The clinking of steel against steel rang out in the open air as Kestrel and Eyleen approached the encampment. Multiple armored men battled each other one-on-one. To Kestrel, it seemed like war, but he knew they were only training. Between the clangs of swordplay, he heard a shout or two and the odd laugh. They seemed to number in many dozens, but there were too many to count on the spot.
Kestrel noticed near the middle of the battlefield, the only one-on-two battle he could see. Two lightly armored men, both wielding swords in each hand, dueled a steel-plated knight brandishing a large longsword with a sleek guard. The two danced around the knight, searching for openings with the tip of their swords, but found none. The knight twirled his longsword up and down, to the side and thrust it forward with kingly precision. Though he donned armor, it served him no use today. The two duelists seemed to grow more tired by the moment, but the knight did not heed. The victor was clear. And it was the same knight that Kestrel had spotted in the graveyard earlier this morning.
Kestrel looked over to Eyleen who did not seem to share his level of intrigue in the knight. Eyleen scanned the crowd, like a cat stalking a mouse, before she finally seemed to find her mark.
"Richard is right over there. Come on," she said, striding forward.
Kestrel almost broke into a jog to keep up with Eyleen, who confidently made her way through the clashing of blades. She walked a safe path, and the fighters themselves seemed to take note of their presence and did their best to move aside. However, Kestrel still, almost instinctively, dodged to the side and ducked as swords were swung around him.
Though Eyleen spotted Richard, Kestrel still could not see him among the crowd until they got close enough to a house with a slanted overhang roof. There, a man with his back turned to them, who looked like Richard, spoke with a short, gray apron-garbed, and bearded man. They stood underneath the shadow of the eave near a pit of fire surrounded by stone. A man nearby sat by a grindstone in full spin, yellow sparks flying off of an axe he was polishing. Richard had been wearing typical commoner clothing when he spoke to them in the Brimming Inn, but now, he was wearing an impressive fur coat that connected to ornate steel shoulder pads depicting what looked to be warthogs. The blacksmith whom Richard was talking to pointed behind Richard, towards them, and Richard promptly turned around.
"Most like to take their time before coming to me on their first day," he said, walking up to greet them more properly. "But you two seem comfortable with haste. I'm glad you came so early."
"I don't like waiting," said Eyleen as she crossed her arms.
"And you won't need to," said Richard. "Come, both of you. Let's speak inside."
Richard turned around and walked past the blacksmith, who nodded respectfully at Eyleen and Kestrel, who followed Richard inside the armory.
The inside looked like the remnants of an abandoned shop. Empty shelves lined the walls, and a counter with only a couple of tools and a dagger on top was propped up right in front of the entryway. One corner was packed with several wooden crates, as well as open barrels stuffed with all kinds of steel weaponry. In the other corner of the room, illuminated by the morning light spilling through one of the windows, was a table with a map of the Swarth splayed out across it. Wooden caricature pieces of two shapes, a bird and a spike, were strewn about the map. Most of the bird-shaped pieces had been set aside. It was mostly spikes that sat directly on the actual map. Richard approached the map and rounded the table so he faced Kestrel and Eyleen, who positioned themselves across from him.
"Here we have the Swarth. I'm sure you're familiar with its layout since you're both here," he began. "The spikes represent the actors of the curse. That is to say, the undead, the swamp fiends, the tainted, and any other accursed thing that blights our home."
Richard moved his finger to Hedgelen, where one of the only two bird-shaped pieces sat. "This is the piece that represents us. The resistance. The Peregrins. I'll have you two swear an oath. An oath that aligns you with our principles. A list of tenets, one could say."
"If you're planning to make us swear something that binds our allegiance to you or something, then you can count me out," said Eyleen, her words sounding harsh to Kestrel's ears, but he couldn't help but agree. He couldn't afford to tie himself down to some creed.
"No. We appreciate every hand we can get. But if that hand is no longer willing to pick up arms to fight against the curse, then home they shall go. You are not bound to this place. Only the dead are," said Richard. "However, we do not appreciate people who come here with ill intent. In the beginning, we had incidents where supposed comrades turned on each other--robbed one another of gold and gear. We cannot risk such things happening. One man is worth a thousand of those abominations."
"So you want us to promise not to steal?" asked Kestrel innocently.
"I want you to swear an oath to me, your commander in charge, that you will not join arms with the evil that threatens our world."
"Fine," sighed Eyleen.
"Repeat after me," began Richard. "I am the candle in the dark."
"I am the candle in the dark," repeated Eyleen and Kestrel in unison.
"I do not extinguish."
"I do not extinguish."
"I am the sword of good."
"I am the sword of good."
"The sword that slays evil."
"The sword that slays evil."
"This sword shall it ever slay good."
"This sword shall it ever slay good."
"Shall become evil. The candle that was extinguished."
"Shall become evil. The candle that was extinguished."
Richard cleared his throat. "Alright, the oath is sworn. You two are hereby Peregrins. The resistance against the curse that blights man. From now on, and forever, lest you ever join the forces of evil."
"That was easy," said Eyleen.
"Swearing an oath is easy. Keeping true to it, that's where it matters," said Richard.
"What now?" asked Kestrel.
"Good question," said Richard before continuing. "Take a look at this map. The Peregrins are currently situated here, in Hedgelen, and a stone's throw away at Wolfbridge Lookout. The rest of the lands have been conquered by the accursed."
"The Swarth isn't the only place in Midland with undead. I've killed a draugur or two," said Eyleen. "How could such unintelligent things win a war of territory against armed men led by a commander?"
"Are you saying I'm incompetent?" said Richard rhetorically, as if he were trying to argue.
"Well..." began Eyleen. She didn't seem to want to finish her sentence.
Richard snorted. "The reason is simple. They are not moving like unintelligent things. They are organized. Strategized."
"Are you meaning to say that they are intelligent?" asked Eyleen.
"No. I've fought hundreds of them in battle, and I can with certainty say that they possess no traits that even hint at them being able to conjure up a strategic thought. They see you, and they attack. They're empty-headed."
Eyleen cocked her brow. "Then how...?"
"We don't know," said Richard, closing his eyes for a moment. "However, what we do know is that Hedgelen is the only bastion they haven't been able to conquer. And for good reason."
Richard's finger hovered around Hedgelen in a circle. "Hedgelen is surrounded by a fortified stone wall, mounted with dragonbows. Historically, Hedgelen was the shield that protected the Swarth from outside forces. Since it's positioned at the neck of the peninsula, any attackers were forced to face Hedgelen head-on, since it was far too perilous for any army to march through the dense forests. Ever since Hedgelen has had this impenetrable wall, it has remained unconquered, even today."
"What about Grandale Keep? They're the most famous fortress in all of the Swarth!" said Kestrel, raising his voice in surprise.
"You know your history, Kestrel," said Richard. "We're not exactly sure how they fell, but we have an idea. When the curse first started spreading, we were exchanging letters with Grandale among many other settlements. The last letter they sent called for reinforcements, which we did send. That company met Lord Barngood's bannermen fleeing from their keep, claiming they were overrun. They said it happened from the inside. Grandale was never besieged."
"How could that... that's impossible..." said Kestrel, defeated. One of his uncles was stationed in Grandale. "Did anyone named Warren arrive with the survivors?"
"A friend? I wasn't the commander in charge at that time, nor did I ask each and every one's name as they arrived," said Richard. "If you didn't see this Warren at breakfast this morning, I'd advise you to check the graveyard. I'm sorry."
Eyleen put her hand on Kestrel's shoulder for a moment.
"It's okay. We weren't close," said Kestrel, shaking his head.
"What if Hedgelen falls in the same way Grandale did?" asked Eyleen. "Do you have any countermeasures?"
Richard sighed. "Unfortunately, we don't know how it happened or what caused it. I'd like to tell you we'd know exactly what to do. I suppose chaos would erupt. Every man for themselves. That actually happened once in the very beginning when we were most unprepared. When the dead rose from their graves."
"From the graveyard by the cathedral?" asked Kestrel, shocked.
"Yes. It was terrible, I won't lie. Many died. But we won, somehow."
"And if it happens again? What if we burn the bodies?" mused Eyleen.
"If the day comes where we dig up our beloved from the very ground we blessed just to burn them to ash and cinders, I suppose we shall be no better than the curse itself," said Richard, a stern look washing over his face.
"You said that Hedgelen was once the shield that protected the Swarth from outside forces," said Kestrel.
"Yes, I did," replied Richard.
"Now, it's almost like Hedgelen is protecting the outside forces from the curse..."
"I suppose that's true. It makes our cause as Peregrins even more virtuous."
"But, what happens with the outside forces, then, if Hedgelen would fall?" asked Kestrel, his voice almost a whisper.
"You ask a harrowing question, boy," said Richard. "I suppose, in that case, the Coalescence would finally have to actually give a damn about the spreading curse. It started in the Swarth. It does not intend to end with the Swarth."
Kestrel grabbed his elbow, almost nervously. This curse. It was still mysterious to him. But it frightened him to the bone. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
"But, for now, I can thankfully say that we have the situation under control. Or, at least we did. Until that creature started attacking our dispatch wagon," said Richard. "Those dispatches are our one and only connection with the outside world. They supply us with rations, equipment, materials, but most importantly, man-power. A good portion of us Peregrins these days are outside folk like you two. Volunteers in the fight against evil. Now it's clear that the risk of sending out another dispatch is far too steep. We've got to deal with that thing. Could you tell me about it?"
"It's large and deceptively quick on its feet. It fears fire. Its hide is tough. Its bite turns people into werewolves. But, it bleeds," said Eyleen.
"It bleeds? Then it's not an undead, at least. That means it has to eat. And rest. In which case it must have a lair of some sort," reasoned Richard. "Even such simple information can tell us seasoned Peregrins a lot. More than you'd think. Thank you for your report."
"Are we going to go hunt this thing now?" asked Kestrel, fearing what Richard may answer.
"Yes. But not you two. Since you're new, we'll have you join in on a simpler mission," said Richard.
"And what might that be?" asked Eyleen.
Richard moved his finger back to the map, pointing at the other only wooden bird. "This is Wolfbridge Lookout. We use it as a muster, where we gear up before heading out to slay the undead."
"Let me guess. It got overrun," scoffed Eyleen.
"No. I told you that the situation was under control. We have such good control over the area, in fact, that we are ready to expand out."
Richard's finger moved across the fields of Trynador and landed upon a place in the middle of the fields. "About here lies the old ruins of Castle Trynador. It was already decrepit before the events of the curse. About a year ago, we used the castle as a base of operations, but we got overwhelmed by attacking forces and were forced to abandon it. Now, we are planning on recapturing it."
"Aren't your forces going to run thin until you take care of that monster?" commented Eyleen.
"That's..." began Richard. "Well, it was certainly not anticipated. But we have enough sword-hands in Hedgelen to make this work. The monster problem shall be dealt with. We'll just have to split our troops and do our best with what we have. My scouts tell me that Trynador Castle is almost barren--only a few straggling draugurs and skeletons to deal with. It's supposed to be free for the taking, as far as we know."
"So what are we supposed to do? March in there and hoist a flag? I doubt it would deter the undead," said Eyleen.
"You two and a group of other Peregrins will clear out any remaining accursed that still linger there. Once that is done, you will signal to a second group carrying wagons of building material. While you set up a perimeter, they will fortify what remains of the castle."
"Then we hoist the flag!" said Kestrel with excitement.
"Simple, right?" said Richard, a smirk stretching his lips.
"Such simple plans usually have a few kinks in them," said Eyleen, looking off to the side.
"Dealing with the curse means dealing with kinks. We Peregrins adapt to the situation and act accordingly. Don't worry, you'll be teamed up with a number of experienced fighters. You'll be draping draugurs like a master in no time," said Richard.
"I'm sorry, I mean I'd really like to drape draugurs," began Kestrel. "But I lost my knife last night. I don't have a weapon. I'm okay with magic, though, if it should help."
Richard's eyes lit up in excitement. "Magic? I'm pleased to hear it! A rarity nowadays. What's your speciality? Do you do healing magic?"
"Uhm, no healing magic, unfortunately," said Kestrel, grabbing the back of his neck. "Mostly supportive magic. Like shields, creating barriers, erasing sound, and such."
"Oh, I see," said Richard, the spark in his eyes growing dim. "Well, if you're skilled, you'll be a valuable asset to us nonetheless. And, don't you worry about a weapon. I mean, take a look around you."
Richard gestured toward the corner of crates and barrels full of weapons.
"Should I just pick one?" asked Kestrel.
"No. Or, I would typically tell you to just grab one that fits in your tastes, but I got another idea," said Richard, standing up and walking over behind the counter. He bent down to pick something up, the counter hiding his form, before rising back up with a long object wrapped in a mantle. "It was such a pretty thing I just had to keep it safe."
Richard walked back to the table and set it down gently. He began unwrapping the mantle.
"Is that...?" muttered Eyleen as she leaned in to get a closer look.
Before them was a sleek, beautiful sword that shone of silver. The blade itself was engraved with the word 'evynzhul' at its base, a word in Meyrasi that Kestrel did not understand. Kestrel's attention trailed down its slender silver body, until he laid eyes on its guard--ornate and elegant, depicting a slithering dragon of gold. The handle was wrapped in smooth, expensive-looking leather. Kestrel dared not touch it, but it looked soft like silk. The pommel was elegantly round and sheening gold. An aristocrat's sword. Marquis' sword.