First Honorary
Battle of Banded Iron
In the autumn of our divine year of 1023, the ceremonious battle commenced with great success. Emrols were won by dutiful questing and mighty valor. Crimes were punished adequately and bonds were built by former enemies. The battle itself displayed the utmost devotion to the gods and our gracious Council, who brought us a feast like no other and spirits to drink well into the night.
Yes, the new tradition was a victory for all Feröners!
Albeit, The Enclave of Blood & Stone won the day! By Blood & Stone's annointment, Kael Verrum, Luzian’s predecessor, will be welcomed into the Tower of Sumeir and given a voice in The High Chamber, until the next Battle of Banded Iron concludes.
I: Near Demise
Luzian woke in the middle of the night. The commander sat up, wondering why. Ever since winning the first Battle, he had not had many restless nights. Kael Verrum sat on The Council now by Luzian’s anointment. A deeply trusted man in The Enclave, he was not only the former commander, but from an old mining guild family. After Luzian took command of Blood & Stone, the man had spent his gray years as their best strategic advisor. Now on The Council, Kael unknowingly allowed Luzian to rest better than he had in a long time.
And yet, Luzian sat up in his bed as straight as the hair on the back of his neck. All the candles were snuffed, but his eyes reflected every bit of starlight coming through his window. The chambers he took were modest. Upon succeeding, he had let his men bunk up in the Commander’s Chamber since it had the bigger fireplace, and better accomodations, as Luzian was only one man. This room still had a secret escape route in case the Commander had to get to the battlements quickly and unnoticed—a secret tunnel behind the wardrobe he now saw was askew.
A breathless moment hung. Luzian dove for his sword leaning against the nightstand. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye, but the commander changed his direction on a pinpoint. The short blade missed him. Poison, Luzian realized. Instead of grappling with this person to subdue them for questioning, Luzian now put distance between them. He managed to grab his knife from his belt on the chair before the shadow came at him again.
Luzian kept one eye on the tip of the blade as he parried the killer. His mind worked on a way to contain the shadow and not get either of them stung. But before he could get to his bed covers to throw them over his attacker, the guards came rushing in.
“Wait!” Luzian said to his men, not wanting one of them to take the poison blade meant for him. When he looked back at the shadow, they had already driven the toxin-coated iron into their own stomach.
“No!” Luzian rushed forward, pulling the blade from their gut. The poison was already locking up their nervous system. “Fetch a Barb!”
One of the guards ran off. Luzian pointed the others to the tunnel entrance behind the wardrobe, informing them to scour every inch of their secret network. Luzian clung to the shadow, questioning them in vain. By the time two of the Silver Barbs arrived, vials of every remedy clinking in their bags, Luzian could only tell them to examine the body… thoroughly. He wrapped the blade in cloth before also handing it over for examination.
The hours following were long. Luzian called a meeting with his captain and every squad leader in the ranks. Around the oval table of polished banded iron, the commander informed his soldiers of the incident. Outrage erupted while Luzian sat calmly thinking. Who would even do this? He could think of no one.
One of the Silver Barbs entered the strategy room after a time. All fell silent. The Barb announced the poison was of the Black Aurumbel, a poisonous flower found only in Ferinör Forest. Outrage erupted again. Luzian felt conflicted. After the event of the Battle, the factions had parted as comrades. Had he not brought one of his own to the stocks after Gilded Sun was slighted? A foul feeling of betrayal crept up inside, but the commander kept his head.
Luzian stood with both fists planted on the table. The room hushed once more. “No one is to speak of this outside this room. No one will take any actions, whatsoever, until I have an audience with Commander Torbran.”
II: Tragic Endings
The message delivered by one of Gilded Sun’s soldiers played over again in Commander Torbran’s head. Then he repeated the word he was stuck on. “Gone?”
“Yes, sir.” She continued with the message, “The soldiers accompanying the food shipment were found… though, they were deceased, and clearly, some effort was put into hiding the bodies.”
Torbran closed his eyes for a brief moment and then came back to his role on a controlled breath. “Anything else?”
“This was found among the bodies.” She placed a broche with a chalice and five blood drops engraved in metal.
“Thank you.” His expression was hard when he looked at the broche. “Now tell no one of this and find me Captain Severin.” The messenger bowed before leaving.
Torbran went over to his command table, a large wooden platform resting on rooted stumps. It was currently covered in a map of Ferös and protection orders from farmers sending their goods afar. Gilded Sun territories were mostly farming, and therefore, their duty to protect the shipments—same as The Enclave protected the mines. Torbran shifted the parchment til he found the paperwork on his assailed cargo, one of the larger ones going through Blood & Stone territory.
He had assigned six soldiers for this shipment instead of the usual eight for opposing territory. He had left the Battle of Banded Iron feeling confident the hatchet was buried between them, and so, chose to send less soldiers.
The names of his deceased guards on the parchment stood out in a harrowing way. Not only did he detest feeling betrayed, but six of his own were dead. He clenched The Enclave pin in his fist till it hurt, and then turned to find Captain Severin standing in the exit.
“Captain. You heard.”
“I have.” The captain, uncharacteristically, looked down at the floor. Severin held an opened scroll in her hand. “And I have other news…. An attempt on Commander Luzian’s life has been made and the poison came from Ferinor. He’s demanding an audience with you.”
Torbran neatly folded the protection order for the ill-fated shipment and tucked it into his belt with the broche. His brow was set heavy over his eyes. “Have them ready my horse. I’ll ride to him now.”
III: Parley
The raven sent ahead of Commander Torbran had arrived the night before he did. He pushed the chamber doors open harder than he normally would, but he felt the loud bang matched the tone of the room. His own scroll was already opened on the table before Luzian.
Luzian did not react, but his look was dour. “Welcome, Commander.”
Torbran looked at The Enclave’s commander as he did before the sacred battle—scrupulous of every word. They had both come to Blood & Stone’s public chambers with a small entourage. The nervous shifting of steel could be heard behind Luzian as Torbran approached the table without pause. Luzian held a hand up to keep his soldiers still.
“This was found with my dead.” Torbran dropped the broche onto the desk.
Luzian examined it, shaking his head. “I assure you we had nothing to do with that shipment.”
Torbran retorted calmly, “As far as you know.”
At this, Luzian stood suddenly.
The soldiers of The Order put their hands on their hilts.
Torbran did not tell them to steady.
Luzian spoke first, “You come in here with hostilities, accuse my command of failing, and say nothing about the attempt made on my life by poison from your woods?”
Torbran Scowled, “Anyone could know how to find a Black Aurumbel, as rare as it is, and I see you’re still breathing. I have to send news to six families about their loved ones who died on a routine assignment.”
“What good would we gain from stealing grain?” Luzian patience was wearing out. Torbran had just shrugged off an attempt on a commander’s life—a life that would throw half their world into chaos if it had ended suddenly. Torbran should understand this, but he was more concerned with the dead.
“You and I may have shaken hands and settled things, but I’m hard-pressed to believe everyone in your ranks has forgotten every conflict we’ve been in.” Torbran’s eyes shifted to the soldiers behind Luzian. “I imagine some of them wanted a final jab at us and half that grain is on its way to becoming ale by now.”
“Absurd.” Luzian practically spat the word out. “That Captain of yours looked sour about the agreement we came to during the battle, and I’m sure she knows exactly where to find a Black Aurumbel.”
Torbran straightened, his leather armor shifting as he stuck out his chest. “Captain Severin’s trust may be harder won, but she would never go behind my back.”
“As far as you know.” Luzian’s eyes narrowed.
The room held a collective breath. The soldiers eyed each of the commanders, wondering who was going to attack first. They had been on guard duty, or heard about the bloodshed, during the shotty discussions of The Faction Years. And none of those talks had been as dire as this one.
Commander Torbran broke the silence, not wanting this to end poorly despite his current mood. “This can’t be settled now. I expect you to question your troops and deliver a response.” No sense in undoing progress without more proof, he figured.
“And I expect you to do the same.” Luzian sat back down, indicating he was done talking.
Torbran turned away without another word. His soldiers followed him out.
The chamber doors closed on the fragile trust between the factions. Bad blood of old slowly filled their veins. If answers were not found, their resentments ran the risk of living again.
IV: Lilith’s Vision
The hall filled with shuffling as the students of Argeanth departed from their seats. Papers rustled, full of ink from their lesson, and the fledgling Barbs began talking amongst themselves as they made their way to the apothecary greenhouse. Lilith closed the tome on the pedestal before her. She ran her hand over the leather that protected the pages, admiring their wear. Her fingertips came to rest on the binding she stitched herself two decades ago.
What a different time that had been. The Crimson Years had finally worn out their rage, and the factions attempted peace. Argeanth was just a seedling of an institute and now it stood as a sprawling studium of medicine. She had hoped the peace would uphold, but humans and gods alike are not known to quell for long.
“Madam Roe…”
Lilith broke from her reverie to see her apprentice, The Rosebud, standing beside her. “Yes?”
“Madam, are you feeling alright? You’ve been distant in your mind lately.”
Lilith sighed, “I fear something has been robbing me of my sleep, though I’m not sure what.”
The Rosebud began to respond, but a streak of light from the window behind her caught Lilith’s eye. The room went mute. The window’s scene became obscured with a brightness and something like a voice began to murmur, though she couldn’t make out the words.
Lilith stood suddenly, realizing she was in the middle of a conversation, and looked back at The Rosebud, whose concern had only deepened. “Will you teach my next lesson for me? I think I need some fresh air.”
The Rosebud faltered for a moment. “Oh, uh, of course.”
Lilith dawned her cloak to shelter herself from the early spring chill and headed for the studium’s expansive gardens. Usually, she left her staff behind for short walks, but something compelled her to take it with. For strength or comfort, she wasn’t sure. But as she passed the verdant rose bushes, fresh out of dormancy, and reached the garden’s edge, she found herself unable to turn around.
She entered the woods to the south, and the murmur returned. Wisps of air stirred the forest and with it came words she could barely discern:
Cede forth…
Lilith moved through the trees wherever the voice led. The charms hanging from her staff bounced off each other, adding to the tranquil chaos that now surrounded her. Time began to feel severed, and although she must have been walking for quite a while, she realized her legs and the rest of her body had yet to grow tired, but her mind did wan. She would occasionally close her eyes for a brief moment to only open them again in a part of the forest she didn’t recognize. The trees were older, wiser, and hoarded almost all the light from the soft, barren earth, yet she did not feel lost. The light moccasins she had left in, the ones she wore solely around Argeanth, were beginning to wear as if she had walked a great distance, and yet, night never seemed to arrive.
Droplets rest…
The voice drew her onward. Lilith closed her eyes once more and then awoke before a mountain. A narrow trail cut through the rocks, ascending to an unseen place. She looked down at her thin leather shoes, knowing they would tear worse on the rock but began climbing the trail regardless. Something wanted her to find this place, and she was determined to know why.
The way was filled with loose stones, causing her to rely heavily on her staff, though it did not save her from every blunder. Her shin bled from where she stumbled against the sharp edge of a boulder, and her palms were raw from catching herself more than once.
Your breath…
The pathway began to narrow until she had to turn sideways to continue. For a moment, she thought she might get stuck and remain wedged between the stones til her body was nothing more than bones for the crows to bicker over.
Finally, a sliver of light appeared. Lilith pulled and pushed toward it, emerging into a hidden meadow surrounded by rocky peaks. In the center, a large tree from Ferinor Forest, its leaves still golden from spring, stood out of place. As she approached it, Lilith noticed the tree’s roots were entwined in a vein of banded iron that jutted up from the ground as if Aegir himself tried to pluck it from the mountain.
This was a sacred space, a private place for the gods, and they brought her here regardless. The murmuring grew louder the closer she got to the tree, and then, as she stepped under the shadow of its boughs, the exhaustion of her journey hit her all at once. She staggered against the trunk, lowering herself carefully to sit against the great boulder of banded iron.
Sleep finally overcame her. In her dreams, the voice on the wind became perfectly clear, along with its intent.
♦
The fragrance of Argeanth’s white roses filled the air around the studium. Lilith returned with her feet bare and bloody, her clothes tattered and dirty. A few barbs noticed her and rushed over to assist. Lilith smiled, knowing she returned with a great gift to share with The House of The Silver Barb.
V: The Voice of Sumeir
The purple wax melted over the candle for more than the tenth time that day. The Emissary carefully removed the spoon and placed her seal on yet another letter to be sent out. This one instructed how much iron was to be delivered to each major forge in the realm. The one before that allocated how much crop was to be brought to Emrol, and the one before that declared how a squabble in one of the high-born families was to be settled, and so on.
A knock came at the door. The Emissary placed her quill in its stand and bid the visitor to enter. The Child of Ferös stepped into her chambers.
“Great Emissary, the lord of house Alloquin is here to discuss his payments.”
“Very well. I feel due for a break from all this scribbling.” The Emissary stood and gestured toward the pile of sealed scrolls on her desk. “Can you be sure these get to their intended locations?”
The Child bowed in agreeance as The Emissary walked swiftly from the room. She only had so much time to complete this meeting with Lord Alloquin before she had to ascend The Tower for her nightly debrief with The Council.
She passed multiple tacets silently cleaning the halls of soot from the torches and wiping the cold stones of their sweat, eventually making her way to the center of The Tower. There, a great cathedral stood in honor of the gods. The same cathedral where she first took up her position while the previous Emissary was laid on a bier—reunited with the deities who watch over Ferös, just as The Emissary does in life.
Large, peaked archways to the outside world let a wash of sunlight into the cathedral, warming the stones. High-borns gathered to pay their respects to the gods and gossip amongst each other. As she passed through them, they stood aside to clear a path to her assembly chamber. She could recall each and every one of their names and positions. Although, one came to her mind more than the rest.
Ordovician. A name she had been taught but was never meant to know its true connection to her. The sacred Battle of Banded Iron had revealed more than the next successor to The Council. It had brought her the family name she had been lawfully and divinely stripped of before birth. Despite her efforts to ignore it and remain staunch in her duties, it clung to a void inside her without relent.
♦
The Emissary climbed the many steps of The Tower leading up to where The Council awaited her. She used to get exhausted by the climb but had grown used to it over the years. Now it just felt tedious and time consuming. As she passed the eleventh floor, she at least knew the hike was almost over. The next five levels were elaborate chambers for each council member, and the seventeenth floor, the peak of Sumeir, was The High Chamber where they met almost every eve.
On the landing to the twelfth floor, Kael Verrum stood in his council cloak with the hood down about his shoulders. The former commander of Blood and Stone was the newly appointed council member—the first to be chosen by the winning faction of the sacred Battle. He dropped to one knee when he saw her.
“You need not kneel to me anymore, Lord Verrum.”
Keal rose back up as steadily as his aging hips would allow. “Old habits die hard, I suppose. May I accompany you the rest of the way?”
The Emissary nodded and continued her ascent with Kael.
Kael spoke after a moment, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the assassination attempt on Commander Luzian and the slain caravan of The Gilded Sun?”
“Yes, I heard they tried to talk it out themselves but to no avail. I’m sure that will be a major topic of discussion this evening.”
“You’re correct. They plan to send you directly to each Commander and order them to save their fighting for The Battle.”
“As is my duty. Honestly, I could use a break from Emrol. A ride down the Green Road sounds quite relaxing, even though it doesn’t stop the couriers from finding me.”
Kael hesitated for a moment, and then lowered his voice. “You should take the East Road instead. I feel it would be safer for you.”
The Emissary stopped on the steps to look at Kael. He wore a stern look as if begging her silently. “The East Road through the old woods?” She scoffed in disbelief. “Are you suggesting that this dispute between the factions is some threat to me?”
Kael leaned in closer. His voice still hushed. “I’m not so sure this is between the factions, and I think it would be wise to be less predictable for a time.”
The Emissary studied Kael’s face. She had worked closely with him for many years while he stood as commander of The Enclave and did not know him to be dishonest.
Keal suddenly returned to his normal stature. “Well, we shan’t keep The Council waiting. Some of them might nod off to sleep before we arrive.” He smirked at her.
The Emissary smiled back at the jest even as an unease grew inside her. They continued up the stone steps talking of more idle things: the meals the cooks serve, the weather, the birds that get themselves trapped in The Tower until a tacet chases it down with a sack. When they arrived at The High Chamber, Kael moved to assume his seat at the crescent-shaped table with the four other council members. The Emissary took her seat in the center of the room, facing The Council, and began their routine debrief.