The Sword to Unite

by Peter J. Hopkins

  Their lords came from the house Moricar, natives to these wetlands, whose sigil is a boar upon green field stuck with a spear in its belly. Moricar’s namesake and authority stems from their oldest household tale. King Roi, the founder of the house and once one of the Ten Kings, came to hunt in these tall grass fields. A wild boar, large as a bear, struck out at him from the brush, its tusks ready to gore the man. Upon his name and ancestors, Roi claimed until his dying breath, that Godric, Lord of the huntsmen, had descended upon a golden chariot, and pierced the boar in its paunch. Upon that spot, Roi constructed the castle of Luxen and made a shrine to Godric in his gardens.

  From across a distant hill, Cedric could now see Luxen, composed of wooden and stone buildings, with a stone castle at the top of the hill. It was a moderately sized fortress, with wooden roofing and railing along its walls, which connected to a large hall towards the back of the hill. The banners of House Moricar, the Wild Boar, proudly waved on the castle and throughout the town below.

  The party rode into town, witnessing the celebration of a great festival. Everywhere they looked men and women were drinking, singing and dancing. Each of the commoners’ faces had been painted with strange clay, of blue and white. It was the tradition of a wedding in these lands, the wedding of their lord, Roderic, to his betrothed Gwyneth. The folk they saw were much in looks to the Lorinians to the south, though the men wore their beards longer and with knotted patterns.

  By tradition, the king had brought out great stores of food and drink, presenting them to his people for a day of merriment. Musicians played through the town, bringing their pleasant melodies into every passerby’s ear. Performers and acrobats amazed audiences throughout Luxen, spitting fire and spinning through the air. Tents and tables were set up on each street, providing a bounty of rich and sweet foods for all to enjoy.

  The guards kept steady their blades, for the lords in service to Roderic were feasting in the hall, and the entire hierarchy of their land rested on their watchful protection. They wore heavy chainmail with lightly colored green tunics, embroidered with golden squares upon the shoulders. They also held round shields, which had elaborate designs of spiraling dragons, dancing fish, and jumping boars. Upon their aketons which overlapped the chain, they had badges of brown boars, trimmed with yellow cloth. Unlike that of the Rivermen, these were professional soldiers, dedicated to the service of their lord. Another rarity in their arsenal, their long swords, as most drafted soldiers in these lands fought with pitchforks or sharpened spears. Refined iron was not a cheap or plentiful commodity in Luxen.

  Cedric and his party removed their weapons at the gate of the castle, as was custom for any meeting between lords, particularly in a wedding, and entered the feasting hall. It was a tall structure on the inside, with large vaulted columns on either side of the hall. The hall was of even stone, save the back towards the lord’s table, which was raised so that all in his court might see and hear him.

  Tables were filled with food and feasting lords on either side of the keep, many of whom had become drunk and disorderly. Pork and fruit were flung table to table in a tipsy row. This was the case in all the feasting hall save for Roderic’s table, which consisted of himself, his wife, and his closest friends and advisors, all of whom had remained respectful in the presence of their lord. Roderic had a look of disdain on his face, not for his nobles in specific, but for their ideals. They were pleased with their lot in life, content to eat their fine foods and wines, never thinking of greater ambition.

  He was a young man, practically still a child, his face was smooth and his hair light and wispy, but his eyes were that of a powerful leader, burning bright with ambition and cunning. He came off as arrogant and naïve to many of his vassals, believing him to be a boy in a man’s world. He disagreed, for he was a man with the patience and ear for the people and ideas that deserved them. To Roderic, everything else was secondary.

  On his and his wife’s heads, garlands of flowers were placed as a sign of new life within them. He was draped in a majestic tunic, with purple trimming and an orange flower pattern in the center, at his golden belt buckle, the figure of Loden’s face. His wife was beautiful, and advanced in age compared to Roderic by around six years, for she appeared as a fully-grown woman. She was a quiet thing, though her advice was listened to and desired by all in the land. From time to time, as Cedric and his group ate with the vassal lords, he would see this newly betrothed wife whisper to her husband, who silently nodded in agreement to her hushed council.

  This day marked another important aspect of Roderic’s rule, his official recognition as lord of Luxen. Roderic had only recently taken his seat of power in the land, after his father fell ill with Shiverbone, and died. This was the first time in his rule that all those thanes in service to him were under the same roof, and before Cedric arrived, each swore an oath of loyalty to their young lord with the wearing of a golden bracelet, given to each personally by Roderic.

  To Roderic’s left, his most trusted advisor, a druid cloaked in his traditional clothing and beard. He was an ancient creature, his skin wrinkled and worn like old leather, and drooped to the point that it nearly masked his eyes from view. To their backs, stood the largest man any in Cedric’s party had seen. If he was not in the hall of Moricar, some might mistake him for a giant. His face was mostly covered by a patch of chainmail attached to his helm, though his eyes and the flesh around them were exposed. The eyes were piercing, and from what little flesh Cedric saw, he knew the man was scarred underneath his armor. A burgundy tunic with golden trimming draped over the man as well, hiding his robust frame from view. He was wearing heavy mail, large enough to protect two men. He stood with his arms crossed, taking survey over the whole of the hall, carefully watching every guest. Cedric was quick to turn back around when this behemoth took sight of him, for fear that his stare held the strength of a sword swing. His name was Dag, the bodyguard to house Moricar for many years. He had served under Roderic’s father, and like his land was passed from father to son.

  Roderic stood and raised his arm, and began a speech he prepared for the day. “Lords and ladies, I thank you all for your presence here today. Today is not only my vowing to my wife, but it is a vow to you, to Luxen. For far too long our house has sat at the end of the table of Midland. For far too long we have been left in the shadow of houses who believe themselves better than us. My lords, I vow to you that I shall raise up our house as your king. Together we shall build a stronger Moricar. The road ahead will be long and tiring, as the return of Azrael shall test each man, woman, and child in this realm. But, if we stand together, we shall arise stronger than before, with the name Moricar, raised to new heights.” There was a great cheer for their king, some cheered for genuine respect, others cheered out of duty, but there was no difference in their voice.

  Again Roderic’s hand was raised for silence, and the hall grew quiet in anticipation, save the sound of sipping cups and the devouring of food. “I would like to personally call forth some from your ranks so that they might be recognized for their deeds, would Joto, Dandel, and Chason please stand and come forth.” Three old lords rose from their seats, giving nervous looks to one another as they approached their boy king. They bowed and kissed the ring of Moricar, drowning in anticipation of Roderic’s words. “You each have served my father well, and for that I thank you.” Each man relaxed, and their breathing calmed. “For this, you should be given the gifts of my house.”

  Roderic’s tone changed. “But for some deeds, you should be punished.” The three’s faces grew pale and in suspense as their lord spoke. “Some among you cannot stand my rule, proclaiming me to be inexperienced and without the will to execute commands. I have offered all of you a place in my house, with good food and wine, and yet there is no thanks for these gifts.” Roderic snapped his fingers, and a scribe brought out a great book of record. “My father was a weak man, none here shall deny that, though they may not have the courage to speak it. In fact, he was so weak, tha
t you, his bound lords took advantage of him.” There came another snap, and the book was opened, revealing detailed records of the estate of Moricar. “These three, any many more of you still feasting at my tables have stolen what is rightfully mine. You have hoarded grain and other goods owed to my father and myself, all of which is mine by right as Lord Moricar.” Again, Roderic snapped his fingers, four guards, including the half-giant appeared and made the lords kneel. “And so, you have made yourselves no more honorable than a common thief in the night, and must be punished accordingly.” Three of the guards drew their daggers and rested the sharp steel on the lords’ necks.

  But again, there came another snap of the finger, and the guards sheathed their blades and put heavy chains on the disgraced lords. “However, since no blood shall be spilled on a day marked by joy,” he said as he smiled towards his wife, who smiled back, “I will have you executed tomorrow.” The three lords’ faces turned the pale white like that of ghosts as they were dragged away screaming. “There shall be no more stealing from my rightful bounty by any of you. These books of records will forever act as law, neglect it, and suffer the consequences. Now then, a gift to each of you, for your ensured loyalty. Those threes’ land and property shall be equally divided amongst yourselves, their cattle, coin, and grain shall be given as my dowry to you, as your new lord.

  Roderic sipped from his cup as he watched his former lords being dragged away to the dungeon, this time he snapped his fingers for more wine as he descended from his table to walk amongst the rest of his nobles.

  Cedric and his group drank carefully from that point on. They sampled the harvest of Moricar’s lands, strong ales and sweet wines were given freely at every table. All the while, their eyes glanced around, seeing if Roderic would imprison anyone else.

  Alfnod focused the group’s attention and began speaking. “I see no potential for a full army in these men, true they have some soldiers, and even what appears to be a giant standing in the back, but a few men do not make an army. That being said, to have the support of a lord, any lord, would be a step in the right direction for our cause. We must be careful in our negotiations.”

  “I agree,” said Cedric. “We cannot come to be picky when we stand on the brink of destruction; we take what we must. I shall go to stand before Roderic, wish me luck.”

  Cedric got up and began marching towards Roderic’s table; he was twiddling his dinner knife against his cloth covered table. Cedric felt all drunken eyes on him as he walked; apparently news of Wulfstan had spread fast to the north. Some lords appeared afraid, as if this party and their quiet lives were about to be disrupted. Others bore faces filled with anger, as though Cedric had come like an avid tax collector to take what was rightfully theirs. The only one who greeted Cedric with a face of kindness was Roderic, who smiled as he noticed Cedric approaching.

  Cedric bowed as the whole of the hall went quiet, eager to hear him speak. “Lord Roderic.” He began. “I must talk to you about Azrael’s return; it is my duty to raise an army to oppose his evil forces, and to name myself as the heir to Adalgott. I am blunt with you as there is no time for fancy words, we must either act now together or perish alone when he returns.”

  Roderic did not speak; he was thinking intently on Cedric’s words, stilling playing with his dinner knife. Suddenly there was an outburst from the feasting tables. “He plans to take our lands!” Another raised his voice. “He’s not my lord, the foreign bastard!” He then shot an awkward smile to Roderic, to prove his loyalty. There was an angry stirring in the hall as all the lords stood shouting, and began throwing food at Cedric.

  Roderic raised his hand, his face too was embroiled in anger. He strode down to where Cedric was stand and spoke to his nobles. “It is not your place to decide these matters! By our traditions, we give each guest here the respect and welfare they deserve. You do nothing but make a mockery of yourselves. There shall be no more talk of this matter in public, until your lord has decided the best course of action. Back to your tables lords, back to the meal I have given on this happy day, the one you have so unceremoniously interrupted, perhaps you forget where three of your kind are currently rotting.” He turned and began walking towards a back door. He did not look at Cedric; rather he signaled with his hand as he strode across his hall. “Lord Cedric, with me.” Before they exited, Roderic whispered to his wife who smiled and nodded her head lightly.

  Cedric and Roderic walked outside along the turning stone wall, surveying all the lands of House Moricar. Roderic held two cups of wine in his hands as he walked, drinking from one of them. At the door to the hall, the half-giant paced back and forth, keeping close watch on his lord. In the gardens of the castle below them, there was a shrine to Godric, as well as a stone statue of a boar.

  “It’s a strange thing…” Roderic began as he peered over the River Relif to the south. “These nobles,” He scoffed. “They are so preoccupied with keeping their petty statuses and land that brings them perhaps half a step above a shit covered peasant. We are left with two options Cedric, hold on to what little we have, only to have it taken away, or dive into the unknown. I choose the second; I choose to put my faith you.”

  Cedric was shocked by Roderic’s willingness. “Really? Just like that, you’ll support me. Why?”

  “I’ve already said. If I don’t, I will rule these lands for a few more months until Azrael comes along, then I’ll no doubt end up dead in a ditch, my skin flayed off. If I join and we fail, I will share that same fate. But if we succeed, there will certainly be a power gap for the new King Cedric, a burden I would be glad to share in. For you see, in my current standing, I can afford to throw a feast like this only a few times a year, if the harvest has been truly blessed. I want to be able to have one every single day. Now, when I say that, I mean I do not intend to have a feast every day, but that I want the power to be able to. These noble lords are content to live their little lives from the cradle to the grave, never thinking of the riches of the world just waiting for the taking.” Roderic smiled and reached out to give Cedric the second cup of wine. “Ambitious men carve the future, Cedric, shall we face this unholy enemy as allies, and shall we be able to feast every day, if it so pleases us?”

  Cedric took the cup and drank from it much to the delight of Roderic. Immediately, the ruler of Luxen threw his cup to the ground and hurried to the door, calling to his bodyguard. “Dag, summon the census takers and the tax collectors! Moricar is called to the service of the true king!” In a whirlwind, the castle ceased its feasting, and the tables of food were cleared, making way for census tomes and other books of records. Each lord was abruptly lined up, many still drunk, and each was made to give full disclosure on their estates. Roderic was sitting on his throne, taking the hand of his lady, both quite pleased with their worked. Lists and numbers of men, crops, cattle, weapons and iron were struck down into the books on the tables, the food of the feast still fresh and warm upon the floor.

  “My lord, how can we put faith in a foreigner such as this man, even if he is of Adalgott’s bloodline?” One of the nobles protested as he gave the number of the men able to fight in his lands. Around him, the other nobles began to grumble as their wine and food lost its effect.

  Arim, the druid, and advisor to Roderic, stood to and raised his hands to the bickering nobles, calling for silence. Roderic too rose and addressed his council. “This foreign lord you speak of is the heir to Adalgott. My friend, do you wish to imply that you lack faith in the gods? Perhaps your local priests shall not take too kindly to that, even going as far as to spread the word of your doubt to your commoners.” The old druid smiled through his great beard; he enjoyed his role in Roderic’s land. The noble’s face turned a bright red as he apologized and bowed to the druid, and he quickly sat down in the hopes that no more attention would be brought to him.

  With the census complete, the whole of Roderic’s land was accounted for. Some lords whispered about how strange it was that their lord was so ready to call for an
account of their estates at his own wedding.

  Cedric and his party were given fresh supplies for their journey, as their work was finished in Luxen, in record time, now it was time to go further into Midland. Roderic saw them off with a full battalion of Rivermen, along with his personal bodyguard Dag and two of his knights, clad in steel and chainmail. The two newly allied lords spoke at the gate of the castle. “I send you with my best men Cedric; they will guide you to the edge of my lands, then onto other houses to spread the word of our alliance.” Roderic laughed nervously. “You know this may fail before we even begin. If Malcom decides against our plan, I suppose we’ll all hang, no doubt he will conjure up some tale about our lot trying to lead a rebellion.” Roderic steadied himself and gave his honest advice to Cedric. “Play into his hand, Malcom, he enjoys thinking himself to be a mighty king.”

  Cedric saddled his horse and prepared to leave. “Thank you, Roderic, when next we meet we shall lead the greatest army this age has seen.”

  “And Cedric.” Roderic stopped the Seer before he could mount his horse. “Mind the roads, the tales of the masked bandit are becoming more likened to reality with each passing day. But never fear, I send you with my best man, Dag, the bastard northerner, he could tear through whole ranks of men if I let him.”

  Cedric was quick to switch the subject back to the masked man. “Does anyone know who he is? Or if he exists, for I have heard only rumors during my time in Orford.”