bodily discomfort. He was far too absorbed in his father's harsh words towards him. His hand tightened on the helm under his arm till his knuckles were white. His face was impassive but his eyes... his eyes were as sharp and cool as ice. A storm was brewing in those eyes. It was obvious his father didn't care for his council or for his preference in this fight.

He was royally pissed off at his father. Here he was trying to show the man that he wanted to lead to lead his men into battle and his father had completely shut him down as if it meant nothing! He wasn't a lowly servant or wayward brat! Why did his father want to send him away? Was he not worthy? What if he died on the road? His father would have no heir left to the throne. Mother couldn't bear any other children. Was his words worth so little that his father could risk him so far away into an enemy's territory as he traced down a fabled sword? It could be a fake! He would have lost so much time and energy for this! He wanted to be on the front lines. That was his place and where he felt most capable to make a difference! Not on the sidelines!

Routa noted his father's discomfort and quickly located the scar near the man's eye. So an arrow had grazed his face. Normally he would have softened at the sight and he would have inquired more of his father's health and ask if he required anything, but right now, his heart was too angry. Besides, if he said anything, he'd bring everyone's attention to the injury and he didn't want his father to appear weak though the man had made him look like an incompetent brat. At least in his view of the whole situation. He couldn't believe his father was giving him such a cold shoulder! Didn't the man trust his arm on the front lines? Why didn't he trust his judgement with these men either? He even backhanded his suggestion about testing them. Didn't he want to send people out there that he could trust to do this? Why hire hands that he didn't know anything about? Fine. If his father wanted to pull his authority card, Routa would let him. He wasn't going to pretend he was happy about it.

"Fine," he answered his father thin lipped. "I'll go after this fabled weapon."

He turned to his knight and the two mercenaries before them. "Liatris and Varil, was it?" he asked as he sized them both up. "It appears that our task is quite urgent. As my father said, let's have this little quest prove who is worthy and who is not. The two of you will go hunting for this legendary sword together. Take the main roads. Tessa, you and your squire will come with me. We'll take the back trails, see what we can find," he ordered. That would keep them a little closer to the borders and nearer the mountain. If this sword was in the mountain, he wanted to find it first and bring it to his father. He didn't want Varil or Liatris to find it first. He trusted Tessa over these mercenaries. A mercenary's loyalty could easily be bought and he wasn't about to let them cut his throat in his sleep. Tessa had been a knight of Roune since she was young and had always fought valiantly and proudly, many times beside him. He still wanted to test these fools sword arms, but it appeared his father would rather have them gone and since he wasn't resting for the night after his long trek back to the campsite, it was better to retain what strength he had left. See? He could be stubborn to. He didn't want to spend another moment in the campsite.

He looked back at his father and sighed inwardly. "Good night, Father," he answered him before he headed out of the tent and motioned Tessa with him. "Go to the horses and wait for me with Mikael. I'll go get us supplies," he announced to Tessa.

He immediately walked to his second in command who was sitting by a fire enjoying a much needed hot meal. He patted his shoulder and squeezed it in a brotherly gesture. "Haren, my father has sent me out with a scouting party to look for that damnable sword of Valein legends. I am going to need you to be my eyes and ears on the battlefield. Keep the mens' moral high for me and make sure my father doesn't hurt himself."

"He's sending you out? Now? You haven't even rested! What about your army?" the man asked a bit surprised.

"Well, you'll be leading it, my brother. Stay safe as much as you can. I don't want to return and find you dead," he said firmly. "And I am leaving now of my own volition. I'll do something stupid if I don't leave now."

"You are doing something stupid by leaving without rest," the soldier counted.

"I'll be fine. Tessa is going with me. We'll rest once we are on the road. Do I have your word about you leading the army in my absence?"

"Yes, my lord. I'll do anything for you," the man nodded. Routa smiled warmly and the two clasped hands and bumped shoulders briefly before Routa got to his feet and stole the man's dinner with a wink. "Go get yourself another helping. I don't think you had your fill," he grinned and started to munch away on the roasted meat he had taken.

"Bye, Routa. Stay safe. I don't want to hear about you going full cocked into a battle and run into a spear," he grinned right back.

Routa just laughed before he waved as he moved away from Haren. He grabbed provisions for himself, Tessa, and Mikael before he returned to the horses and saw Tessa and Mikael. He turned his attention to Tessa and Mikael then. "You two ready to go?" he asked and pulled himself up on his trusty steed.

“The fiery filly and warrior of bones tis hardly the kind of company I would keep near me Bluey,” the blonde haired male addressed his companion. But what kind of great assassin would he be if he had not worked with members of royalty? Such 'noble' and 'honourable' mentions and 'legendary' references, who would not want that? Liatris did not seek the bubble reputation nor the golden metals that make a man's eyes sharpen at the clink of it. There was something much greater than both of these combined, fun-also to him, royals always seemed so stiff, having to follow sets of rules and such and if a servant did not do as one 'mighty' lady or one 'mighty' man might order, they would be set to flames on a trail where, 'looking back' happened every second of the day, it was not his style. He liked to keep looking forward.

The prince had turned to speak to them. And what an honour- although from the looks of it he did not look too eager. The blonde male flashed a toothy smile at the mention of his name. The announcement from this guy was music to his ears in comparison to what he had wanted earlier. Tests? How revolting.

Liatris was quite satisfied with this verdict. No silly test of loyalty, no silly test of courage and no silly needless sparring. For a moment he thought his hands would get clammy.“It seems Bluey we are now real comrades at arms as I have predicted,” he hummed. “How exhilarating! A tale will now be set, stories of you and I shall find their ways through the thousands of seas and across the starry desert lands of our worlds and find a mighty sword that will go along with their destined handler or heroes!”

He sped his way to the tent with a bouncy step. He stopped right before leaving the tent to wait for his new 'partner'. “Come now, Mercenary-Bluey-Hundred-Wyvern-Mountain-Cutter-Varil! We ride now 'lest we waste our virgin time loitering about like buck on an overgrown lump on land!” He exclaimed with gusto. The soldiers guarding the tent entrance turned their heads a little before turning back. Sadly they did not appreciate his energy-how sad.

The thought came to him suddenly. If only he had a horse.

Yes, this start of the journey was missing a horse. The male did not know how to ride a horse-it was never an option for him since he liked making as little noise as possible when splattering someone's brains. He was also more of a ' along the way traveller' with hardly any 'clink-clink' coins. Those were hardly important things to note- it was also missing giant rats. In stories the heroes always fought giant rats in the beginning. Every great adventure started with fighting giant rats, in a basement or storage room.

Not to mention, rat's blood made for an excellent 'ingredient'; he would never say that out loud. “Do you think there will be giant rats along the way? I suddenly desire for those fuzzy loveable hateful vermins,” Liatris placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully.