by Jordan Cramm
Wolflen smiled and lowered his head.
“I take it then sir that your son has not told you the news yet.” Wolflen said.
Flint’s gaze turned immediately to his son who was still stuffing his face as Wolflen finally grabbed a bowl for himself.
“Tell me what boy? Speak up!”
“I named your son as Judicator. He will govern this army as we march to Molith.” Wolflen replied before Ayvock could speak.
Ayvock swallowed the chunks of stew he had been eating, and then wiped his face as he nodded and looked back at his father. Flint seemed to be beaming now with pride as he looked on his son with new eyes now.
“My boy, commanding the army?” he asked, his hands trembling now as he raised a goblet of wine.
Wolflen nodded, but Ayvock just kept a solemn gaze locked on his father to confirm it.
“All my years,” Flint continued, “and in all my service, I never achieved great heights in the knighthood. But my boy…”
Wolflen smiled.
“He would never admit it, but he sought to join the Knighthood because of you. I have no doubt he will honor your family name.”
After a moment, Flint seemed to finally snap out of his stunned surprise. He asked then if plans were in place, and what the next move would be for the army.
“Well,” Wolflen started in, “that’s one reason I am out and about in camp. I figured he would be here. He needs to join us in council soon in the command tent. But I can tell you we make for Molith soon—even tonight if we can make ready by then. We move in advance of the Elven army. On my ride through camp, I saw your son’s horse Colt, and knew this had to be your tent. I’m slightly surprised to find Ravenshade absent however.”
Ayvock knew that last part was meant for him as a question regarding her whereabouts.
“She said she wanted to return to Peludeen and prepare. She also asked for some time alone to meditate on things…whatever that means. I know at least one other Night Elf has arrived though. I guess a few were living among Nomads not too far away just beyond the Elven lands here.”
Wolflen nodded.
After finishing some stew and some more small talk, Wolflen got directions as to the location of his father’s tent. It wasn’t hard to find either, being on the nice end of the Izenian tents, and being more well stocked with food and drink than Flint’s tent. But, such was to be expected given the position that Wolflen’s father held as Admiral. He even had what Wolflen guessed to be shipmates standing guard outside his tent, and they announced Wolflen’s arrival at once. As Wolflen dismounted from Sespa’s back once more, he thought he recognized those outside his father’s tent, and nodded. They bowed their heads reverently as Wolflen passed.
“Son…” Shamus said as he welcomed Wolflen into the tent. “Come in….have you eaten?”
Wolflen raised his hand and shook it at the wrist from left to right to say “so/so”.
“I had some stew with Ayvock and his father Flint. Their family seems to have really fallen on hard times.”
Shamus nodded as he stepped toward a chair he had in his own tent, and pulled it out so Wolflen could sit at the table there.
“Well son,” Shamus began as he poured Wolflen some juice and set it before him, “you are Steward of Akartha now, and have the power to change some things. Flint Calmbreeze got a bad run of it. Did you ever hear the story of his injury?”
Wolflen shook his head no.
“Ah, not surprising. He’s proud like that…too honorable to speak the truth if it means speaking ill of those who were supposed to do better for him. And they barely call him a Knight now. Some even mock him. Shame really.”
“So what did happen to him?” Wolflen asked.
“Well,” Shamus replied, “you know that limp he has? It slows him down some. Everyone knows that. But how he got it…well few speak of the truth on that. I remember it well. We had sailed to Izendune, and we were there to escort trade ships bringing supplies from Polithica, and we were on land, and the ships being unloaded. Nothing unusual there, but suddenly we were attacked by some Izenian raiders. So naturally, as the escort, it was the job of the Knights on the protection detail to handle the situation and keep the trade goods safe. Well there was a skirmish, but we managed to handle the situation and continue the job. In the process there were a few injuries, including his. But, the Steward of the city we were making delivery to was how do I put this…well he was an asshole. So when we asked for the services of the local healers, we were told that it was our own fault for being sloppy, and that we were lucky we weren’t punished for the mistakes made. Of course, I was exempt from this wrath, as at the time I was First Mate of the ship we were on, and it wasn’t the sailors under wrongful judgment, but the Knights. This Izenian Steward was a Rogue by trade I think, and as I said, a real asshole. Anyway, the Knights pleaded with the Steward…I can’t recall his name now, but in so doing, the Steward labeled them all as failures and stripped them of their Knighthoods.”
“But a Steward can’t do that…can they?”
Shamus offered a uncertain glance as he grabbed a plate of meat and bread and put it before his son.
“A Steward has great authority…at least in their own city. This particular jerk made quite the show. In the end, if you ask anyone now, they would say that his authority was puffed up, and that he could not rightly revoke their Knighthoods. Some of the Knights quit their service after that, but a few kept at their duties, determined to remain Knights, no matter what an Izenian Steward a continent away declared. Flint was such a Knight. At first, the mockery was relentless. Word spread about how they failed the mission. Even though they actually succeeded, it didn’t matter, because by that point their names were all but ruined. After that, the missions didn’t matter much. The important stuff was handed down to others, while those like Flint often got assignments that no one would volunteer for. That, and he had to live with that injury.”
“But how was he as a Knight before all that?”
Shamus shook his head. He wasn’t sure himself that he had the answer. So he gave the only one he could offer, which was the most basic truth.
“All I can tell you is that an inexperienced First Mate aboard a vessel was once in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had it not been for the sword of a young Knight, I would not be here today, and by extension, neither would you. When I became Admiral, I offered to have him join my crew and promised to elevate his name and position once more. He refused however, clinging to the fact that he is and always will be a Knight. He has his pride, and his honor, though they have done little I think to right the wrongs done to him.”
“But I am Steward now…of Akartha.”
His father nodded, finally sitting at the table himself.
“I can make this right. We have healers here. I can honor him in the general assembly today.”
“You could yes. And it would be right to do so. But he may fight you on the healing thing. He has learned to live with that limp. And a healing of that magnitude so many years after the injury would mean re-breaking the leg and re-tearing of the muscles. He’d miss the first battle, and I doubt he would stand for that.”
Wolflen nodded as he ate some bread and a piece of jerky.
“Father at general assembly today I am going to announce a quick march on Molith. How soon could the ships be ready?”
Shamus smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“We’re ready son. Though, managing encampment might take some time. But my ships, and my crews have been on standby. Many didn’t even disembark, knowing this might happen. So, if you can rally the people to get boarded, we can leave with the night wind up the coast and out into open water.”
Wolflen nodded.
“Back to sea once more…”
“Yeah but this time I have to take your orders….yeah, I don’t think so. You command your army and such, but my ship is my ship.”
Wolflen stood and nodded with a smile. It was clear he was in a hurry no
w. “Council soon. Pack up and meet at the command tent dad. And after that, general assembly. We will be ready by tonight. I want to sail as soon as possible.”
“Son are we running to something or from something here in this haste?”
Wolflen knew his dad was asking if they were moving for an offensive or if he hurried to avoid dealing with the Elven King. Wolflen decided it was a fair question, and answered half-cocked as he neared the tent exit.
“A bit of both maybe. See you at council.”
Shamus chuckled and shook his head as his son exited the tent. Wolflen on the other hand was brisk with his movements now through camp. He began passing the word that the men should start packing and that the horn blasts later would sound for general assembly where they would all get more details about their mission. And after a short while of spreading the word, Wolflen climbed back on Sespa’s back and rode quickly back toward the command tent.
Chapter 23: The Assembly
The council had gathered as Wolflen requested, and everyone was in attendance. Wolflen, Ayvock, Katrina, Shamus, Jakarta, Trevel, Ravenshade, and of course the Free Mages that had marched from Akartha with the army. They were all seated round the table, each entering the tent one by one until at last all were present. Tea service was not overlooked either, and was shared between all of them urgently, as all had heard the news that the plan was a quick departure. So keeping the small talk to a minimum, they finished their tea and at last got down to business.
“As I am sure everyone here knows now, I want this army boarded and sailing by nightfall. Are there any objections to this decision, or input that I should know about?”
“Well,” Jakarta replied first, “I can’t say I am thrilled about the hastiness of this plan. We have no information about what we may be walking into except that we assume we are tracking a Werewolf horde. The Izenian army gathered here may be enough to overcome it alone, but maybe not. But having said that, I also recognize that time is of the essence, and perhaps haste in this endeavor is wise….just the same, there it is.”
Trevel was nodding, and he wasn’t the only one. They all were at the similar impasse, not knowing which way would be the right way and which the mistake if one were actually worse than the other.
“I say,” Ayvock remarked, “that it could be a good test to see how we function right now. I’m hardly a seasoned commander myself. But I know that sometimes a rushed scenario can test the nerves, and can develop skills sorely needed in times such as this. Besides, if the end result of these times is our death, then what difference does it make if it’s this week or the next?”
“Kind of a morbid sentiment don’t you think?” Katrina asked.
Ayvock merely shrugged.
“We’ve been training for a while in how to move in battle, how to swing our swords. Wolflen has also been training his magic, but this is the first time we will be training as a cohesive unit. There are bound to be issues. The sooner we get at it, the sooner we iron out those issues.” Ayvock stated simply.
Wolflen looked to his dad, who was nodding his agreement now with Ayvock’s statement.
“We move tonight. Jakarta, are the Paladins ready?”
“And eager,” Jakarta replied, “As soon as they heard Werewolf hunt, they were itching to go. Molith however offers more challenges than just Werewolves. Gargoyles, undead, and very large beasts. Having an army will help, but this will not likely be a picnic. I hope our eagerness is not too hasty. But, we are ready. I will say this though…when we land upon Molith, we need to set men to the task of creating a new encampment. Depending on what resources we can scavenge, I would suggest creating some kind of base camp there with walls and watch towers if possible.”
“Very good.” Wolflen replied, “We will make it a priority. Mage Dawson, can you Free Mages handle such a task? Your magic would aid in construction and protection.”
Mage Dawson nodded.
“We will help however we can.”
“Good,” Wolflen said, “For now though, let us call general assembly. I wish to address the army and inform them officially of our plans.”
“Wait son,” Shamus interjected, “Each of my ships can carry about 300 souls. But with new weaponry I wouldn’t push more than 250. What are our numbers currently?”
“Two-thousand and twenty four left of the Izenian force currently.” Mage Starn replied, “Including those of us in this room.”
“The Paladins here number Four hundred and twenty right now,” Jakarta remarked, “though really Katrina should be leading them.”
“Okay,” Wolflen said, pausing a moment to consider. “M’lady select one hundred of them to sail with us. You and I will sail with my father, Ayvock, and Ravenshade. Jakarta and Trevel, you will each sail separately and divide the remaining Paladins aboard two ships, so we will still have Izenians onboard to crew the ships until we land. You Free Mages I charge with dividing the rest of the army as you will. Are there any questions?”
The room was silent.
“Good, then this will be the last official council meeting until we reach Molith. M’lady Katrina may we make use of some of your magic hawks so that we may pass communication between ships?”
“Of course.”
“Okay then. We all know the plan. Let’s get to it.”
“I will have the guards outside sound the horns for general assembly,” Ayvock said simply as they all stood and began exiting the tent.
Only Wolflen and Katrina remained, and she only did so because she noticed that it was his intent.
“Nicely done,” she stated.
“Thanks. The hard part is still ahead though. We haven’t entered battle yet. But there’s still plenty of time to panic while we are at sea. Believe me, on the open water, time is both friend and foe.”
“I remember some of your stories about it. But this time I think it will be different. This time I will be there to keep you company, and you will be leading an expedition with a purpose, not simply serving in the navy of your people.”
“True on both accounts. Thank Kesper for you.”
“I thank him for you every day.”
“Will you stand beside me at general assembly?” he asked, “I am still a little nervous.
She nodded her agreement.
At last they left the tent, and the horns were already blowing to announce the general assembly being called. They sounded blast after blast, over and over, in a tone and pattern known to the Izenian force. They began to gather, all leaving their tents and respective areas to form formation lines as close to the command tent as they could. Wolflen and Katrina simply watched for a few moments as the soldiers fell into place. Ayvock too was impressed, as in fact it was the first time he himself had been a part of such an assembly of soldiers.
Outside the command tent a handful of soldiers were carrying a few sets of steps and a platform that would stand between them. It took little time, as the steps were already made in advance, and the platform itself was simply a large slab of wood that lay on top of each set of steps. No one bothered to nail it down, but they wouldn’t need to either. Wolflen smiled as he looked on, until it was ready, and then with Katrina’s hand clasped in his own, he began walking with her at his side, climbing the steps and at last standing about ten feet off the ground to address the Izenian army for the first time.
“Soldiers of Akartha…I am Wolflen Darkmoon, son of Admiral Shamus, and first War Mage of our people…I…”
A loud wave of cheers rang out through the crowd, and Wolflen had to pause his speech a moment to allow the crowd to settle down in silence once more.
“I thank each of you for joining us during such times. You are all soldiers, so I won’t try to sweet talk you about what is ahead of us. Nor will I imagine what we may face ahead, for in truth I do not know much yet. What I can tell you, is that we move to track a Werewolf horde on the continent of Molith. Also, I can tell you that we leave tonight. In a few moments, I want each of you to return to your tents, an
d begin packing. For most of you, you will get your ship assignments from the Free Mages of Akartha. I’d ask that you each do your best to keep rank and file as we board so as to make it a smooth process. No doubt the smaller boats will have to make several trips to get to your ships out at sea, so as soon as you are packed, make for the coast. But before we begin, I would like to address another matter. Flint Calmbreeze, please come forward and join me.”
Soldiers in the crowd began looking left and right, and all around them. A few of them knew Flint, but many did not. Just the same as Flint came limping toward the front, the other soldiers made way for his approach. It was slow going, but at last Flint climbed the platform as requested. Of course, he had no idea why he had been summoned, though he feared it was to be retired permanently from service. Katrina also wondered who the summoned man was, and why he had been summoned.
“Kneel if you are able,” Wolflen said firmly.
Flint looked puzzled, but after a momentary pause, he knelt down before Wolflen. The crowd was in a hush and only a few whispers escaped the silence.
“Flint Calmbreeze,” Wolflen said loudly, “your service to Akartha has been long and honorable. However, your namesake and reputation have long suffered…some say you are scarcely a Knight while others deny it all together. Few in the crowd perhaps knew your name before this moment, but they know it now.”
Wolflen pulled one of his swords free from its sheath and placed it symbolically on Flint’s shoulders. Then Wolflen grew louder as he spoke again.
“I, Wolflen Darkmoon, Steward of Akartha and War Mage of our people, Knight you Sir Flint Calmbreeze. Rise, and shake the doubts of things past free of your namesake. Be recognized with honor once more.”
Flint was slow to stand, partially because of his leg tremors, but also partially because he was overwhelmed by the honor. He thanked Wolflen at once and bowed his head. But before he could take more than two steps backwards, Wolflen stopped him.