The Bloodied Shield

by Michael McKenzie

  Zansui's eyes narrowed, "They would not dare murder a Noble of Westwatch, not even the Thieves Guild would do that."

  Jeria's expression remained stern and cold.

  She had her answer with the silence that lingered.

  They would.

  "What can you tell me of these bastards?" Jeria regarded Charles.

  "They operate near the Docks, with spies scattered around, sometimes on rooftops. When my Guards close on them or entrap them, they fight like a ravenous dog, but there have been no fatalities as of yet in during these skirmishes. Their mostly brawls, but when steel is drawn, the scum scatter like rats from a fire."

  "But there has been deaths?"

  Charles nodded slightly. "Slit throats and back stabbings mostly. Sometimes it is a random citizen who may have stood up to these thugs, other times it is a Guard."

  "Do they wear anything to identify themselves? Like the Thieves' Guild Dagger Insignia?"

  "And odd mark on a green sash."

  Jeria nodded once. "I see.”

  Then, without turning, Jeria barked a name. “Yunzo!"

  Yunzo, a short haired Kallaxian with a thin beard, was pushing fifty years old. They were not only the oldest of the Raiders, but their Father, a former Samurai, had actually trained Yunzo in the methods and practices of a once proud Empire. They had served in the City Watch of Reikard’s Shield, and Volunteered for the Raiders when they were formed.

  Yunzo had impressed the Raiders, who impressed Dratin, who picked Yunzo out as her second in command. Jeria liked the man because they were quiet and reserved, and though acted like a proper Samurai, they did not bark needlessly at the men.

  (Here!) Yunzo stepped forward smartly, clasping a hand over their breastplate and bowing their head forward.

  (Take the Raiders into town) Jeria instructed the man in Kallaxian. (You are looking for peasants with a green sash around their waist with an unspecified mark. They are bandits who plague on the innocent and are cowards who shy from honorable battle.)

  (I want a Sash for inspection.)

  After Jeria was finished, he waited for Yunzo to called in the rest of the Raiders with a shout. When the fur laced armored men, and the few orcs, came closer, Jeria spoke again.

  "Yunzo?"

  The man turned once more to regard the Worg Rider.

  "Do not be gentle."

  The man bowed yet again, then ordered the Raiders to gather off to the side.

  "What did you do?" Zansui demanded.

  "Declared War," Jeria responded, making a sweeping gesture towards the shanty town. "This is unacceptable."

  "From a man who murdered many in their sleep," Zansui observed pointedly.

  "There is a line even I will not cross!" Jeria shot back, snapping so fast on Zansui that the Half-Elf realized she had somehow found a chink that unemotional armor he wore.

  Zansui insulted Jeria and gotten an actual reaction, with actual rage.

  "I am sorry Father."

  Jeria scowled on for a moment more, then grimaced, quickly turning away from Zansui and covering his face.

  "We must move on," Jeria instructed, nodding to his Jakuul Nephew. "Pass the word to your Guards to give my Raiders a wide berth and prepare for combat."

  "Jeria they scatter and disappear before we can even start a proper fight. We do not know where they scurry off too when they do.”

  "Lord Charles." Jeria frowned, gesturing towards the City. "Is it not customary for Property belonging to the Nobility to be served a Writ of Inspection by another?"

  "Yes, why?"

  Jeria huffed, now turning his attention to Zansui again. "Out of the five remaining Minor Noblemen you had in your Employ before Charles reclaimed these lands, which one has personal storage houses near the Docks?"

  Zansui regarded her Father before her jaw slackened.

  Krylis Restorm, former Lord Protector of Reikard's Shield, had tortured and butchered innocent people had relied on that very custom to keep the local City Watch from inspecting the Manor Grounds thoroughly.

  They would have needed a Writ of Inspection, which they could not secure at the time. They were unknowingly under siege.

  A siege Jeria had lifted by disregarding the custom altogether.

  "They would not dare." Zansui fumed suddenly. "Not because I cut the Taxes, not for something so petty."

  "Rilstarin Nobles tend to be rash when angry." Charles unknowingly quoted Rebekka Jakuul.

  Jeria, without saying anything further, turned Grok away, heading straight for the Stone Samurai.

  <><><><><><><>

  "How DARE they!”

  Alari Kufang thundered at his subordinate, who bowed stiffly to their Bosu in submission.

  "This is OUR territory now, and they will respect it."

  "Wot be the fuss?"

  Alari turned to his guest and bowed himself.

  "Excuse me, it is a private matter. It seems we have a brazen group of adventurers who need to be taught a lesson."

  The Guest, a graying Dwarf, nodded once. "If it be the group me be thinkin' bout, me can give ya a hand in that, but let's settle business aye?"

  "Of course, Lord Kral." Alari bowed, and then took a seat.

  The Dwarf leaned uncomfortably at a table that had no chairs, just pillows. It sat very low to the floor, a Kallaxian design, and they were surrounded by men in strange garb with green sashes. The room in which they occupied was choked full of smoke from tobacco pipes, that listed and hung lazily from the lack of air flow.

  It was stuffy, hidden away and secret, not even the occupants were exactly sure where they were beneath the streets of the Docks.

  "Me not some Lord here, be it Bosu?" the Dwarf, Kral, asked more on the pronunciation, gesturing towards them with a pipe.

  "You have said it correctly."

  "Good, me not the Lord here, me be a guest in yer humble house and ya not have disappointed me nor me boys."

  "Me employer, Lord Gorgreen, be impressed with how fast ye have taken over from the Thieves Guild. More so since the Dock District been a mithril ingot refusin' bendin'. And as me had been sayin' afore yer man rudely interrupted us." Kral pointedly stared up at the man in Samurai armor, who hid their face in shame.

  "He be offerin' ye men access to Din Weapons for ten coin a weapon, ten coin for fifteh shot apiece."

  "But we have already secured swords-" Alari began to dismiss the offer.

  "-These ain't be crossbows and blades lad." Kral politely interrupted the man. "And ye be gettin'em cheaper, save the munitions. Just think bout it. Yer blades there ain't much for armor. We both know this, we be smart lads aye?"

  “But the Din Spike Swords?" Kral raised his bushy brows, then gestured for someone to pass him the aforementioned weapon.

  A Din Supspike. It was a longsword that had a hollow hilt, that allowed the wielder to affix a spike at the butt.

  When one pulled on a piece on the hilt, two opposing runes would collide and propel the spike outward like a crossbow quarrel. It did not have the same range as a Crossbow, but the spikes themselves could easily penetrate some of the toughest armor in Rals, and it could be re-armed far faster than a crossbow.

  The Din never sold them to anyone, and no one knew how to replicate the functions of the sword's runes.

  "Lookit here even wrapped the hilts in yer house colors me did. Personal touch'n'all." the Dwarf placed the sword down on the table, then slid it towards Alari. "Ye send abouts twenty men to ya problem with bout ten spikes each, and if they be trained and well in range?"

  Kral chuckled. "Wouldn’t matter if it be a Dragoon, Ironguard or even a fellin' Dragon, me boy. No one would live through it."

  "Matters even better? Who be suspectin' Kallaxian's to be weildin' Din Weapons, 'specially since ye been doin' a good job in kickin'em in da sacks."

  "Speakin' of, ye get the payment for that?” Kral asked, and Alari nodded greedily, inspecting the Din Supspike.

  "Good, good, makin' sure everythin' square and
even." Kral nodded happily. "Guarantee if ye stick to me friend Gorgreen's affairs, payments will keep comin'."

  The Dwarf popped the pipe back in their mouth to puff a few arid clouds into the already smoke polluted air.

  "Guarantee it, or me name ain't Kral Mastershield."

  <><><><><><><>

  After business had been concluded with Kallaxian Crime Lord, Kral waddled into the street in time to see a small parade of Guards marching away, heading for the actual Docks.

  As the old dwarf watched, puffing on his pipe, other dwarves in dark leathers started to surround him.

  "Ye find'em?"

  "Aye, in a hidin' hole in the south with their kin."

  Kral turned to the dwarf who reported.

  "Kill'em?"

  "And his kin."

  Kral stroked his beard. "Good lad. Root out the old, start fresh when we can. Be past me life time'a'fore we gets a proper Guild running'ere again."

  "Put'em where me told ya to put'em?" Kral half turned to speak more directly towards the dwarves.

  "Aye, those thing's left a right mess they did."

  "Ignorin'em, ain't for us long as they be kept on a leash aye?"

  "What about the Lorekeeper?"

  "Ye mean the filthy horn'fuckin' bastard child of me loins?" Kral snarled, whirling on the dwarf who spoke. "Me take care of'em personally, little message yeah left will get'em were he's gotta go."

  "He wouldn't have if he knew what we be plannin'."

  "Me ain't talkin' wit the boy." Kral spat turning again to the next dwarf, who squared their shoulders. "He should'a died with his whore in a right honorable fight. Should'a known he be a coward."

  "Ain't right watcha doin' with Triden, Kral. If he'd known we let the Guild fall-"

  Kral punched the dwarf who had squared their shoulders and continued to argue.

  "Ain't right?! He married that filthy bitch against me wishes, against the CLAN wishes. Mastershield's been slayin' demonkin for nearly a thousand years and he offs and bones one with the first firm buttocks." Kral thundered in the street, drawing the attention of pedestrians.

  "Sod off be dwarven business ye cads!" Kral raged at them, and it sent them scattering away.

  Kral paced amongst the dwarves.

  "Even if me told Triden what the Clan intended, think he'd been so eager to head to Keystone with the Book'o'Shadows?" Kral turned on the dwarf they punched.

  "He'd known we'd take the book, which ye should'a did in the first place."

  "So me had the ship shot down, so what?" Triden spat, squaring their own shoulders. "Calamity Jack be who's ship?"

  "The Thane King's."

  "And do we bend knee to the Coward King?"

  The Dwarves amongst them glanced nervously around a moment to see if anyone else heard.

  "No, we don't."

  Kral nodded once firmly, "Good. Now let's be off to the Stone Samurai. We got kin to see."

  Chapter 10

  The Children swarmed over Zansui just as much as the Birds did.

  As soon as the Half Elven Ranger had stepped foot within the compound behind the Stone Samurai, every tree seemed to spring to life with ear-splitting songs from more Birds than Jeria could count.

  Even before Jeria could slip off Grok, the Worg had pawed at the ground eagerly. As soon as Jeria's weight had been off him, the War Horse sized Wolf joined in the hugging and noise making by barking and nuzzling at his missed playmates.

  The Samurai folded his arms over his chest, watching as Zansui was engulfed by screaming children, singing birds and a baying Worg. It was a chaotic swarm of happiness and joy as 'Mommy!' mingled with the chorus of an avian song from little creatures that treated Zansui just as fondly.

  A smile tugged on Jeria's lips. For a full moment, the man was content. To see Zansui so loved and adored even by the animals around her, matched only by the love of her children.

  He would do anything to keep this moment.

  Jeria's eyes, however, strayed towards the trees and woodland that inhabited the palisade. Forgotten once more, Jeria slipped away between the trees, heading for someone else who had crossed his mind.

  Coming to the back door, Jeria's gaze shifted to a marble statue of a woman on her back, sleeping away the passing decades on a bed of roses.

  Elandra.

  Jeria removed the sword from his hip, laid it before him, before falling onto his knees to pay homage to the one spark of love he had ever dared kept.

  Whose soul had been trapped in the milky film of glass.

  Growling, and knowing Elandra was not at peace, Jeria stood and headed back to where the Family had gathered.

  Jeria and Ellen both hugged at the elder Jeria's legs and started to fill their Grandfather in on their little adventures. The Samurai had settled down and listened to each, smiling warmly at them both as Jeria and Ellen chattered.

  It seemed it was their favorite thing to do with their Grandfather, telling them of their adventures into the basement of the Inn, or how the archives of the Castle smelled of really old people.

  The Half-Elf could not help but notice on how her Father dutifully turned to each of them, wholly interested in what they had to say. Or how Ozork or Lacen sat equally in his arms and tugged on the bandana on his head or the hair in which the piece of cloth kept at bay.

  Not a single complaint. Not a single look of annoyance, nor one raised voice.

  It almost broke Zansui's heart that she had to end it.

  Zansui relayed the news that she would be heading away for a few more days, promising sweets to her children.

  They, of course, took it with a mixture of sobbing and pouting, though Jeria's namesake, age nine, accepted it as their Mother's duty. Ellen, age eight, looked to be on the verge of tears, and the twins, Ozork and Lacen, both four, wept wanting to more time with their 'Mommy.'

  Then they demanded to know where their Father was, and they did not react well that Grigs would not be here for a few more days either. Both Ozork and Lacen were carried off by attendants and guards, balling that they wanted their mommy and daddy.

  That had struck a cord with Jeria, and there was a tightening of his chest.

  Guilt. It cracked the ice of indifference and hatred. How long did Zansui pine for her Jeria?

  How long did she grieve for Elandra?

  Jeria turned from the wailing and proceeded to remove Grok's armor.

  Jeria patted the big creature on the side once he had finished unstrapping the last bit of metal across their broad shoulders.

  "Protect the cubs, Grok."

  Sensing that Jeria was heading somewhere they could not follow, the Worg went about taking the mind of children off their brief reunion with their Mother, to one of playful romping through the trees.

  Jeria watched the large Worg run, before seeking out his Daughter.

  Once the Children had been taken away, Zansui had turned to the birds who still danced and shifted about above her.

  Zansui appeared to be having a candid conversation with two hawks however. One had been a brown a red feathered creature, large with sharp talons tearing into the wood of the branch they balanced themselves on.

  The other had been smaller, brown of varying shades and a bright orange beak. It kept darting around her to land on the branch, before repeating the motion again and again.

  Finally, Zansui thrust out her false arm, and the small brown predator landed, balanced itself, and snapped its beak in impatience.

  Sighing, Zansui made a dismissive gesture with the other hand to the brown and red Hawk, before regarding the other on her arm.

  "Children," Zansui muttered, turning to Jeria as he approached. "You haven't met Arrow and Rainbow have you?"

  "Rainbow?"

  "Grigs named her." Zansui rolled her eyes and scratched at the brow feather's chest. "Rainbow here is demanding to come along. They did not like how I disappeared and are fearful of a repeat. So she is going to keep an eye on me."

  "Rainbow is exceptional
ly demanding, I had a hard time trying to teach her to hunt on her own." Zansui raised and lowered the Hawk, named Rainbow, who offered little more than a weak cry of irritation.

  "And Rainbow wants us to go now."

  "After my own heart," Jeria grunted, then heard the fluttering of wings next to his face. There were sharp spurts of air that stirred Jeria's hair, and the Samurai's expression twisted in momentary annoyance.

  Zansui froze as Jeria glanced to see a small blue bird perched on the armor of his shoulder.

  "And what is your name little one?" Jeria questioned, raising up his hand forward of his shoulder as an invitation. The little bird fluttered over and sang a brief song, dancing some between Jeria's finger.

  Zansui drew closer, smiling slightly. "Seems you made yourself a-"

  Another bird landed on Jeria, and another, all of them from Zansui's little flock. The tweeted and whistled, and the former Outrider raised her brows as her birds seemed to be introducing themselves.

  Essentially, a nervous fear that Jeria would do something offensive or hostile took over, and she watched her Father warily.

  Yet, soon, the nervousness had been replaced with curious intrigued as Jeria turned patiently to each one, looking interested in each note that passed from their beaks.

  <><><><><><><>

  Grigs found a lukewarm reception when he entered the Jakuul Manor. Firstly because he was a Tiefling, despite their status as being a Lord of Rilstar now, the guards and servants watched Grigs as warily as one would watch Jeria.

  It amused him, to say the least, considering the last time he had arrived here uninvited, Grigs had made off with a very valuable vase.

  One, in which, he returned shortly after marrying Zansui.

  But as Grigs prepared to head up the sweeping stairway that dominated the main hall, he noted the Black Armored men with their winding swords.

  The tiefling gripped at his own weapons, frowning before making his way to Rebekka's Office.

  Dratin had been there at the door, in a chain shirt and some odd looking dress. Grigs knew the Dragoon armor she loved so much would be undergoing repairs, but the offered little outside of a silent wave, and a perplexed look.