by Kell Inkston
Contents
Woodcastle
Woodcastle
36
Contents
Woodcastle3
Copyright4
Chapter One: A World Close Together7
Chapter Two: From the Front to the Back14
Chapter Three: New and Old27
Chapter Four: Into the Woods37
Chapter Five: Unexpected inhabitants of the Golden Swamp45
Chapter Six: Settling into Liefland60
Chapter Seven: Initial Relaxatiations*72
Chapter Eight: Serious Force Alpha: The Return of the Grizzled War Veterans78
Chapter Nine: Hide and Go Seek89
Chapter Ten: Working Hard, I see!96
Chapter Eleven: Being a Knight111
Chapter Twelve: Cookin’ up a Sweet Escape121
Chapter Thirteen: A Love for the Impossible Realm136
Chapter Fourteen: Counter-Interrogation152
Chapter Fifteen: A Bad Deal161
Chapter Sixteen: Bearings, Natural or Otherwise171
Chapter Seventeen: Hands tied behind the back181
Chapter Eighteen: Ticking…189
Chapter Nineteen: Coming and Going196
Chapter Twenty: The Unstoppable High Overlord and his Delicate Children207
Chapter Twenty One: Two of a Kind222
Chapter Twenty Two: Dangerous Wrong-doer brutally murders innocent elves without mercy239
Chapter Twenty Three: The Plan248
Chapter Twenty Three and a half: Goodbye as we know it253
Chapter Twenty Four: Contact and Receive (AKA: Chapter Twenty Four: Dresmond Ulveroth Edition)255
Chapter Twenty Four: Prove your Strength (AKA: Chapter Twenty Four: Hos’Rayull Edition)261
Chapter Twenty Four: Soon to be Ex-Friends (AKA: Chapter Twenty Four: Meeo Letlind Edition)267
Chapter Twenty Five: The Execution283
Chapter Twenty Six: The Butcher enter his Workplace294
Chapter Twenty Six and a Half: The Commoner’s way of Entering306
Chapter Twenty Seven: Cower and Squirm in the wake of my tactical dominance!309
Chapter Twenty Eight: Not much better Outside316
Chapter Twenty Nine: The Table and The Guest321
Chapter Thirty: The Walk Back336
Chapter Thirty One: Nobility of the Grinning Court343
Chapter Thirty Two: The Requested Secret349
A mysterious note!364
Appendix368
About the author:382
Woodcastle
The Courts Divided Book 1
By Kell Inkston
Copyright 2014-2018 by Kell Inkston. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For the one with the heart, hands, and crown:
I impart this gift to you.
Chapter One: A World Close Together
We look down on a far-off war camp in the north, a raging blizzard blowing through the tacked-down post with merciless vigor.
A soldier bursts into a warm tent, and our story begins:
"Ma’am, the Eastern Force is making an advance!" He shouts to the lady in the tent as he works his gauntlets over his cold, numb hands.
One of the leaders of the Northern front assault, Lord Knight General Order, rises up from her chair to a lean.
"You mean to say they're coming… *hic* here?" she says, massaging her temples as she takes one last glance at her glass of blackwater forty.
"Yes, ma’am! Please do something!"
The rather short, young-looking lady rubs the wear from her eyes. "What about the other mages?"
"They're either drained or reassigned to the counter-espionage op. Besides, we'd need fifty of them to do what you could alone!"
She takes in a deep breath to push out a disgusted sigh. "It has to be me, then?"
"Yes, ma’am. Don't you remember when you gave your instructions?"
Order looks to the side, immersed in thought for a moment. "Can't say I remember," she says. The officer pauses in front of his official and looks over her reddened face and short figure, carelessly slouched at her feet.
"...You're drunk, General?"
"I wouldn't say 'drunk' so much as 'under the effects of a’…” She sighs. “Yeah, whatever,” she says with a shrug.
"Ma’am, this is serious, they'll be here in minutes. They've already crossed the valley and they're on their way up!"
Order's quiet a moment and then nods in solemn acceptance. Someone has to do it, she’s sure—such is the weight of being simultaneously the front’s commander and most valued archmage. She lifts herself up with shocking ease for someone that’s downed most of a fifth in an hour.
"Alright. I'll take care of this," she says before passing the guard and exiting the tent. Immediately she’s bitten by the star-white winds of the North, chilling her, but ineffective in causing her to shiver. The white-haired witch knight with millennia of age under her belt strides across the camp, sparing quick glances to the masses of terrified soldiers and magicians rushing about and forming ranks as they prepare for a hail of gunfire to come tearing into the camp. She moves past all of them to the rim of the front and looks down the steep, snow-clad hill towards the enemy camp about three kilometers down.
Away about a hundred meters and climbing up with steady determination are about four hundred Easterners, cozy in their long wool uniforms and Kevlar helmets, and ever-so confident with those strange, metallic "fire-arms" ready at their hips. The front rank of men spots Order, clothed in but a simple set of winter wear, and they call for the others to prepare the rifles in that peculiar military code of theirs. The Lord Knight General stares at the battalion of men struggling up the mountain for only a moment more, and then moves in to thwart them.
With the fluttering grace of a butterfly, she raises her hand, speaks a few sacred words, and then moves her finger across her vision of the men.
Suddenly, a squadron of innocent-looking snowballs forms on the edge of the hill and begins rolling down towards the enemy force. The orbs of white fluff gain size and weight as they tumble towards their targets, becoming formidable boulders of compacted drift in seconds. Order watches with an amused look as the small dots of brown down the hill scatter and retreat as the massive snow-boulders smash through their ranks. She then begins moving her hands as if shaping clay, all while speaking in a second arcane language. Just as the exhausted group of riflemen restart their assault, the boulders of snow form arms and legs and begin ramming into and toppling the soldiers as if they were blades of grass. The soldiers open fire on the titans of snow, each bullet hitting their mark, but not one slowing their targets. A single soldier aims high and shoots for her. To the soldier’s horror, the bullet stops mid-flight just a meter from her and drops innocently on the ground; but such would be expected of The White Witch Queen of the West: Lord Knight General Order, slayer of the ancient dragons and High Protector of the Realm, also a functional drunk.
She smacks her lips tiredly as she watches the men below, blasted away from the strength of the golems she had created. She really wishes she’d brought her blackwater with her, but duty comes first to everything else.
Only a minute passes of the Easterners battling the golems, and then the tide turns for good. The soldiers, some with broken limbs and concussions, run, limp, or are carried away back to their camp. Order nods, playing a victorious tune in her head as she severs the magical link between herself and the golems, reducing them to innocent piles of snow once more. Behind her, roughly three dozen soldiers and camp-folk cheer at
the might of the second-in-command of the Royal Knights, an archmage hero known by all in the realm and revered by nearly as many.
She rises to her feet and starts back to camp to finish her beloved libation when her path is intercepted by a frazzled looking messenger. She takes some humor seeing that it’s the exact same man from just five minutes ago.
"Ma’am! The Lord Knight Captain wants you over on chat-stone!" the boy says, presenting Order with the large red crystal. Order nods, says "thanks," and then raises the gem to her lips.
"Daniel?" Order says into the rock, causing it to glow in response to her voice.
"Good to hear you," comes a voice from the magic stone, belonging to none other than the great and mighty Lord Knight Captain himself.
"What do you need?" Order asks.
"I have an urgent assignment that needs taking care of."
"…And here I thought I was supposed to keep the Easterners from adva-"
"Yes, and now you will be letting Generosity handle that."
She raises a slim, snow-white brow. "Alright… guess this has gotta be pretty damn important, then," Order says, her slurred speech ringing through the stone. Redemption is quiet a moment before responding.
"... Have you been drinking again?" Redemption asks.
Order pauses as she thinks of her response.
"Maybe."
"Dear, think of your image." His tone is concerned, but firm.
"What image?" she asks with a laugh.
"People get weirded out when they see a seven-thousand year old archmage drinking for kicks."
"And what's the problem with drinking for kicks?" She asks curtly.
The stone flashes with light as Redemption releases a sharp sigh from his end. "You... nevermind. Get back to HQ for your new assignment. It's something only you can do."
"If you say so."
"I do say so. Now get over here."
"Got it. I’m on my way," she says before the glow of the stone dies out, signifying the person on the other line has severed his mana-link to his shard of the gem.
Order returns the stone to the messenger and returns to the commander’s tent to find her dog, Parvo, has licked clean her glass of blackwater. She gathers her armor, a shining white mithril plate-suit enchanted to resist anything from a mere eastern bullet to a tower falling on her. She always gets a chuckle when people always ask her how she can see through the helmet visor if it’s just an uninterrupted plate of steel, as The Western Kingdoms weren’t the most magically-advanced civilization in history, or something.
A few minutes later, she’s suited up and ready for whatever catastrophe Knight Redemption can throw at her. Finally she grasps the dimensional sheath of her legendary sword, known as Monument by most who know it.
Her mind begins simmering on what possible mission Redemption could have for her as she pats Parvo goodbye, exits her tent, and makes her way to the summoning tent across camp.
Could it be Chaos? Maybe he's attacking a capital city... or maybe The Trench has burst open to declare war on the above-ground peoples. Have the old dragons returned, or the titans? she wonders, eager to know what cataclysm she'll face this time. Whatever it is, it must be a major threat to the Western Kingdoms if she was asked for personally.
She gets to the summoning tent, tells the magicians her destination, and waits a few minutes for them to compose the summoning circle leading to the Royal Knights Headquarters. Following is a complex ordeal involving chanting, arcane scripting, and lots and lots of nice-smelling candles. A portal tears right through the fabric of reality and Order steps in to traverse the distance of mountains and rivers in but a matter of seconds.
Chapter Two: From the Front to the Back
She steps from New Reinen's space gate, a large rune-engraved portal that serves as either a beginning or an end for magic travels like this. She steps down from the gate into the center square, glances over three young recruits, two of which who promptly salute and one that just stumbles in shock and confusion, and then she passes the training grounds into the executive office of the Royal Knights of The Old Kingdom of Reinen.
Order stands in the entryway a moment, takes a breath, and waves a hand along her cheek as she speaks words from one of the many magic languages she knows. Suddenly, her dilated pupils sharpen in focus. She finds magic that quickly neutralizes alcoholic influences to be among her favorites
Order passes through the golden halls, each window ridged with flower planters and trophies of crusades long past. She moves across the regal burgundy carpets up to Redemption's office, where the birdsongs coming from the open windows overtake the busy atmosphere of the center headquarters. Sitting in one of the chairs to the side is a hulking, broad knight, a Dragon-Kin: the crossbreed of human and dragon that once threatened the entirety of human civilization. To his side is a mace the size of a person and looking as if it were hewn from the solid rock of the southern canyons.
"Knight Law," Order greets him, bowing her head as she passes. The hulking mass of scales, teeth and muscles nods back.
"Sir... By the way, Lord Knight Captain Redemption told me to wait for you and some third knight," he says, eying the chair next to him. Order stops at the door to Redemption's office.
"I prefer ma’am, if you don’t mind… So, you and I and someone else will be going on an assignment?"
"S'what I've been told, ma’am," he mutters through his bulwark of white teeth.
She raises her brows as she turns about. “Must be really important," Order says, taking a seat next to Law in the rose-scented hall, laying her gaze on the rays of sun gleaming with subdued majesty from the stained-glass windows. Order’s quiet a moment and looks at nothing in particular as Law inspects his boots.
"S'what have you been up to during the war?" Law asks, breaking the silence.
"I've been with the Blue Company up north," Order responds.
"Leading, sir?"
"Yes."
"Ahh- I hear it's been fairly easy for you."
"It has. No matter how advanced the East's technology becomes, magic is realms above it."
"Agreed."
"And yourself?"
"I've been in the Yellow Company," Law says, his words skewed with a sigh. Order raises a brow.
"How is it up front nowadays?"
Law shakes his head. "I have no idea why the D.R.’s office didn't put you there. This war would be over. Your magic can resist any of their cowardly monstrosities of science—you could just walk into camp and kill them all, I reckon."
"I think you overestimate my ability," Order says, staring straight ahead and smirking on the side of her facing away from Law.
"I'm certain you're just being humble, sir."
"Perhaps... but a Dragon-Kin like you wouldn't have a problem with being on the front lines, would you?"
"Not really, my armor s'thick it deflects bullets; only thing I need to look for are the cannon shots."
"Cannon?" Order asks, turning her head to the word. Law shakes his head, his long mail clinking with each change of direction.
"Really big firearms- saw one shoot a Ragnivanian boy's head right off."
"Like magic bolts?"
"Yes."
Order draws back into her seat and raises a brow in intrigue. "Interesting... but to be honest I don't think I would be of as much help there with you."
"Why's that?"
She raises her brows frankly. "I don't kill people if I can prevent it."
He squints an eye. "What do you mean?"
“Personal policy, don’t worry about it.”
“If you’d grant me the leave, I’d be curious to know.”
She smiles, takes a breath, and nods. "I've been around way too long, Law. I lost my taste for killing people quite a while ago- especially innocents who are forced to fight by their rulers. It’s easy to look at them like the enemy, but I’ve seen so many sides of so many wars, I know it’s never just as simple as killing bad guys," Order says calmly. Law snorts
out a breath of hot air, staring at the wall alongside her.
"You m-… defeated many dragons in the Extermination Wars. They feel as much pain as a human would; what makes them so different? Are you so averse to killing humans simply because they’re your own kind?" Law asks, turning his gaze to her, though not moving his head to do so. Order pauses in thought. For a moment she considers answering honestly, but thinks better of it.
"I didn't hate the dragons, Rayull," Order says, calling Law by his true name, "but they threatened humanity, the fairies, the orcs, and everyone else," she adds. Law scrapes his boot against the marble floor with an easy motion as he lets out a quick, gentle scoff.
"Call me Law. And then after you removed the dragons, you removed the orcs. After the orcs came anything else you didn’t like the looks of. Only the fairies still have their own land outside of humanity's grasp, and that’s only thanks to their considerations with the W.K.D.R.."
Order raises her brows, still not looking over to Law. "That's not my responsibility, and it's not my fault. They waged war, and you need to remember I'm a soldier, not a ruler. I don’t make the decisions."
"S'why do you suddenly turn away from killing humans?
"I follow my orders. If I'm placed on the front line, I'll do it and I'll take care of it- that's it. I won’t enjoy it, but I’ll do it if I have to. I’d rather send them back home with a warning and a story, rather than on shields," Order says, joining her hands together pensively. Law stares at Order for a few seconds and then turns back to inspect his weapon.
"I suppose that's sensible, ma’am. I just think you could be of more help elsewhere. If you cared s'much about human lives, why don't you just march into the Eastern Capital and threaten to kill him if he doesn't stop the war?"
"You know my real job, Law."
"The ‘Chaos Slayer?’"
"It's the popular title, but I hate it personally."
"Why's that?"
Finally, she glances his way as she lets out a scoff. "It implies that I ever killed him."