Out on the once-barren fields stood a mass of soldiers, the blue of their banners in contrast with the surrounding, lush green, which had presented itself after the Frost had passed. They stood at attention; still as stone. They were waiting, likely for Holden. He glanced over at Quinarlan, able to read the disbelief behind the mask.
"There must be an entire company out there," Quinarlan said. "I suppose that is a clearer signal than any other."
"Then let us not waste their time." Moving over to his belongings, Holden put on his coat, and grabbed his sword. He became attuned to Yusil over the past few months, and could feel the air part in two before the edge. It felt natural to grip the hilt, a feeling that only manifested after countless skirmishes against the patrols, and against Quinarlan in training.
With each blow given and -- reluctantly -- taken, Holden changed. With each day, there was less of an inexperienced soldier, and more of a veteran. His skin grew thicker, and his will hardened like iron. The irresolute thoughts in his head withered away, replacing thoughts of fear and uncertainty with confidence and clarity.
The time spent in Stal under Quinarlan's tutelage left him constantly pondering the reasoning of the world. Why was there war? The answer was the same as to why wolves attack those in their territory, why a mother bear attacks anything close to her cubs, or why Holden ever released the arrow that took his first life.
In the end, it was to protect something.
Values and traditions, ancestry, wealth, power, family, land; there were countless things to meet another in battle to protect, and one of the best was to protect one's self -- kill, or be killed.
"Are you alright?" Quinarlan asked, clasping Holden's shoulder. "I can carry a bit of your weight, if it should help."
"I'm fine," said, Holden. "I was just lost in thought."
"Well, you'll have plenty of time to get lost in thought once we're away from this place." Quinarlan picked up a recurve bow -- painted to match the verdant green of the pines -- and a quiver, and handed it to Holden. "When time permits, I'll search for the remains of your friend's bow."
"That's not necessary," Holden said. Slipping the quiver's belt around his torso, he took the bow. "I'm sure he would be glad to have his bow see me this far." He took one last look around the area he and Quinarlan camped throughout the Frost. They had cut down the saplings of pines, and broken off the branches of the fully grown trees to help conceal their camp from the patrols. Within their concealed shelter, the ground was host to countless footprints -- from practicing footwork to sparring. The infantile fire at the center would go out easily if left unattended, which made it one less thing to worry of in terms of staying hidden.
Pulling some of the branches apart, Quinarlan clicked his tongue to garner Holden's attention. "Get going, Holden. I'll catch up with you."
With a nod, Holden stepped out of the shelter, and began making his way down the mountainside. By instinct, he looked around for anything noticeable about his surroundings. His vigilance was what would keep him out of plenty of deadly situations, after all. He descended the mountain with ease -- having grown experienced in climbing up and down the terrain -- and approached the treeline. He remained hidden from sight for a moment, examining the company of soldiers that awaited him. In front of them was Yerryn and Marius, who had a grin with unmatched pride.
Cmoing out of the treeline, he slowly began walking towards the two of them. "You threw me into the woods with nary a single essential for survival,, then show up now like you were commended by the king himself."
"A test, and one that you excelled beyond expectations." Marius walked up to Holden. "Most people would have given up in the first week. You went the entire frost without depending on us providing for you. Congratulations, Lieutenant d'Alnharte. You've grown plenty since we last met."
"Thank you, Colonel. I--"
"Wait just a moment," Yerryn interjected. "Colonel, what kind of message do we send to our troops by letting him climb up the ranks? He couldn't even hold a sword properly!"
"Ah, yes. This was during your test the day after he recovered from his coma, was it not?" Marius folded his arms over his chest. "Well, test him now."
"Are you ready to battle, Holden?" asked Yerryn.
"I would rather avoid battle with Lieutenant Yerryn," Holden said. Several of the troops murmured, as Marius' grin dimmed. "That being said," he continued, "should you draw your blade, Lieutenant, I will not refrain from returning the damage you did to me."
"Is that a threat, Sergeant Holden?" Yerryn asked.
"I was merely concerned for your wellbeing." As Yerryn drew her blade, Holden dropped his bow and lifted Yusil out of its sheath. He took a step forward, bringing his blade to Yerryn's side. As she moved to parry, he changed his motion, clashing his blade against Yerrn's by the guard. He sent Yerryn's sword into the air, and had his at her neck before it hit the ground.
"Impressive." Marius clapped his hands as holden lowered his blade. "Well, Lieutenant Yerryn, is that enough evidence of Holden's growth?"
"I made the mistake of being soft against him." Grabbing her sword, Yerryn brought it in for a thrust aimed at Holden's shoulder.
Taking a step back, Holden met her steel with his. As he caught the movement of her leg, he broke contact and moved away before she could sweep out his legs. He kept calm, and sank into a defensive stance. "I don't want to harm you, Yerryn."
"You know what hurt me, Holden? When you didn't save honler." She lunged at holden with her blade raised, but instead stopped short, and raised her knee into Holden's gut. As he hunched over, she prepared to strike his back with the pommel of her sword.
Acting quickly, Holden lurched forth to tackle her to the ground. As Quinarlan taught him, there was no place for honor in battle, only before and after. He grabbed the wrist of her sword arm, and the end of her sword. He could already feel it bite into his palm, but he pushed through the pain. Against her struggling, he forced her own blade to sit on her throat.
"Enough!" commanded a booming voice, making Holden and Yerryn freeze in their lock. The soldiers parted as a man adorned in exquisite clothing -- velvet to rival gems, embroidered with gold, and a cloak to gover over -- passed through. He was well into his life, as signs of aging marred his complexion. Yet, he appeared more than physically capable. "I have seen it in your heart, Liuetenant Alnharte. You possess the spirit that On'hino was founded upon. You are a wolf in a gentleman's attire; calm and respectable, yet you fight as if your life depended on it."
"Y-your majesty," Marius stammered, before kneeling and bowing his head.
"Up on your feet, Marius. You'll muddy your pants." The king approached Holden and Yerryn, who were still on the ground. "Come, now, up with the two of you," he said, pulling them both up. He looked at Holden. "King Tor, if the giant-kin's sudden humbleness did not give it away."
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty." A feeling of numbness ran through Holden. He was having a simple conversation with the king of his homeland.
"When I said I heard the stories of how one man brought Rnyrt to its knees, I sent my servants to find you." King Tor collapsed a hand on Holden's shoulder. "Come; you will ride with me. There is much to discuss."
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Holden said, “but we must wait a while longer. There is another coming.”
“Another?” King Tor raised an eyebrow.
“Look! At the treeline!” A soldier shouted, pounting a finger at an approaching Quinarlan. A few soldiers drew their swords, but lowered them when Tor gave a gesture to stand down.
“Identify yourself,” he demanded.
Quinarlan stopped, and remained unmoving for a moment. He slowly brought his hands up to his head. For the first time, he was taking off the mask. Shoulder length hair ran free, the locks of chestnut swaying with the wind. There was evident youth in his face, though it did little to add grace to the thick scar over his cheek. And, protruding from his head were the sharp ears of an elf.
Grabbing his own blade, Holden felt his blood boil. His trust was defiled once again. “You knife-eared bastard!” He shouted, but a single hand on his chest stopped him from carving Quinarlan to pieces.
“I feel there may be more to this than what you percieve, Holden.” Lowering his hand, Tor cleared his throat. “Go on, Aradian.”
“Quinarlan, Your Majesty.” Quinarlan knelt before Tor, and bowed his head. “I’m afraid we’ve never met, but I swore undying loyalty to you when I was barely a man. I am an elf by alone; On’hinian in every other manner. If you cannot take my word for it, then slay me and be done with it.” Slowly drawing his blade, he lifted it up and presented it to Tor.
“Quinarlan, what business do you have here?” Tor asked, not touching the sword.
“Well, your majesty--”
“The King’s Generals approach!” a soldier called out. With haste, the entire company sheathed their blades and returned to an at-attention stance. A trio of horses came into view, and stopped in between Quinarlan and King Tor. As the riders dismounted, Holden felt a chill run down his spine. One of them approached the king, looking like the living dead. The man’s pale face was a poor match to the colorful plate mail he wore, with the crest of an eagle imprinted on the chest.
“I trust that your day has been well, Your Majesty,” the man said, offering a gloved hand to Tor.
“General Thibault,” Tor addressed the man, “it is a pleasure to see you coming out for fresh air. Tell me, what is this elf doing in Stal, and how does it concern you.”
“While I cannot go into the matter here, I can assure you that Quinarlan has loyalty in every fiber of his being. He’s been under my tutelage for the past decade.” Thibault turned to face Quinarlan. “I was hoping to present you as a pleasant surprise, but I suppose there are worse circumstances in which you could have been revealed.” He looked to Holden, the stare he gave colder than the Frost could manage. “Holden d’Alnharte, I presume. I am the General of Foreign Campaigns. I’ve heard about your exploits in Rnyrt. I’m shocked they chose to send you to the crucible after your first assignment.”
“I had plenty to improve on,” replied Holden.
“Well, may your improvements serve you well when you find yourself on the battlefield once more. You represent the valor of our homeland.” Thibault turned his gaze away, and approached Marius. “Colonel, would you give this pup his rite of passage?” He gestured to Quinarlan. “And for your well being, do not hold back.”
“Yes, General.” Unsheathing his broadsword, Marius turned his gaze to Quinarlan. The elf stood up, and drew his own blade, sinking into a defensive posture. Neither side moved, and the silent prelude before the battle was saturated with tension. While Marius was clearly stronger than Quinarlan, Holden knew for a fact that Quinarlan boasted a swiftness and prowess that few others possessed. The man who could cleave a mountain against the man who could outrun the wind.
“Not today,” King Tor said. “We have important matters to discuss -- time cannot be wasted with such childish traditions.” Patting Holden’s shoulder, he led him through the ranks of soldiers, to a coach. It held a beauty about its craftsmanship, adorned with banners of blue and silver. It looked not only luxurious, but sturdy enough to be taken into battle.
“Perhaps another time.” Thibault motioned for Quinarlan to come close. While their words were inaudible, Holden saw the stern expression on the General’s face.
“Come,” Tor prompted, opening the door to the coach. Once Holden sat inside, he shut the door and sat across from him. After a moment, there was a gentle lurch as the coach started to move. “I have a confession, Holden.” Tor leaned back in his seat. “There is something of dire urgency that must be discussed.”
“Your Majesty?”
“While one could not assume such from what you have seen, I believe that the Generals are conspiring against me.” Tor’s tone was grim. “You are familiar with Saul, I have learned.” He raised a hand to keep Holden from speaking, or bursting out of the coach. “Don’t worry; Saul has been a most trusted friend. I would never believe the accusations they set upon him.”
“Then why did it happen? Why not speak against the accusations?” Holden clasped his hands together, and glanced out the window. There was nothing but the open plains, and the mountains beyond “When I left, he had done nothing wrong.”
“He still hasn’t,” Tor replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Someone in the Generals’ ring rattled his name out. They know that he has been working against them at every turn, and now they seek to put him to death. The night he dies, I die.” He leaned back, and rested his chin in the palm of his own hand. “While I would like to say something, and testify in Saul’s name, it would only do harm; not good. They would label me in line with rebels, and overthrow me.”
“What can I do?” Holden asked.
“I may have the need to see that General Thibault and his ring of scoundrels ousted in a violent manner.” The king lowered his voice. “Can I count on you, d’Alnharte?”
“What of the army in service to you?”
“The separation from nobility and the military dictates that the King’s Generals outrank royal orders. They would simply turn my army against me.”
“What of loyalty to the king?”
“That depends on who they see as their king.” Tor leaned in, looking Holden in the eyes. “Holden, I ask that you take up the mantle of the Royal Guardian.”
“To keep your bloodline intact?”
“Whatever it takes to keep that warlord from taking the throne. He would undo everything I worked so hard to bring about.”
“Everything?”
“Everything!” Tor exclaimed. “I quelled the anger of rebels, built a military that could stand toe to toe with the rest of Erelith, and I gave purpose to the Sea Tigers. Before my time, they were merely pirates who pillaged and murdered along our shores. It was my work that made them serve a greater cause.”
“I understand.” Holden sat back, and thought for a moment. When Saul said that he still served for the king, he never imagined like this. Becoming Tor’s Royal Guardian would most certainly put him in the sights of the King’s Men. It would leave his family as potential targets, as well. “If I agree to this, I must request something of you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I have a family, out in a small farmland a ways from Perona. See to it that they are dept safe, and I will be your protector.”
“It will be done,” Tor said. “For now, you must play along to their schemes. Are you prepared for Oner, d’Alnharte?”
“I seem to manage, Your Majesty; regardless of whether or not I’m prepared.” Holden grinned. If everything would come together as he imagined, then he had done what he set out to do. His family would be looked after, and be well fed. He was only a few steps away from being heralded as a hero, as well.
“They will be treated as guests in my home, Holden. And as the general said, you will represent our homeland there. Show them the chivalry of a noble, and the ire of a dragon.”
***
The sun hit the sea, casting a golden shell over Perona. The waters were calm, and the wind was gentle. Sitting atop a crate overlooking the docks, Holden felt a light tapping on his arm. He looked to find a child -- as small and thin as they could come -- standing there, a desperate look on her face.
“Please sir,” she said, “I’m hungry.”
Reaching into his pockets, Holden pulled out several orichs. “Here, take it,” he offered.
“Thank you!” She gave Holden a bright smile, before hurrying off. She reminded Holden of one of his more prominent fears; that his family would end up beggars, and be casted out of the mainland.
“So the hero of the Rnyrtian campaign has a heart of gold.” Standing at the edge of the pier was Orin. “Well, Holden, you’ve made quite the impression, on beggars and kings alike.” He approached Holden, and pulled him into a hug.
“Easy, there,” Holden said with a chuckle. As Orin let go, Holden stood up, and motioned for him to follow as he walked up the street. “How are things on the Goliath?”
“Swell, now that I’m officially the captain.”
Holden raised a brow. “And how did you manage that?”
“Well, when you and Honler departed, I made a bet with Thusk on your survival.” Orin chuckled, and folded his arms across his chest. “When you came out as wounded as you were, he insisted that your injuries would be the end of you. I bet a life of servitude on against his own ship, saying you would recover.”
“I guess you’re the winner, seeing as I’m still here.” Holden grinned, and offered his hand. “Congratulations, Captain Orin. I think the Goliath will benefit from its new captain.”
“I hope so. The role of captain is a dangerous one.” Orin shook Holden’s hand. “That’s the problem with being a Sea Tiger. You’re a soldier without the paperwork, and your men are soldiers without regulations. Gods forbid a mutiny forms against me.”
“The lines of work we undertake are always teeming with danger. That’s what separates us from carpenters and gardeners.” Holen stopped as he reached the long stretch of stalls making up the market. He wanted to see if he could spot the urchin he aided, but the expanse was flooded with buyers and sellers.
“She’ll be fine,” Orin said. “If she lived this long in Perona, she knows how to manage on her own.”
“Right.” It was somewhat bothering Holden that a place that possessed such captivating features could be so cold and cruel to its own tenants. “Are the other On’hinian cities like this?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Orin said. “They don’t allow Sea Tigers into the mainland.” He looked over his shoulder at the open waters. “We ought to get to the ship, and acquaint you with the others volunteered by His Majesty for whatever you’re doing in Oner.”
Holden nodded, and followed Orin back down the street. “So, will you be betting on my survival, again?”
With a smirk, Orin merely shrugged. “I think it would be a waste of time. I think nobody would take bets on your death. Oner is relatively safe, even with the war.”
“Safer than Rnyrt?”
“Aye, and it’ll please you to know that Oner is a lot dryer, too.” The two of them chuckled, as they reached the docks. Oring led Holden to the Goliath, before letting out a sharp whistle. Almost immediately, someone about called out, ‘Captain boarding!’ A moment later, a gangplank was set down to cross the gap, acting as a steep ramp. As the pair boarded the Goliath, they were greeted with multiple members of the crew standing at attention.
“You’ve cleaned up the crew,” Holden said, noting the discipline the crew lacked before. They almost seemed like soldiers.
“All it took was to kick the lazy ones off the ship, and split their pay amongst those willing to work.” Oring approached one of the crew. “Anchors up immediately; we set sail for Oner.”
“Consider it done, cap’n.” The crew member turned and ran off to tend to the matter. The rest of the crew dispersed over the deck, preparing the Goliath for travel.
“Head down to your quarters, Holden. We can talk later.” Orin walked across the deck to the captain’s quarters, leaving Holden to find his own way there. Holden went below deck, and quickly realized how the once-cramped corridor for the crew was now completely vacant.
“That is a lot of ‘lazy ones’ to kick,” he muttered under his breath. Walking through the corridor, he found the door to his quarters on the other side. Opening it, the first thing he noticed was the form sleeping in Honler’s hammock. There were several other hammocks set up, and each was filled -- spare his own.
“Lieutenant d’Alnharte,” someone said, sitting up. “There’s a lot of stories involving you.” What spoke to Holden was a tall, brawny man. Against one of the walls leaned a greataxe, taller than Holden’s body. If it belonged to anyone in the room, it was him. “I can usually sort the nonsense from the reasonable, but people insist you brought Rnyrt to its knees.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Sergeant Durek. Call me Durek, if you want. I don’t care for formalities.” Durek pointed to the man in Honler’s hammock. “That’s Lieutenant Alon. No offense, but if he gives an order, I’ll listen to him before you. He’s proven his worth to me on the battlefield.”
“I’m not keen on ordering you around, either.” Moving to his hammock, Holden laid down inside it. He heard Durek grunt, before laying back down. He was becoming less and less intimidated by people of a larger stature -- because of Marius, or because he himself was stronger than before, he did not know. However, should the rest of the volunteers prove as difficult as the Sergeant, then this assignment would prove to be a long one.
There were two others in the room, besides Alon. And, it was more than likely that they knew more about Holden than he did about them. It was unsettling; to feel so uneasy around those whom he would entrust his life. Should something go awry, it was these strangers that would have to risk their necks for him. But, that was what separated him from carpenters and gardeners. He dealt not in roses and craftsmanship, but in blood and marksmanship. Curling up in his hammock, Holden managed to block out the sounds of the ocean, and drift off to sleep.
