“I have been gone for thirty seconds and you are already fighting, Miranda?” Merewen demanded. She looked around the room and went to stand by the wall.
Miranda has wanted to say something but decided not to and just went back and leaned against the wall again. Soon Iowen saw why, as not far behind Merewen, an old man was radiating with what she could only describe as divinity.
Is that… archbishop Nashimaeal? THE highest representative of the church of Palai?
He was cleanly shaved, had short grey hair and overall felt as if he is shining with inner light. He donned heavy Palai robes, decorated but not overly so. The man bowed in a greeting as he had entered.
“It seems we have not yet had the honor of meeting, Nashimaeal, pleasure to meet you,” he opened warmly.
“Iowen,” she stuttered, completely overwhelmed.
Seriously? SERIOUSLY?
“Why don’t you go bring some wine, Miranda, we might as well have a drink now that we have all met,” the archbishop smiled. Miranda grunted and left the room.
“I don’t think I should be here. That I have the right to be here,” Iowen said cautiously.
“But of course you do, as far as I understand you will be our insider for the upcoming months. It is good to get to know each other now that we have time and space for it,” archbishop Nashimaeal countered. “Please take a seat, Iowen,” he offered her a chair. Iowen was completely overwhelmed and took the seat. Miranda came back with the barrel.
Elias brought a bunch of gold trimmed cups and got ready to serve the wine. The girl struggled with the barrel, barely holding it up, but everybody seemed to have known better than to offer her help.
“What are we drinking, Elias?” smiled the archbishop as he saw Elias starting the barrel, pouring the first cup and examining it.
“Something from the south, likely eastern Xona, about twelve years old, dry,” Elias evaluated upon tasting a little.
“Sounds good,” confirmed the archbishop as he took a cup. A cup was given to everyone present.
The archbishop took the word for the toast.
“I don't know how much you have heard about the upcoming operation, but please allow me to offer a summary, so we all get on the same page, so to speak,” the archbishop opened up and everyone stopped talking.
“This is an operation blessed by my humble self and great general Castus himself. It overshadows all other activities in terms of priority,” he started.
Okay…
“Final goal is to shatter the slavery business conducted across the land to a point beyond any chance of recovery. We shall target their political support, leadership, facilities and funds, all while using their self-organized tournament as a smoke-screen. Lucas decides the engagement rules per city, just try to not overdo it, remove whoever needs to be removed but either do so undetected should the removal be unrighteous or make it a statement should it be well received. In case of trouble, remember that you have the entire Holy Order of Palai behind you and it shall come to get you out of whatever trouble you may get yourself into. As for the individual positions, everyone please disclose what name and role you been assigned for the operation.” The archbishop took a large gulp from the cup.
Assigned name? Role? By who?
“I shall start,” he continued, “I am archbishop Nashimaeal, first of his name and I shall be in charge of the political discourse which shall push for simultaneous slavery ban in, ideally, all major cities upon the day of the end of the competition,” he finished.
“Merewen Methot, I shall lead the military operations on the ground should events escalate. I shall be the commanding general for any and all detachments we shall have in the given area,” Meweren explained before she took a drink from her cup.
“Miranda, infiltration and intelligence gathering.”
“Elias la Grace, I shall be the magical support for this lovely trip. Water, wind, ice... anything and everything that falls from the heavens is at my command and your disposal,” Elias smiled charmingly.
My turn. What the hell do I say?
“Iowen Drach’Tea, I have no idea what the hell is going on or what I am supposed to be doing later, but I hope someone will tell me,” she admitted in a defeated tone and turned to Lucas in hope for salvation. The fucking bastard is enjoying this!
“Typical Lucas, doesn’t say shit before it’s too late to get out of it,” Miranda snorted.
“It’s alright” the archbishop said in a peaceful and warm tone “Lucas?” he turned to him.
“She’s the mole. She will find whatever information we need from inside the arena, especially in case we have a hard time moving around.”
Are you kidding me?
“Wait… so… you are something like a leader of this whole thing?” Iowen asked him, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” the archbishop confirmed, “he is in charge of general planning and coordination of all the participants from our side and of direct execution of whatever is necessary,” he explained.
Fuck me senseless.
“Are you telling me that you will be taking orders from Lucas?” Iowen didn’t believe him for a second.
“That is how we operate,” he smiled, “we set operation leadership by necessary skills rather than official rank. You can trust me on this one; he is more than capable to see this operation to its successful end. Now, feel free to empty the barrel. I shall go get ready for the reception of marquis Gorash,” the archbishop concluded, refilling his cup.
“Is there anything we need to do at the reception?” Iowen probed before the archbishop managed to leave, feeling that the earth under her feet is suddenly a lot less stable.
“Usual party plan. Get drunk, have fun and get laid, in whatever order you prefer,” answered, Merewen.
“So we are actually going there to party? Just party? Now, two months before the whole thing starts?” Iowen didn’t really believe her.
“Yea. We got jackshit to do anyway. Lucas hasn’t given us any orders and we were are all withdrawn from whatever we were working on before,” Miranda confirmed.
“Indeed,” Lucas agreed. As the archbishop was passing through the door leaving the room, he suddenly stopped and turned around and looked at Iowen.
“Since you are new to this, please allow me to affirm something. I am sure you have heard from Lucas about the belief of freedom and that it is the right of every being under heavens to have it,” he started softly. Iowen nodded.
“Let me make one thing clear,” Nashimaeal continued, “this is not just a belief of Lucas as one man, but rather the belief of the entire Holy Order of Palai. Freedom has a price and we are all ready to do whatever is necessary to pay it both for ourselves and for anyone else we can. This operation is, so to say, our Order putting the blade behind its words. We are the tip of that blade. Stay vigilant, my friends, for we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world.”
9
Iowen
The reception of marquis Gorash was as opulent as one would expect. The main hall was filled with food and drinks of all sorts and origins. The hall was gloriously decorated in black and red, colors of Mar Gorash. Team Palai, as Iowen started to call it for simplicity, went there separated to not be too obvious.
Goals for the evening. One, find out who the hell are these people. Two, have fun with Lucas.
The archbishop stayed close to the marquis. His natural authority radiated from him even stronger than before, as if all the candles and flames, which were keeping the place illuminated, were adding to his aura.
Miranda was dressed up as a noblewoman and moved around the hall with other noblewomen. She actually felt a flash of pity when she saw Merewen. She wore a long gown that was trying to hide it, but a matter of fact was that she was the tallest person in the hall and by far the most dangerous looking one. Iowen thought it was the armor, but no, it wasn’t. She was reasonably slender, but the map of muscles carve
d into her arms and back made her feel dangerous. No matter how Iowen tried to see her as a pretty tall girl in a cute dress, Merewen looked downright scary.
Still, she doesn’t look dangerous. She feels dangerous. Why? Why, when I look at her, I don’t think about the fact that those are some cool boobies, but rather if she could crush a skull between her thighs?
Well, I wouldn’t bet against that.
“Mind if I steal you for a bit?” asked Elias as he bumped into them, positioning himself between her and Lucas. He was already taking her away before she could answer. If Lucas had something to say about it, he was ignored. Elias used his magic to make his hands cold, which made his touch very pleasing for Iowen.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked him softly.
“There is a betting competition; wager is five gold coins per person and participation is mandatory.”
“What are we betting on?”
“Who Merewen ends up getting laid with. Five coins a person you add to options, limit ten people per participant, all bets go to me. Winner takes eternal glory of getting it right or well until the next official event. In case it is nobody, we all lose and money goes to church coffers,” Elias explained.
“Sounds entertaining; I might need to inquire about some information since I don’t know her nearly as well as you do.”
“If there is any help I can provide, I am here,” Elias replied charmingly.
“I just need to handle something first, I will be right back,” Iowen smiled back. She went to find two of the most attractive and obvious harlots she could find.
“Hey there girls, looking to earn some coin?” she inquired. They confirmed.
“Excellent. See the man in the golden suit standing over there? I want you to be his company for tonight and prepare him for me for later. Kissing, touching and hugging are encouraged, nothing more. I want him well prepared by the time the party ends.”
“Unusual request, those aren’t cheap,” one of them replied.
Iowen smiled and took out two prepared pouches.
“Twenty-five gold for each of you. You will not back off or let him leave the hall, aside from toilets. No matter what he says, does or offers you. If I catch you slacking or bedding him, I will recollect the gold back. If I am happy with what I see, you will get twenty-five extra by the end of the night. Understood?” Iowen added in a merciless tone.
“I feel sorry for him already,” one of them smiled and grabbed her pouch. The second one asked
“Will you throw in ten extra if we keep him company to the toilets as well?”
Iowen nodded and handed over the extra gold, pleased. She watched how they slid through the room and flanked Lucas, grabbing him tight between themselves, one going straight for a kiss while the second one for his neck. Iowen knew that she is grossly overpaying them, but that was the plan because motivated women do a way better job than just fairly paid ones.
Good. Here you have your whores, Lucas. Enjoy!
Pleased with herself, Iowen returned to Elias.
“You are one vicious woman,” he greeted her back.
“What company would I be if I let Lucas alone? I could never do something like that to him, could I?” she smiled back sweetly.
“I almost feel bad for the man,” Elias stated in an amused voice.
“No, you don’t, none of you do,” Iowen noted.
“You are right, he is one hell of an evil bastard who deserves just about anything and everything you do to him. Then again, he is also our greatest operation commander, so it evens out,” Elias confirmed.
“I realized. You guys seem to have an absurdly high trust in him. Do you know him that long?” Iowen inquired, interested if she can pick up anything more about him.
“We go way back and have been through hell together, multiple times.”
“Got some cool story to share?”
“Plenty. One of the top ones was the siege of Slupsey. The city was being overrun by mutated rat-demon-somethings. Things looked bad, really bad, no food and a city full of civilians. Lucas found out that if you cut out a specific part of the rat monsters, it tastes like a normal rat and is actually edible. We spent two months holding out while literally eating the corpses of our enemies to survive.”
“I think I have a very different definition of the word cool,” said Iowen as her face went pale. “How do you know what rat tastes like?” she couldn’t resist asking.
“Everyone in the army knows. Sooner or later, you get stuck defending a city. Rats are the first animals to hunt down and eat.”
“Different topic please, so what’s the deal with the betting on Merewen?” Iowen pivoted.
Note to self: never get stuck in a city under siege. Especially not when you are on the religious-fanatics team who clearly doesn’t know when to quit.
“Oh, that is a jolly tradition. You see, Merewen has had it tough with finding partners. She travels a lot, spends months away on campaigns and is too professional to do something with other soldiers.”
“She is also scary as hell,” Iowen added.
“Exactly, it’s not just you; it's everyone. Merewen is an extremely veteran soldier and looks every bit to what her reputation says about her. Now add to that a popular story of how she crushed a horse skull between her thighs and there suddenly might not be that much fish in the sea,” Elias smiled.
“She did what?”
“Got drunk once, made a bet that she can crush a skull between her thighs. The others thought they were smart and gave a head of a dead horse. She won.”
“Ouch!” Iowen was startled, “why doesn’t she go for some Uroshnii or something else large enough?”
“Uroshnii hate her, they call her Bloody Merewen from the times when she led campaigns in their lands. Story has it that she literally killed thousands of them herself. Plus she hates how they smell, likely from being on the second side of the same story. Also, it’s not really about the size, she isn’t that huge after all and her proportions are actually quite attractive. It’s the killer instinct. See how she measures everyone who comes around her? She grew up with the army, for her the most normal thing to do when meeting a person is checking it for hidden weapons and taking a preventive defensive stance… which doesn’t exactly give a positive signal for conversation,” Elias explained.
“Does she ever get anyone?” Iowen inquired.
“Yes, though most of the time she would get nothing.”
“Would get nothing?” Iowen probed.
“Yes. The way to win the bet is to match someone with her. Which is the point, it’s just that the bet sounds better than charity,” Elias breathed.
“That’s… actually kind of nice,” Iowen replied.
“It’s the least I can do for her.”
“That sounded guilty.”
“Well, I may have been the one who made a bet with her and then brought the horse head instead of the human one,” Elias explained.
“Well, damn. Anyway, so this is what Merewen will be doing. Archbishop and Miranda seem to be busy working, Lucas is taken care off. So, what do we do?” Iowen probed.
“Is there anything you desire to do, dear?” Elias smiled.
Get drunk. Definitely get drunk.
“Enjoy the company. What is it like to serve in the Order for so long?” Iowen inquired.
“Lots of bloody fun. I won’t try to paint you a pretty picture to fool you; the Order is mostly hunting and killing demons and anything they touch. The higher you get in the Order, the more fighting you do,” Elias revealed.
“How come?”
“Because you can’t live without it anymore. I don’t know what it is, maybe the bloodlust from the monsters you keep killing seeps into you, but after a certain amount of time, nobody can even imagine doing anything else.”
“That’s actually pretty sad,” Iowen breathed.
“It’s not a bad life. You keep fighting until you get so old; you just train recruits or die in the process.”
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“Is there no end to it? I always thought you religious fanatics fight for something like a better world, but this doesn’t sound like you have any goal at all.”
“Well, the official goal is to end the whole demon thing that’s been plaguing the world for over the past century. That’s a long shot at best, legend has it there are eight demonic princes. We have yet to kill one. But yes, I hope the children of children of my children will know demons only from history books,” Elias smiled sadly.
“You have children?” Iowen asked, surprised.
“About five or six,” Elias nodded.
What?
“You don’t even know how many do you have?”
“No. I know how many I have made, but haven’t exactly been around to see if they are still alive or not,” Elias smirked.
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s one of the ways we deal with this way of life. Most get something going with another soldier, but once you get too much into it you either end up like Nash and Merewen and have no kids or like Lucas and me when you don’t even know how many you have.”
“Lucas does this too?”
“Yea, we have been trying to find out how many offsprings he has spawned but it feels like he doesn’t know himself.”
To summarize… I am in a team with a bunch of religiously fanatical psychopaths who literally cannot live without killing things. After I’m done with this operation, I am never getting anywhere close to the Palai Order! There is no way I am falling into this!
“I need a drink,” Iowen concluded.
Strong drink, very strong.
“Hey, gonna come for the midnight drink?” Miranda bumped into her, now dressed in commoner’s clothes.
“Err…ehmm.. yea… suuure,” Iowen tried to reply.
She tried to follow Miranda, but could barely focus her eyes on her.
Staahhp moving so ffaaast.
Miranda grabbed her by the elbow and went on to almost drag her upstairs. “Not a heavy drinker, are you?”
Legacy of Dreams: Freedom Page 7