Fall, 1349
Logan trudged through the Autumn mud clad in a worn overcoat covering his new lamellar armor and kettle helm. Ahead lay Mansker’s Station, the fortified blockhouse that served as an organizing point for more remote outposts with a large dovecote built nearby to receive any carrier pigeons bearing messages from the distant stations or the outside world.
By now Stanton had erected additional defenses: a new ring of outposts, a circle of punji sticks, a new stone church to act as a bunker, and a network of protective cellars, complementing the reset traps, the repaired palisade walls and wooden towers and siege engine platform. The greatest defense however was the Town Guardian and his Forester. Logan and Mera patrolled the regions around town every day, destroying any bands of rebels or bandits the dragon detected. It almost no longer seemed necessary: Freeland Brother attacks had greatly tapered off, and those that the Forester and Guardian did come across were increasingly dispirited and eager to flee.
Mera lay basking on a large rock outcropping nearby, casually awaiting any messages of threats approaching Stanton. While Mansker’s Station was built largely as a defensive checkpoint, it was also positioned at this specific location to be be near a favorite rest spot for the Town Guardian. For the last year or so, there had not any confrontation that could not be handled in the span of a few minutes, and so the dragon mainly enjoyed himself sunbathing.
From the blockhouse, Rabia waved to the Forester and came out, bearing a message.
“There’s been another sighting of armed peasants moving through the Pripyat Marshes.” The blacksmith stated, handing Logan the note as the Forester pat Mera on the flank.
Logan folded up the parchment.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“But if they cross the Moorlands they could-”
“The rebels have been destroyed.”
Rabia was stunned. “What?”
“The war’s finally over.”
For a minute, the blacksmith didn’t know what to say. Then the big man shook his head.
“About time.”
***
Eighty miles away, the Freeland Brother Rebellion had been crushed at the Triford, where 80,000 Thematic troops in 3 thematic armies descended on the city held by Mitchconnell and the 60,000 remnants of the once-great rebel army. There, after weeks of hard fighting, the forces of the King seized the ridges overlooking the city, set up siege engines, and pounded the city to bits. Caught with no hope of escape, the rebels slaughtered everyone, including themselves in a massive group suicide.
“Liza brought the confirmation.” Logan concluded.
“Mitchconnell?” Rabia asked.
“They say he is dead, killed himself with poisoned wine. Along with all of his followers.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“Heavens.”
“Pack your things, and tell your troops to do so as well. We don’t need any of this anymore.” The Forester finished. “Tonight, we will all celebrate the victory, and tomorrow, we will try to get back with our lives.”
The blacksmith nodded, turning back towards his squad at Mansker’s Station. “So much for the ‘Righteous Will of the People’ eh, Logan?” Rabia quipped as he headed back.
“The ‘Righteous Will of the People’ is a nightmare.” Logan called back. ”I’d be fine just settling for the acceptance of the people.”
As Rabia headed off to the blockhouse Logan turned back to the dragon, who had been listening in on the whole conversation with idle amusement.
“So Mera, what do you think?”
“What’s there to say, Logan?" The dragon replied. "We survived yet another war, and things are looking up.”
The Forester decided to ask that nagging question that had hung over him since the dragon's tardy intervention. “So now that that’s over, where did you disappear off to during the siege? You were pretty damn late.”
Mera lifted his head. “Apologies, Logan. I was busy with something else that came up.”
“And what would that be?”
Mera sat up onto his haunches and pointed to the large scar in his abdomen, where something had impaled itself through. Logan had pretended not to notice it for years.
“Heavens. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why are you smiling about it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Logan frowned at the dragon’s condescending grin and casual dismissal but he sighed and clambered up the rock outcropping, joining his reptilian companion while watching Rabia’s squad finish breaking camp.
“I’m still worried, Mera.” The Forester stated as he sat besides the dragon. “The Freeland Brothers revealed some deep fissures in Auxia. Even before the war the kingdom was bogged down in the Back Valley and bankrupt. The lords are corrupt and self-serving. The merchants are driving people out of their livelihoods. The peasants are poorly treated and unhappy enough to die for a better chance. The Freeland Brothers gave all the wrong answers but they asked the right questions. I don’t know what’s going to happen next in this land, but I fear for it.”
“That’s very nice.” Mera offhandedly replied to Logan’s concerns. “Now the sun is telling me to bask in its warm glow, and I am inclined to listen.”
And with that the dragon lowered his head atop the rock and closed his eyes. In a few minutes, Mera was gently snoring.
As Logan waited, another messenger pigeon suddenly flew over and landed in the dovecote, and after a bit of commotion Rabia arrived with the ten militiamen under his command. The blacksmith was shaking his head.
“I have more news.” Rabia stated as he handed over the new message. “This is from Dacinia.”
“Really.”
“Yah. Remember how when we were leaving the Northlands the Other Men were still being hit by the Normad’s Plague, and then the Redeemer Lords tried to conquer them?”
“Sure?”
“Well it looks like there’s now a Dacinian plague spreading to humans.”
Toots and the Maytals-Pressure Drop
Patreon doodle form the great keihound!
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Keihound/
Logan trudged through the Autumn mud clad in a worn overcoat covering his new lamellar armor and kettle helm. Ahead lay Mansker’s Station, the fortified blockhouse that served as an organizing point for more remote outposts with a large dovecote built nearby to receive any carrier pigeons bearing messages from the distant stations or the outside world.
By now Stanton had erected additional defenses: a new ring of outposts, a circle of punji sticks, a new stone church to act as a bunker, and a network of protective cellars, complementing the reset traps, the repaired palisade walls and wooden towers and siege engine platform. The greatest defense however was the Town Guardian and his Forester. Logan and Mera patrolled the regions around town every day, destroying any bands of rebels or bandits the dragon detected. It almost no longer seemed necessary: Freeland Brother attacks had greatly tapered off, and those that the Forester and Guardian did come across were increasingly dispirited and eager to flee.
Mera lay basking on a large rock outcropping nearby, casually awaiting any messages of threats approaching Stanton. While Mansker’s Station was built largely as a defensive checkpoint, it was also positioned at this specific location to be be near a favorite rest spot for the Town Guardian. For the last year or so, there had not any confrontation that could not be handled in the span of a few minutes, and so the dragon mainly enjoyed himself sunbathing.
From the blockhouse, Rabia waved to the Forester and came out, bearing a message.
“There’s been another sighting of armed peasants moving through the Pripyat Marshes.” The blacksmith stated, handing Logan the note as the Forester pat Mera on the flank.
Logan folded up the parchment.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“But if they cross the Moorlands they could-”
“The rebels have been destroyed.”
Rabia was stunned. “What?”
“The war’s finally over.”
For a minute, the blacksmith didn’t know what to say. Then the big man shook his head.
“About time.”
***
Eighty miles away, the Freeland Brother Rebellion had been crushed at the Triford, where 80,000 Thematic troops in 3 thematic armies descended on the city held by Mitchconnell and the 60,000 remnants of the once-great rebel army. There, after weeks of hard fighting, the forces of the King seized the ridges overlooking the city, set up siege engines, and pounded the city to bits. Caught with no hope of escape, the rebels slaughtered everyone, including themselves in a massive group suicide.
“Liza brought the confirmation.” Logan concluded.
“Mitchconnell?” Rabia asked.
“They say he is dead, killed himself with poisoned wine. Along with all of his followers.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“Heavens.”
“Pack your things, and tell your troops to do so as well. We don’t need any of this anymore.” The Forester finished. “Tonight, we will all celebrate the victory, and tomorrow, we will try to get back with our lives.”
The blacksmith nodded, turning back towards his squad at Mansker’s Station. “So much for the ‘Righteous Will of the People’ eh, Logan?” Rabia quipped as he headed back.
“The ‘Righteous Will of the People’ is a nightmare.” Logan called back. ”I’d be fine just settling for the acceptance of the people.”
As Rabia headed off to the blockhouse Logan turned back to the dragon, who had been listening in on the whole conversation with idle amusement.
“So Mera, what do you think?”
“What’s there to say, Logan?" The dragon replied. "We survived yet another war, and things are looking up.”
The Forester decided to ask that nagging question that had hung over him since the dragon's tardy intervention. “So now that that’s over, where did you disappear off to during the siege? You were pretty damn late.”
Mera lifted his head. “Apologies, Logan. I was busy with something else that came up.”
“And what would that be?”
Mera sat up onto his haunches and pointed to the large scar in his abdomen, where something had impaled itself through. Logan had pretended not to notice it for years.
“Heavens. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why are you smiling about it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Logan frowned at the dragon’s condescending grin and casual dismissal but he sighed and clambered up the rock outcropping, joining his reptilian companion while watching Rabia’s squad finish breaking camp.
“I’m still worried, Mera.” The Forester stated as he sat besides the dragon. “The Freeland Brothers revealed some deep fissures in Auxia. Even before the war the kingdom was bogged down in the Back Valley and bankrupt. The lords are corrupt and self-serving. The merchants are driving people out of their livelihoods. The peasants are poorly treated and unhappy enough to die for a better chance. The Freeland Brothers gave all the wrong answers but they asked the right questions. I don’t know what’s going to happen next in this land, but I fear for it.”
“That’s very nice.” Mera offhandedly replied to Logan’s concerns. “Now the sun is telling me to bask in its warm glow, and I am inclined to listen.”
And with that the dragon lowered his head atop the rock and closed his eyes. In a few minutes, Mera was gently snoring.
As Logan waited, another messenger pigeon suddenly flew over and landed in the dovecote, and after a bit of commotion Rabia arrived with the ten militiamen under his command. The blacksmith was shaking his head.
“I have more news.” Rabia stated as he handed over the new message. “This is from Dacinia.”
“Really.”
“Yah. Remember how when we were leaving the Northlands the Other Men were still being hit by the Normad’s Plague, and then the Redeemer Lords tried to conquer them?”
“Sure?”
“Well it looks like there’s now a Dacinian plague spreading to humans.”
Toots and the Maytals-Pressure Drop
Patreon doodle form the great keihound!
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Keihound/
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