Alexander stood looking out of his window, his gaze scanning the horizon from east to west. The fires of war still burnt, the scars of the wizards magics littering the view.
The years had been hard. Food was scarce and more people arrived at the shanty town just over the river everyday. Technically that town was not part of his concern, but Riverside was the last Fort Town still standing, and as far as he knew he was the last Patriarch still alive. That being the case everything this side of the mountain border was now his burden. It was a burden that needed to be shared.
Alexander was not a warrior, was not a paladin and in no way was he a leader. He was, for all intents and purposes, an accountant. His job had to been to keep tallies on the income from the people of the fort and those the fort protected and to ensure that that income covered the expenses of the fort. Income came in many forms, but the two basics were food and metal. Money was a relatively new invention, and with Riverside being the last fort standing, and was now relatively worthless. Keeping people fed he was good at; keeping their morale up and planning a strategic defence he was not.Read More »
Paladin Jones sat by the campfire, his plate armour weighing heavy on his muscular frame. He hated the armour, always had. It restricted movement, visibility and any Paladin worth their salt dumped the armour at the first sign of trouble. But it had become a symbol, and as he sat around the campfire surround by dignitaries of the nearby villages, his job was to be the symbol of the Paladins. A job he hated with a passion.
He sat and listened to the man beside him drone on and on. The man was a prince (luckily not the Prince and heir to the throne) and an absolute clod. He said nothing that wasn’t scripted, thought nothing other than what he was taught to think, and had a laugh that made Jones’ skin crawl. Yet he seemed to please the village leaders and town mayors who sat and lapped up every word the idiot said.Read More »
Shadow ran as quickly as she could while pulling at two very slow horses. She knew they wanted to help Sebastian, in a way that made little sense to her, but she also knew they had no idea how. For horses it was fair to say Steve and Frank were very intelligent, but even the brightest of horses would fail to understand the cruel magic behind making an avatar. Even if they did, she doubted any horse would know how to reverse the magic. Heck, she lived with the brightest mage still alive and he had worked out jack shit so far!
Worse she had to keep herself and the two horses concealed. At one time she could have concealed a whole bloody city, but with magic on the outs she often found it hard to conceal just herself. Worse, magic was taxing on the brain, so she had little room left to try and communicate with the horses. Even worse, repeating on an endless loop was the sound of Sebastian begging for help.Read More »
The journey up the large hill to the war torn and time ravaged remains of a once great castle was a fairly easy one. The roads, though made of dirt, were well maintained and the edges kept clear of weeds and trees. This was in deep contrast to the once mighty road that had linked the kill to the great city beyond; that road was a mess of potholes, bandits and fallen trees. Where the band of twenty had had to fight for every inch for of movement on the main road, the trip up the hill had been a breeze.
All of the band were on foot, but two horses did pull a large wooden carriage. The bulk of the band walked surrounding the carriage, clearly a well equipped guard for the person or persons inside. A few scouted ahead, a few more lagged behind.
Sebastian walked between the two horses, leading them where they needed to go. Normally a driver would sit atop the carriage, but the persons inside found the noise far too distracting. Luckily the horses were well behaved and not easily spooked; lesser horses would have taken fright and squashed Sebastian a number of times. Not so Frank and Steve, as he had come to call them. He was not sure of their breed or their training, but as a son of a farmer he prided himself on his ability to pick out quality animals.Read More »