Blitzz
A Friendly Brit
The sun was beating down hard when the city of Kal'Vadash came into view over the distant dunes that lined the horizon. It was early afternoon, and Sebastius felt as though he would soon be drowning in the sweat that had culminated in his attire. It had been six days since the Archseer had left the Inquisition's temporary headquarters at the town of High Hill, and the journey into the desert had been unpleasant to say the least. Sebastius, along with King Isaac's bodyguard Ser Quinn and the ambassador Mandra Branning, had departed from the base at High Hill with an armed escort of 50 Inquisition soldiers and made their way into the heart of the Ari'iki Desert.
The Li'ivi tribes that lived up here had been troublesome as of late, growing more and more so with every passing day. Isaac had called upon Sebastius especially, planning to use the Archseer's silver tongue to sway the Li'ivi to calm. To do so, he had to meet with their makeshift council, comprised of the chiefs of the seven largest clans in the desert, and appeal to them directly. From what Sebastius had been able to decipher, the Li'vi had become increasingly aggravated at the prospect of being adopted into a foreign Kingdom, and Sebastius had to assure them that they were simply under Qethia's protection, and were free to govern themselves. If possible, Isaac wanted to strike a military agreement. He wanted to incorporate them into Qethia's ranks; the Li'ivi survived on hunting, on foot or on the back of creatures. Qethia could use some skilled archers, and archers that could shoot from horseback seemed to appeal to Isaac.
"Stop. We rest here for now." Sebastius heard Quinn's words and cursed him under his breath. The bastard had totally assumed control, and now he was stopping in a barren stretch of the desert with no shade when their destination was only a few miles away. Nevertheless, the column drew to a halt, and Sebastius dismounted. He had chosen a great white destrier for the journey, an enormous beast that looked strong enough to survive the journey. He led the horse by its reigns and tied it to a carriage; they had added several wooden outcrops to tie horses to and prevent them running away. Sebastius ripped of his cowl as he walked around to the rear of the carriage. His short blonde hair normally stood on end, but today it was limp and wet on top of his head. Sebastius looked young for his age, with brown eyes and blemish free skin even at the age of 43. He was of average height, and somewhat stocky in build, although not at all fat.
Sebastius handed his metal canteen to a soldier at the back of the carriage, who swiftly filled it from one of the many barrels stored there. Sebastius almost snatched the drink back. The water was warm and not at all refreshing, and seemed to run out far too quickly. It was a wonder to Sebastius that anyone could survive out here. He sat slumped in the shade offered by the carriage, with his head leant back against the wheel. He removed his gloves and rolled his sleeves up, eager to reach Kal'Vadash and get into something more comfortable. Tattoos adorned both forearms; the left littered with Inquisition heraldry and the right coated in religious depictions. A couple of minutes later, Quinn came and sat next to him. "How are you holding up, old man?"
"I'm an Archseer of the Inquisition," Sebastius' throat hurt when he spoke, "if this were any other situation, I'd have you flogged, but I'm too tired to care," Sebastius shot him a smile to let him know he was joking but wasn't quite sure if the Royal Guardsman had caught it. "Kal'Vadash isn't far, we should get moving." Sebastius stood and untied his horse, remounting the great white beast, while Quinn scrambled to his feet and started barking orders. Within minutes the convoy was on the move again.
It was about three hours later when they reached the city, and the sun had begun to fall back down below the peaks of the buildings in Kal'Vadash. For desert tribesmen, the city was grand. A grand palace had been erected of sandstone, and all manor of animal skins and fine velvet had been used as decoration. Sebastius' convoy had been greeted with caution and they had been denied any immediate audience. Apparently some of the chiefs were absent and the council would have to wait until their return. In the meantime, Sebastius had been granted a room at the top of a tower, with spectacular view over the entire city. It wasn't large, but the prospect of such an incredible city in the middle of a place with no real resources was a major indicator of the initiative, knowledge and skill of the Li'ivi.
The moon had come into view while Sebastius was sat at a desk, quill in hand. He was now naked apart from a pair of beige roughspun breaches, and the cool night air felt heavenly on his tired skin. He sipped from a cup of wine as he drew his letter to a conclusion, before sealing it and moving over to the window. He had been writing to inform King Isaac that they had reached the city. But now, as he gazed out over the city with the cool night's breeze on his face and a cup of wine in his hand, Sebastius could only wonder how Antemion was getting on.
South, however, off the port side of the ship, was an entirely different scenario. Coastline was visible in the distance, lined with trees. Trees littered the coast left and right, as far as the eye could see. Nothing but trees. The dense forest made it seem as though there was no place to land, and so the ships had stayed anchored about a mile from the coast waiting to hear back from the King. For the last two days the crew had passed the time by gambling, sleeping, fighting, fishing, whatever they could do really. Antemion had been gifted the captain's cabin, and despite his best efforts to refuse, Antemion had spent the journey sleeping on a mattress while the rest of the crew tackled the hammocks below deck.
Antemion had not washed in over a week, and knew he looked disgusting. His white hair was matted and dirty, hanging in clumps at the side of his face. His skin was rough and dry, and the bags under his eyes were prominent despite the good sleep he'd been having. He had run out of clothes and so had taken to recycling his outfits from the early days of the voyage. The crew had not known what to expect, and it seemed they had come under-prepared.
Antemion took a walk along the length of the ship, all the way up to the bow, and stared out over the waves with his hands behind his back. he was itching to go ashore. Isaac had ordered initially that they land and assess the region as a potential colony, but the dense woodland had complicated matters. Antemion's expedition may have come to an end before it had begun. "Inquisitor." The captain of the vessel had appeared alongside Antemion while he was deep in thought, catching him off guard and making him jump, apparently much to the captain's amusement. "What can I do for you, Captain?"
"We just received this letter. The cari flew in this morning. It bears the royal seal." Antemion raised an eyebrow and took the rolled up parchment from the captain. The wax seal broke cleanly in two, and Antemion hurriedly scanned the words. "What does it say, Sir?"
"Ready the longboats and rally the men. We're going ashore."
After a long time knelt in front of Neoma Herrin's grave, Robert was the first to stand. He walked forward and placed a large bouquet of flowers, hand-picked from the gardens this morning, at the base of the grave stone. He turned to his two brothers and two sisters, and noticed that Layna was weeping. The Prince helped his sister to her feet and took her into his arms, as she buried her face into his robes. "It's okay to cry Layna. No one will judge you." Robert's voice was soft and soothing, almost fatherly. At this she melted, full-on crying into her brother's tunic. "There is nothing I can say that will take the hurt away. Only time can heal this sort of wound. If crying helps, then cry."
"I miss her," Layna was able to mutter between sobs.
"We all do." Robert quickly felt a smaller pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as Alyssa exploded into tears as well. Robert used his arm to sweep her around in front, sheltering her between her older siblings. Ethan came along and put his enormous arms around the whole group, bringing them in tight. Marka, however, sat stone-faced on his knees, staring. "Marka? Marka, come here."
"There's nothing you can do." Marka's voice was totally devoid of emotion. "She's gone, and that's that. Crying won't bring her back." Robert sighed. Of all the children, Marka had been hit hardest by their mother's death. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't talk to anyone or go outside unless forced to. After a solid ten minute embrace, the huddle broke up. "Come, we should go. Father wants us back by sundown tomorrow."
"Robert, I need to have a word with you, if you wouldn't mind. In private," Ethan said. Robert nodded, and called over Ser Barrett to escort his siblings back to their lodgings for the night. Alone, the Herrin half-brothers began to walk slowly through the gardens. "It's Marka, Rob. I'm worried."
"I know. I am too. He hasn't been himself at all."
"No, It's more than that. this whole ordeal... I think there's something seriously wrong. If he carries on skipping meals like this, he's going to die."
"We can't force him to eat."
"No, I know we can't. We need to tackle this problem, and I think I know how."
"Care to enlighten me? Or are you just going to leave it at that?" Ethan raised an eyebrow at Robert. Suddenly he understood what Ethan was suggesting. "No. We can't. I won't do it. That poor boy is falling to pieces and you want to put him through that?"
"Rob, if there's anyone who can save him, it's Qathar. Maybe joining the Blessed will be exactly what he needs."
"Ethan, he's fifteen! You want a fifteen year old boy, struggling with the loss of his mother, to volunteer for celibacy, beatings, and self-sacrifice just to overcome grief?"
"I think it's a good path for the boy. The chances of him inheriting the throne at third in line are slim. He needs something like this."
"Well you have no chance at inheriting, are you going to join the Blessed?"
"Actually I wanted to talk to you about that as well. I'm sacred, Rob."
"What? What by?"
"Father wants me to join the Inquisition."
"And that's a problem because? The Inquisition is an honourable path for anyone, especially a Royal Bastard. No offence of course."
"None taken. I'm not cut out for that sort of work. I've adapted to life as a royal with no responsibilities, floating from woman to woman and giving the family a good image with the people. I'm not cut out for the war room. Father will listen to you. Please, don't let him do this."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. But I don't make any promises." He sighed. "You know you are the only bastard I've ever known to enjoy life as royalty? You really do take advantage."
"Thank you, Rob."
"We should really be getting back. Ser Barrett is probably struggling to handle three crying children. He's a soldier, not a parent." The two boys embraced for a final time, smiling at each other, before heading back along the trail that led out of the gardens, where their siblings were waiting for them on the road.
The Li'ivi tribes that lived up here had been troublesome as of late, growing more and more so with every passing day. Isaac had called upon Sebastius especially, planning to use the Archseer's silver tongue to sway the Li'ivi to calm. To do so, he had to meet with their makeshift council, comprised of the chiefs of the seven largest clans in the desert, and appeal to them directly. From what Sebastius had been able to decipher, the Li'vi had become increasingly aggravated at the prospect of being adopted into a foreign Kingdom, and Sebastius had to assure them that they were simply under Qethia's protection, and were free to govern themselves. If possible, Isaac wanted to strike a military agreement. He wanted to incorporate them into Qethia's ranks; the Li'ivi survived on hunting, on foot or on the back of creatures. Qethia could use some skilled archers, and archers that could shoot from horseback seemed to appeal to Isaac.
"Stop. We rest here for now." Sebastius heard Quinn's words and cursed him under his breath. The bastard had totally assumed control, and now he was stopping in a barren stretch of the desert with no shade when their destination was only a few miles away. Nevertheless, the column drew to a halt, and Sebastius dismounted. He had chosen a great white destrier for the journey, an enormous beast that looked strong enough to survive the journey. He led the horse by its reigns and tied it to a carriage; they had added several wooden outcrops to tie horses to and prevent them running away. Sebastius ripped of his cowl as he walked around to the rear of the carriage. His short blonde hair normally stood on end, but today it was limp and wet on top of his head. Sebastius looked young for his age, with brown eyes and blemish free skin even at the age of 43. He was of average height, and somewhat stocky in build, although not at all fat.
Sebastius handed his metal canteen to a soldier at the back of the carriage, who swiftly filled it from one of the many barrels stored there. Sebastius almost snatched the drink back. The water was warm and not at all refreshing, and seemed to run out far too quickly. It was a wonder to Sebastius that anyone could survive out here. He sat slumped in the shade offered by the carriage, with his head leant back against the wheel. He removed his gloves and rolled his sleeves up, eager to reach Kal'Vadash and get into something more comfortable. Tattoos adorned both forearms; the left littered with Inquisition heraldry and the right coated in religious depictions. A couple of minutes later, Quinn came and sat next to him. "How are you holding up, old man?"
"I'm an Archseer of the Inquisition," Sebastius' throat hurt when he spoke, "if this were any other situation, I'd have you flogged, but I'm too tired to care," Sebastius shot him a smile to let him know he was joking but wasn't quite sure if the Royal Guardsman had caught it. "Kal'Vadash isn't far, we should get moving." Sebastius stood and untied his horse, remounting the great white beast, while Quinn scrambled to his feet and started barking orders. Within minutes the convoy was on the move again.
It was about three hours later when they reached the city, and the sun had begun to fall back down below the peaks of the buildings in Kal'Vadash. For desert tribesmen, the city was grand. A grand palace had been erected of sandstone, and all manor of animal skins and fine velvet had been used as decoration. Sebastius' convoy had been greeted with caution and they had been denied any immediate audience. Apparently some of the chiefs were absent and the council would have to wait until their return. In the meantime, Sebastius had been granted a room at the top of a tower, with spectacular view over the entire city. It wasn't large, but the prospect of such an incredible city in the middle of a place with no real resources was a major indicator of the initiative, knowledge and skill of the Li'ivi.
The moon had come into view while Sebastius was sat at a desk, quill in hand. He was now naked apart from a pair of beige roughspun breaches, and the cool night air felt heavenly on his tired skin. He sipped from a cup of wine as he drew his letter to a conclusion, before sealing it and moving over to the window. He had been writing to inform King Isaac that they had reached the city. But now, as he gazed out over the city with the cool night's breeze on his face and a cup of wine in his hand, Sebastius could only wonder how Antemion was getting on.
+++
High Inquisitor Antemion stepped out of his cabin and onto the deck of the Brazen Arrow. The expedition had been at sea for over a week, but Antemion had lost count of the exact number of days by now. Four ships had left from the coastal city of Qikok, courtesy of Admiral Dante Rockwood, and they had been anchored for two days now. To the north, off the starboard side of the ship, all that could be seen was the vast, open expanse of the sea. That, and Chief Justicar Periscus double-bent retching into the water for about 6 hours a day. Why Periscus had volunteered to come along when he knew he got seasick was beyond Antemion. The young Justicar had taken to tying his long black hair back away from his face to avoid getting vomit caught in his locks, like he had in the first hour of the voyage.
South, however, off the port side of the ship, was an entirely different scenario. Coastline was visible in the distance, lined with trees. Trees littered the coast left and right, as far as the eye could see. Nothing but trees. The dense forest made it seem as though there was no place to land, and so the ships had stayed anchored about a mile from the coast waiting to hear back from the King. For the last two days the crew had passed the time by gambling, sleeping, fighting, fishing, whatever they could do really. Antemion had been gifted the captain's cabin, and despite his best efforts to refuse, Antemion had spent the journey sleeping on a mattress while the rest of the crew tackled the hammocks below deck.
Antemion had not washed in over a week, and knew he looked disgusting. His white hair was matted and dirty, hanging in clumps at the side of his face. His skin was rough and dry, and the bags under his eyes were prominent despite the good sleep he'd been having. He had run out of clothes and so had taken to recycling his outfits from the early days of the voyage. The crew had not known what to expect, and it seemed they had come under-prepared.
Antemion took a walk along the length of the ship, all the way up to the bow, and stared out over the waves with his hands behind his back. he was itching to go ashore. Isaac had ordered initially that they land and assess the region as a potential colony, but the dense woodland had complicated matters. Antemion's expedition may have come to an end before it had begun. "Inquisitor." The captain of the vessel had appeared alongside Antemion while he was deep in thought, catching him off guard and making him jump, apparently much to the captain's amusement. "What can I do for you, Captain?"
"We just received this letter. The cari flew in this morning. It bears the royal seal." Antemion raised an eyebrow and took the rolled up parchment from the captain. The wax seal broke cleanly in two, and Antemion hurriedly scanned the words. "What does it say, Sir?"
"Ready the longboats and rally the men. We're going ashore."
+++
Layna was fighting hard to keep the tears from rolling down her face as Isaac's children knelt before their mother's grave. The Crying Gardens had been their mother's favourite place, and so with respect to her she was buried in the small graveyard at the temple. The young woman was glad for the roar of the waterfalls, for no one could hear her sniffing and softly whimpering. Layna's hair had fallen around her face, shielding her streaming eyes from view. Isaac was not present; he had been unable to make the journey due to his duties. But Ser Barrett had been sent as their escort.
After a long time knelt in front of Neoma Herrin's grave, Robert was the first to stand. He walked forward and placed a large bouquet of flowers, hand-picked from the gardens this morning, at the base of the grave stone. He turned to his two brothers and two sisters, and noticed that Layna was weeping. The Prince helped his sister to her feet and took her into his arms, as she buried her face into his robes. "It's okay to cry Layna. No one will judge you." Robert's voice was soft and soothing, almost fatherly. At this she melted, full-on crying into her brother's tunic. "There is nothing I can say that will take the hurt away. Only time can heal this sort of wound. If crying helps, then cry."
"I miss her," Layna was able to mutter between sobs.
"We all do." Robert quickly felt a smaller pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as Alyssa exploded into tears as well. Robert used his arm to sweep her around in front, sheltering her between her older siblings. Ethan came along and put his enormous arms around the whole group, bringing them in tight. Marka, however, sat stone-faced on his knees, staring. "Marka? Marka, come here."
"There's nothing you can do." Marka's voice was totally devoid of emotion. "She's gone, and that's that. Crying won't bring her back." Robert sighed. Of all the children, Marka had been hit hardest by their mother's death. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't talk to anyone or go outside unless forced to. After a solid ten minute embrace, the huddle broke up. "Come, we should go. Father wants us back by sundown tomorrow."
"Robert, I need to have a word with you, if you wouldn't mind. In private," Ethan said. Robert nodded, and called over Ser Barrett to escort his siblings back to their lodgings for the night. Alone, the Herrin half-brothers began to walk slowly through the gardens. "It's Marka, Rob. I'm worried."
"I know. I am too. He hasn't been himself at all."
"No, It's more than that. this whole ordeal... I think there's something seriously wrong. If he carries on skipping meals like this, he's going to die."
"We can't force him to eat."
"No, I know we can't. We need to tackle this problem, and I think I know how."
"Care to enlighten me? Or are you just going to leave it at that?" Ethan raised an eyebrow at Robert. Suddenly he understood what Ethan was suggesting. "No. We can't. I won't do it. That poor boy is falling to pieces and you want to put him through that?"
"Rob, if there's anyone who can save him, it's Qathar. Maybe joining the Blessed will be exactly what he needs."
"Ethan, he's fifteen! You want a fifteen year old boy, struggling with the loss of his mother, to volunteer for celibacy, beatings, and self-sacrifice just to overcome grief?"
"I think it's a good path for the boy. The chances of him inheriting the throne at third in line are slim. He needs something like this."
"Well you have no chance at inheriting, are you going to join the Blessed?"
"Actually I wanted to talk to you about that as well. I'm sacred, Rob."
"What? What by?"
"Father wants me to join the Inquisition."
"And that's a problem because? The Inquisition is an honourable path for anyone, especially a Royal Bastard. No offence of course."
"None taken. I'm not cut out for that sort of work. I've adapted to life as a royal with no responsibilities, floating from woman to woman and giving the family a good image with the people. I'm not cut out for the war room. Father will listen to you. Please, don't let him do this."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. But I don't make any promises." He sighed. "You know you are the only bastard I've ever known to enjoy life as royalty? You really do take advantage."
"Thank you, Rob."
"We should really be getting back. Ser Barrett is probably struggling to handle three crying children. He's a soldier, not a parent." The two boys embraced for a final time, smiling at each other, before heading back along the trail that led out of the gardens, where their siblings were waiting for them on the road.
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