The Past
Aldhein Fort was the only place between their armies and the southern capitol that posed a significant resistance to His Majesty’s campaign and victory; indeed, a majority of the orders of movement to the southern brigades came stamped with the gold flecked seal of Aldhein’s war room. The general’s strategy had kept Lawrence and his forces at bay for weeks, driven towards boglands to avoid pits dug across open terrain, scattering his men to be victims of cowardly attrition or picked off by ambush. The great war, which had not been expected to smolder past its first winter, was entering a tenth year of chaos and shadow that ruled over the land.
A few miles to the northeast of the fort was a low valley, meandering on its left side into a forest and the other disappearing upwards at a plateau. Ghostly smoke billows rose from the valley but they were indistinguishable from the low clouds of the night.
His Majesty’s armies had been camped there for some time, as the knights consulted each other in preparation of their attack on the fort defenses, which were not insignificant.
Bowman lined the ramparts accompanied by lookouts and squires who would run messages down to the stronghold. Between the crenelations there were large vats of what their scouts believed was oil for the bowman to shoot fire arrows or to ignite enemy battle rams that were to make it as far as the front gates.
A dry moat had been dug around the perimeter of the fort, which formed another land barrier besides the valley and was crossable only by three stone bridges.
The inhabitants seemed to be on high alert, probably having already received word of the corrosive advance of Lawrence’s men. Since having taken refuge in the valley, their scouts reported that only a few had passed in or out of the gates.
Supplies were beginning to run low. It was the farthest that their armies had made it into the southern kingdom, and the more distance they took from the main camp in Desnia the harder it became to sustain the men and stock. Hunting parties were sent out every night to search the traps they’d set, and bring back what they could of game or fowl. Malikai was in charge of tallying their catch.
She stood on the forest side, a short ways from the other knights who were still debating the best approach to the fort. They were huddled over a fire, clad in armor with swords tethered to their waists, as though they meant to attack that very night. Lawrence sat among them, listening.
Malikai gazed at him. Time passed before she caught herself, sharply lowering her eyes. She glanced around again to see if the hunting parties had returned.
At her side, leaned upon a tree, was Arthur der Richard.
He was the last of the eight knights ordained by the king for this campaign. Arthur was more aloof than quiet, electing to stay to himself when not actively performing his duties. Some minutes ago he’d been around the fire speaking to the others. Then, Malikai supposed, having nothing further to contribute, he sought refuge beside the tree. In his hands he held a little string, tying it and slipping the knot free in turn.
They had not greeted each other when he’d walked over. Wondering if perhaps Arthur had sought company, but not sure that a belated greeting wouldn’t appear strange, she asked, “Have we made to a consensus yet?” And, to be less abrupt, “About the fort.”
Arthur paused a moment. He looked up at her, but in the dark she could not properly read his expression. “Nearly,” he said. It was polite enough. He didn’t elaborate, so Malikai simply nodded. Arthur returned to his rope.
Before sunrise, there was an increase in the bustling around the camp. Malikai yawned and blinked her tired eyes. She saw the soldier in charge of the hunting party returning, finally, but the noise she heard was not of men’s jubilant relief at the prospect of fresh meat. There were harsh commands, and a scream cut short. As they approached Malikai grabbed her sword, scanning the group. No one seemed to be injured, their urgency did not hint at an impending danger.
Beside her, Arthur stood as well. It wasn’t until the hunting party was entering the tree line that she saw they were surrounding several people who looked to be locals of the southern empire.
“Knight Malikai,” greeted the soldier, saluting her.
Attaching the sword belt to her waist, she gestured at the frightened captives. “Who are these people?”
“A traveling caravan. We found them while emptying a trap we set near the Wesoddn village. They spotted us as they were leaving and began to approach.”
“Why were you near the village?”
Inclining his head, he responded, “The game has been scarce in our normal hunting area.” He turned around and ordered men to come forward, who were carrying a large boar, with fowl strung from their necks.
Arthur extended his hand to grab the clipboard, recording the new stock. Malikai stepped closer to observe the band, mostly women. “Did they know who you were?”
“I believe they meant to spy on us and alert the fort’s general.”
“Is that what they said?”
The soldier hesitated. “No.”
“Then had they any cause to think you were part of His Majesty’s army? None of you are in uniform.”
“I could not risk it.”
“And walking them through our camp was the better option.” From the corner of her eye she saw a small hand quickly concealed. One of the woman seemed to be desperately using her cloak to shield someone, likely a young child. “Do they understand us?”
“Some.”
The soldier stepped aside as Malikai began to speak.
“Please,” she was interrupted by a man’s voice, an elder among the group, “We are but humble people. We know nothing, we saw nothing. Let us go!”
“Calm down,” Malikai tried.
“I can pay,” said the man. “We have gold, real gold.”
“We don’t want anything from you.”
“Let us go―”
“Quiet,” a member of the hunting party snapped. He struck the old man in his head and he fell down. The other caravanners wept in terror.
“Send him away,” Malikai spoke lowly, in anger. The soldier in charge of the hunting party made a gesture, and the one who’d knocked the man down was dragged off.
By then they’d gathered the attention of the knights. “If I may,” began the soldier, waiting until he was acknowledged, “it would be unwise to let them go.”
Malikai looked at the wretched group. “There’s no reason to harm them.”
“If we let them go, they may talk.”
“Find a place within the camp, and set a guard.”
“We don’t have the food, my knight.”
Malikai turned, and began to study him. “Then why did you bring them here?” she asked.
Before he could respond, Lawrence joined them, but Malikai had seen a deep discomfort pass behind his eyes. She glanced at Arthur to find he was watching her.
“Good harvest?” Lawrence asked.
“Our hunting party was spotted near Wesoddn, they’ve returned with the prisoners,” she eventually responded.
Briefly, he surveyed the men and the others which were obviously foreign. “Is this all of them?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the soldier.
“These aren’t necessary casualties, it’s clear they weren’t meaning to fight,” Malikai said. “Once we have taken the fort, we can let them go.”
The soldier asked, “When shall we do that?”
They all turned to Lawrence. He lifted a hand to his chin, itching the stubble, in a very clear gesture of thinking. When the sun began to light the greyish forest, Lawrence blew out a long breath and then addressed the soldier. “Put them on the west end, don’t let anyone out of your sight. Have our cooks prepare rations for them.” The soldier bowed and turned to perform the deed.
After they were left alone, Lawrence spoke again. “Are you rested?”
“No.”
“Try. You too,” he said to Arthur. “We need that fort, and I intend to have it in three days. If we stay here much longer they won’t be the last to find us.”
Malikai furrowed her eyebrows. Lawrence smiled. “Three days? Shouldn’t we tell the men?”
“Quite the opposite. I figured it would go a little faster with just a few. You all seemed my greatest chance, since you already possess the affinity for discretion.”
“The entire fort?”
“Well—”
“I don’t think so,” Arthur stepped in. He had returned to his spot beside the tree, tucking away the string into a pocket of his shirt and dropping the clipboard on the ground. “Talk to Lydia. We won’t need the fort. Getting the doors open would suffice.”
eight warriors go to war for the Realms, seven come back; they are praised for the battle, endowed with wealth and titles beyond measure, but none of them ever speak of what happened there.
The-Bleu-Bivouac 