Chapter 1: Promises to Make
"I know not who you are. I know not this feeling in which you have filled me with. I see the wind through these trees that you have grown, I hear this song which you have sung. I know not who you are, yet I feel at peace."
***
Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.60
The dry desert air did nothing but accentuate the heat in their words. The meeting had gone poorly to say the least. A royal coterie of guards flanking the Baron and his Chancellor, nothing more than pomp and hot air as they laid that box before the Sultan. Long discussions of appeasement and condolences, lost on the coattails of talks of treaties and future promises.
It was all they could do, the numerous Advisors forcibly keeping the Sultan from marching right up to Lucas and belting him for the news he brought. Advisor Ahmir and an entire delegation killed in Foreign lands, by what was assumed to be a non threat. The fire in his eyes only turned to cold stone when they gave him Yorm’s head. The grotesque thing only earned them the Ire of the Sultan more.
“Do you think this fixes anything?” He asked, slowly turning his back away from the Congregation. “You think bringing me the head of this… Creature, is absolution from your negligence?” Turning back to us he descended his platform, walking toward Lucas, accusation in his eyes.
With a hard poke to Lucas’ chest, he bared down on them more. “You were meant to keep my Diplomates safe. I sent my best man! I sent the one who had my nation's best interest! I sent the head of the Rebellion to your lands for him to never return home! What am I supposed to tell his Wife and Son? What am I supposed to tell my subjects? That their hero was killed by some Goblin in allied lands!?”
"There were unforeseen circumstances, we have already explained this to you." Lucas started.
"Do you think that makes a difference? Is your leadership, your ability to rule so weak as to not be able to protect a single group of people? And you would have me believe that this backwater tribe of monsters was capable of taking down one of your elite forces? Is your nation so weak as to be beaten by common bandits?" The Sultan rose, walking toward the group.
He wouldn't let anyone speak, silencing them with a wave of his hand. The Palace guards leveled their weapons at the unspoken command, only causing their own royal Guard to level sabers and pistols at any target they could find. The air felt still enough to be stone in the lungs. “No, Lucas. No, I do not accept this as a suitable explanation or recompense for the loss of Ahmir. I will take the Lamia Outpost, the news of Ahmir will rip through the Nations streets like a wildfire. No, you have insulted me by trying to cover your sorry hides for your folly. This poor wretched creature died to prove what? That you appear unfit to lead? No, King Berthelot, No, Galus will prepare for war.”
The ambassadors walked back to the Portal Nexus still open in the courtyard of the Palace. Royal guard flanking each of us, heavily armored. Lucas led the front talking animatedly with Michéle, their words drifting to the two Dwarven Kings. Words of “Purge them” “Retribution” and a few others landing heavy of Gjorn’s ears. The audacity of this two faced coward, a word given should be respected.
He turned to The Second King with a look of fury. Halgier sighed, “What are you planning on?” Already running battle plans through his head.
“I am going to need you to trust me. We can discuss the whole thing in private later. What I am allowed to speak of, I will tell you.” Gjorn said, though couldn’t keep the fury and power out of his voice. The stones beneath their feet rumbled with the sound.
The others turned back to the two Dwarves, feeling what he had just done. “Lucas.” Gjorn roared.
The procession stopped in their tracks, Lucas and Michéle waiting as they walked closer. “Bluejay, what is the meaning of this?” Lucas asked, the anger visible on his face. He was no stranger to the antics of the Dwarves, yet to feel such a palpable threat from the man, that was something he never had the displeasure to endure.
The Sultan strolled from his balcony to watch the commotion, setting his crystal glass of bright amber liquor on the glass smoothed sandstone banister. Setting his chin in his hand, his ears perking up at what was said next, chills being sent up his spine as the Bluejay's magic rang horrifying and familiar to his ears.
“I would caution against attacking that goblin clan.” The King’s words bounced off the walls, causing the dust to fall in great sheets. The Sultan's palace now abuzz with activity from the potent use of the Bluejay's magic, many of these soldiers reminded of exactly who was inside their walls.
“Who are you to question me about what I do with the party that has caused this political nightmare we have to deal with now! Do you not realize we are going to be at war with the Caliphate, again, over this?” Lucas bellowed back at him. Clearly his anger had clouded his judgment, not even bothering lower his voice.
“By right of protection. I will not allow you to lay a finger on them as they are now under my protection.” Gjorn said, the weight of his words hitting Lucas in the chest with a hard knock.
He rebalanced himself, speaking again, “Why? Why would you care about some backwater clan of monsters in my country?”
“So you insult the words you gave that priestess? You refuse to acknowledge your word to leave them be? I thought you were better than this.” Gjorn walked straight up to Lucas, despite being a full two feet shorter than the man, he bared down on him with all the authority given to him by his race. “You attack my clan that will be stationed there, and you will be fighting the full force of the Dwarves as well.”
Lucas tried to speak, but Gjorn only cut him off. “I remember what the Gnomes did to us. I remember that our people were nearly wiped out in our civil war, I remember what it is like to be exiled from our homeland. I will not allow you to do the same to their people as well.”
Lucas and the rest of the delegation were quiet for some time, staring back at the two. Turning, Lucas addressed Halgier, “And you, you are a kingdom of Four Kings. What are your intentions?”
Halgier puffed his chest out and huffed. “I stand with my Kin. You attack my people in that village, you will be reminded of how I earned the name 'Warlord'.” Setting a heavy gauntleted hand on his war-axe, not one for leaving his intentions up to interpretations.
The anger on Lucas’ face shifted to a tinge of fear. “Fine, I’ll leave them be. But, I want to discuss this more when we are back on friendly soil. I wish for us all to stay on friendly terms, but, I want a better explanation than that. I think you are hiding something, Bluejay.” The King hissed back at him.
Lucas began walking back to the portal nexus, knowing full well the game those Kings just played. Doing this in front of the enemy, intentionally showing a vulnerability like that would only force him to protect that area more if he didn’t want a war on two fronts. Furious, he passed through the portal. The rest of the procession came along with him with no small amount of trepidation.
“I hope you intend to tell me why we just threatened him like that.” Halgier whispered. “I like that girl in the village, but I don’t think I would go to war for her. Not yet at least.”
“She is too important to lose in such a vapid manner. The Queen would have my balls on a plate for that.” Gjorn said, the anger still burning in his voice.
“Are you ever going to let me in on who this Queen is?” Halgier questioned.
“When the time is right, when the stars align. All will know. She will need to know eventually as well, that is if we can keep her searching for the truth.”
“What are you on about?” Halgier whined, running thick fingers through his beard.
"I suggest you quit that habit, you put up a strong front for Humanity, but you can't hide that soft underbelly. Besides." Gjorn grinned as he turned toward him, "Gives you all the chances in the world to win her heart, I intend to build that hovel they call home into what they deserve. I want to help them build a City to rival Mhuzchet."
"Trying to match your stones to ambition?" Halgier slugged Gjorn hard in the arm.
***
The bright light stung her eyes, born of shadow, a divinity stolen. The cold wind blowing across her chest didn’t phase her as she stood on the peak of the summit. Mind wandering from subject to subject. Slowly losing her grip on the Song she held through her fingers. A song that damned brother of hers forced upon her, she had already taken what she had wanted most.
“I hear her voice again. Eons, and I hear her sing once more.” The voice inside Azu’s mind whispered, always warm, always welcoming.
Azu smiled as she spoke to it, “Syn, why did you make the sun so bright? Why did you make it hurt my eyes?”
The voice laughed sweetly. “So that my children, our children could see the beauty I had made in this world. The Great Mother gave us the tools and material to work with, I simply gave it life and purpose.”
“I’m glad. I still haven't been able to do more than grant them a few of their abilities, not without the Siblings from noticing anyway. I didn’t trust you at first, you know.”
“I know, I understand. I am also glad that you gave my children a few of their rights back to them, they were supposed to be like me.” The voice said, the wings on Azu’s back heating up, glowing like a second sun rising from the mountain peak.
“What would you have me do, Darling?” Azu asked, closing her eyes. Already seeing the image of Neaves broken on the Aquaregia floor before the fountain. “It’s odd, they mean so much to you, I just don’t pay attention to them as much as you do.”
“There is one I want you to give a vision to. Someone I think could learn greatly from Bhal and Xelex’s prodigy, I want you to show her that Goblin’s face, I want you to give her the opportunity to grow, to lead my Children toward The Great Mother once again.”
“Risky, Syn. Very Risky. The others wouldn’t like that. That’s too obvious.” Azu whispered. “What song? I don’t hear the Great Mother’s voice, I don’t feel it vibrate through reality like it did before.”
“Please, My love?” Syn purred into her mind.
“I’ll see what I can’t do.” Azu said, closing her eyes once more. Listening to the prayers her followers offered her, like leaves on an autumn breeze they rushed on by.
***
Halgier stood before the newly built wooden wall along the Skullbrood’s village. Shoddy, hastily built, able to stop firearms, but not forever. Wouldn't stand much of a chance at all against any real artillery, nor that ship that had anchored itself off their coastline. Arelion they called it, it's main guns currently pointed away from the Village, yet he had heard those massive things were not so innocent during the Skirmish. Looming over them as a constant reminder of Galus and their full might. "Let them taste the bite of the Clans next, a Griffin baring its talons to a Boar."
The Clan Rhojic, the most feared of the Dwarven Wandering State, led by the Second King Halgier Avarrson, the "Warlord", had come at the request of their Fourth King. The Mhuzelti Company, Halgier's personal strike force had planted a shield wall planted behind them to stop the Glaion City guard from getting any nearer to them. City was nervous, they didn’t know why Halgier had approached the village with his whole clan in tow. They probably assumed they were here to attack the village. The news from the Desert or the threat made against Galus wasn't made public, not yet at least.
Yet, the public opinion over the skirmish had turned sour after the information spread by the Dwarven informants in the city had done the job, just as Gjorn had wanted. A political move, not Halgier's preferred method for protecting valuable assets, though how valuable this would turn out being was up for debate between Gjorn and the other Kings. Mhuzchet would demand an answer for this decision, a tactical asset for far from home. Though, as he thought about it more, The Warlord could see more and more benefits to having a friendly, fortified, city state next to a potential enemy.
Afterall, the Dwarves had supplemented the Garrison during the skirmish with the village before, only they weren't seen by the goblins. They had been in reserve as a heavy cavalry unit, waiting for the orders to charge from the Chancellor, acting General, Michèle Lafleche. Halgier hadn't known why they were doing this, only that Gjorn demanded to be there on the frontlines. Not particularly out of character, he had earned the name EndSong by the former Caliphate by committing an atrocity. All Gjorn had told him was that he needed to stop something before it started, and for Halgier to see the true incompetence of those they would be teaching.
The captain of the Guard stood at the front of the coterie of soldiers screaming at the Dwarven Warlord to cease and desist. They fell on deaf ears as Halgier approached the gate, axe held out to his side. A foul wind blew across the valley as he walked closer, cold, biting, unnatural. Tearing at him and his company, still he walked to the gate undeterred. Two Champions he assumed stood barring his way through their walls.
A burly monster of a Goblin, long hafted axe not dissimilar to his, beard dense enough to make even his own Dwarven Blood want to walk up to him and toast his greatness. Though, something seemed wrong, a true fury felt in his white knuckled hold on the weapon. He noted the broken iris of his eye, the long deep gash across the same side of his face. The other a much more lithe character, heavy armor only across the chest, leaving her limbs free of weight. Less of the Bear that stood next to her, and more of panther ready to pounce, the lethal air that came from her spear and revolver held pointed down for the moment. Heavy iron rings through her ears and through her nose like one of their War Boars.
A few more goblin fighters ambled out of the trees, spears raised ready to strike. A strange pull on his mind as they spoke to him in their language, avian, flitting and soft. An owl prepped to swoop down on its prey, a kingfisher moments before striking the water. Halgier spoke the one verse he practiced with Gjorn “The Priestess, I wish to see Mother.”
The goblins held their ground, faces only slightly unsettled that a foreigner knew some of their language. Turns out, according to Gjorn, it's based heavily off the ancient Fae language. Easy enough to translate once Gjorn knew the root. The women, muscular, scarred from a lifetime of raids and battles, heavy iron ring through her nose bouncing as she raised her head to answer, “Why, and why bring soldiers?”
He answered in Dwarvish as he swung his axe into the ground, and presented his Saxe to her to take from his belt. “Not for me, not for you, its to be uninterrupted.”
She cocked her head, not understanding what he said, but clearly was disarmed by him knowing about the greeting. Gjorn had told him that to disarm oneself and allow them to take your weapon for its sheathe while still on you was a sign of respect. How he knew that, he wasn't sure, but he knew warriors when he saw one. A certain amount of respect was to be shown. She walked over to him and took his Saxe, he took her spear. The other goblins formed a ragtag rank around them as the front line of the Dwarves also speared their weapons in the ground, and the rearguard was given more shields to fortify their defense.
The brute was joined now by a much smaller goblin, a twig compared to him. Tendons showing through his hands, told him more than enough that this Goblin was a knife fighter, and a damned good one based on the lack of scars along his arms. "My name is Ghet, I am acting on Ilgor's behalf, she is currently not seeing visitors, not while we continue our burials." His eyes glanced down at the armies poised just before their gates. "Why have you actually come here and in clear defiance of the Courts?"
"I didn't realize there were going to be members of your People who spoke common fluently, allow me to introduce myself." Though, his graciousness at this was back lit by the Galcian Military still demanding that the Dwarves leave through speakers and amplifiers.
Ghet, being what he was responded. "You may."
Wide eyed, mouth falling open at that, stood baffled for a moment. Suddenly burst out laughing loud enough to carry back to Galus and back. "It has been quite some time since I have met anyone with that kind of stones! Ghet, I am the Second King of the Dwarven Wandering States, Halgier. I am to extend a hand from my Nation to your People, we wish to see you protected from harm or retaliation by the Government of Galus and it's two faced king."
The Goblin made a pondering gesture, as the brute set a hand on his shoulder. The Woman saying something in the odd the language of theirs, instantly pulling his attention to her. Though, she dampened whatever that had been as she apologized in common, and continued speaking with Ghet. He nodded, and extended a hand out to the Dwarf. His grip surprisingly powerful for his size.
"Welcome to the home of the Family, we will bring you to see the Chiefess." The brute smacked him across the back of the head, an odd look in his eyes. "We will bring you to see Ilgor." Ghet corrected himself. "You may bring ten of your men inside as your Honor Guard. We will have to discuss more for the rest of your men."
As they passed by small fires, huddled around by Goblins grieving over odd stones, the topside of the Village was barren of anything except simple garden plots that had been planted with winter crops at the moment. No buildings, no roads, only foot paths and the sound of quiet sorrow. Halgier suddenly felt like hog, barging his way into this play while it was trying to heal. But, he needed to remind himself that his Nation was here to help. Ghet spoke up as his Honor Guard fell into line behind him, hands off weapons per their custom while acting as foreign emissaries.
He waved a hand to the woman with the heavy iron rings, "This is Cori. She is current Raid Leader of the entire Clan, and the head of Ilgor's personal security." Gesturing to the brute, "This is Knoll, second in command to Cori." Both the Goblins made a hand gesture he didn't recognize, yet thought it was a sign of respect.
"Do either of them speak common?" Halgier asked, as they descended a foot path that had large slate stones hammered into the cliffs to act as a staircase.
"We do, just not like... Ghet." Cori answered, as Knoll simply nodded. "Ghet spent... time with Illy... learned more than us. Getting better." She finished, struggling to find the words. Though, he couldn't help but wonder if they'd have an easier time if they weren't trying to suppress that odd power that grabbed at his attention.
"I see, well you can at least understand quite a bit if not speak it, well done." The sound of metal against an anvil filled his ears, a sudden vison of home flooding his mind. Well, as much as Dwarf could call home as it is, the Valley of Mjona calling out to him like a siren at sea. The smell of forge smoke filled his nose, but what he wasn't expecting to see was a human working a makeshift forge in a small cave on the beach. Nor the few dozen Goblins assisting him with tasks. The final shock to it all, that man was a Calphiti.
"Who is that?" Halgier asked pointing to the smith.
"Family to the Clan, he is protected by us, Dwarf." Ghet turned to face the king. "Take the hate from your eyes. He is the only human we trust right now, and he has been nothing but a gods send to us even since Ilgor found him living in our woods." Halgier suddenly noticed the many goblins around him placing hands on weapons.
"I see, I did not mean to cause a stir." Halgier said with a placating gesture. "What is his name? He seems... familiar."
"He calls himself Caleb." Was all Ghet spoke as he walked past the scene.
"Caleb isn't a Calphiti name, I wonder what he is running from then." It wasn't so much a question, one that didn't get a response anyway, more of an observation as the Calphiti made stared wide eyed at the King and the procession of Dwarves. Clearly recognizing him. 'So he's seen me, or at least heard enough about me to know who I am at least. Not many in Zybtine that can do that. Narrows it down quite a bit.' Halgier thought to himself.
The trio of goblins slowed as they rounded the edge of the bluff, like the ringing of a bell a power washed over the entire procession as a prayer filled the air. "To remember the fallen, the ones who gave all for the Family." Halgier was sure that was not in Dwarven or Common, yet he understood the words.
Their weight, their finality, the sorrow laden truth that needed to be spoken. "Rest now, for your fighting is over." The King and his men rounded around the corner after their escorts to see what could drive a cold heart to beat again. Laid out before the clan as a mass burial, small rafts with corpses resting upon them. Eyes open wide, milky in death, staring out into the boundless skies.
The trio slowed even more as the speaker was faced away from them, staff trembling in her hands as it glowed with an ethereal power. "See now for eternity, see the skies from which we were born, and be born again into that sky bound womb." He could hear her voice trying not to break.
Potent magic filling the air as she strode from each corpse and opened their eyes. Like nothing he had ever felt, similar to what Gjorn did, yet this felt far more primal. Somehow, more real than the tonal magics that the Bluejay used, like a true facet of reality. "See the stars, see them once more for the home they are."
Her voice finally broke as she stood over a young man, a bullet wound through his chest. Her small hands opened his eyes and crashed to her knees when they seemed to bore right through her. "Rest now, brave children. Rest and be at peace, for it is what you deserve." Ghet pulled something from a bag Halgier hadn't noticed. A bottle that he uncorked with his teeth, kneeling down gently besides her, handing it her.
She snatched it from his hands, downing half the spirit at a rapid clip. Cori knelt down next to her and began speaking in that language once more. Though, a much more familiar voice filled his ears as he watched the moment between the goblins. "Warlord, I wasn't expecting to see you here of all places."
That same dry voice, lilted and emotionless. He turned to the Necromancer staring at him, the little girl holding her hand as always these days. Azorez and Talia, apparently the two had taken to wearing matching outfits these days. Azorez had her massive wide brimmed hat with that odd skull still ribboned to the front, ducked low over her face. Despite the cold, she wore a bright yellow and blue wrap around her chest exposing much of her shoulders and midriff, that long flowing skirt billowed out around her like an absurd peacock. He little girl at least had the good sense to have a heavy poncho over the same get up.
"Nor was I informed that the Grave Witch was here." Halgier responded, crossing his heavy arms. "I'm going to assume that you are not here as far as anyone is concerned."
"Not yet, I suppose. Though, I am going to need to send for the Sages soon. This place, these people, they are a hidden gem that I had never expected to find." Rasping out her words as if she hadn't been well for quite some time, nearing close enough that the Dwarf could see the sleepless eyes and sunken face of the only practitioner of the magic of the dead in the generation.
Halgier hesitated, he wasn't expecting anything he had seen. This whole situation, had spiraled out of his comfortable area of expertise. He wasn't expecting to be witness to the tattered remains of what was left of a war torn people, nor to bear witness to his mourning. He wasn't anticipating these same people to be important enough to his Kinsmen King to threaten an ally with war. The shock of seeing an extremely influential political and public figure already here without any kind of authorization. Now, hearing that both the Sages of Huron had an interest here, the damned Heroine of Huron. "This just keeps getting better..."
"I should note, that bottle they are drinking from isn't what you are thinking. I don't want you to think their Commander and Chief is some drunkard, it's an herbal concoction she taught me and I refined just for her. Though, it does also have spirits in it, it doesn't have the effect you think it does." She spoke while watching the Priestess drain the rest of the bottle.
"What does it do then?" Halgier motioned toward the group of goblins with a heavy hand.
"Keeps her on her feet. She refuses to rest while the dead have yet been given the opportunity to. Though, this one she is tending to... hurts more than most." Her words drifted passed the Dwarfs ears as the Priestess finally rose to her feet, and acknowledged the Dwarven Delegation.
"Who was he?" He asked, though he had an idea already.
"Apparently a lover that was never meant to be." Many things flashed by him, many other soldiers he watched die on the fields on a hundred different campaigns, always bringing them home was the worst part.
The Priestess looked dead to the world, having to lean heavily on her staff, limping more than walking. The tired bags under her eyes, the melancholy wafting off her countenance with a surreal level of clarity. Being supported by Ghet who held her under the shoulder, Cori already having her hand on that revolver on her hip eyed the Dwarves with a look of suspicion. Though Halgier would have been good coin on Knoll being the bigger threat in this case, as he loomed behind the group like a monster.
"I know you." Ilgor's voice was a perfect mimicry of how she looked. Exhausted, forlorn, and prideful. "We had met in the abandoned part of the city in Dockside."
"I remember, Gjorn and I both enjoyed speaking with you then." Halgier bowed low to the Goblin Priestess. "Allow me to introduce myself properly, I am The Second King Of Dwarves, Halgier Avarrson."
"A king, chance encounter perhaps, but then again a following a vulture will lead one toward death. I will apologize for the state of my Village, we are currently in the middle of mourning our dead." Like music, broken she spoke.
"I grieve for your loss, I have been there many times. I never gets easier, you just learn to deal with it better." Halgier began, wisely choosing to switch topics however, "Heavy is the crown. But, these are times that your People nor mine were expecting. We have a few things to discuss, as well as a promise to make."
"I do not relish being the one tasked with this proverbial crown, I never asked for any of this, all I wanted for my people was to live on equal footings with the Humans..." She stopped herself, running a hand over her tired face. "What Promise?"
"As for wanting to be on equal footings and the paths we take to get there. Often one will find that the garden of prosperity is laden with two things, the sweat off your brow, and the blood of those who could not follow." The King bowed his head, but continued. "That deal you made with King Berthelot apparently meant less to him that you originally thought."
There was life in her eyes again, a cold fury. "Please, join me in our Tavern. We do not have what you would call any glory in this place, but we do have places were things are not overheard."
