7. Conspiracy of sorts (1/2)
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I. This opens up a series of chapters that will conclude the tourney in Riverdor. It will set up the larger story-lines for important characters, some not yet introduced that are to follow in this and the sequel Lure O' War. Several POVs will be affected, but not Glen. Not at this time.

II. As it is implied, the Lorians are humans with old central European characteristics with a touch of Roman blood, Cofols are of Asian (Persian for those from the Peninsula) heritage and the Issirs resemble sub-Saharan Africans with pure white hair. Northmen are a mix between the lovely Irish and Scandinavians.

III. This story follows separate threads and protagonists. but mostly as is written in the premise, a gallant hero, a cunning diplomat and a lying scoundrel.

 

 


 

Lord Storm Nattas

Conspiracy of sorts

part I

 

 

More than twenty days into their journey, Lord Nattas small party crossed the old Maiden’s bridge, built by the first Alden on the river that carried the same name, and entered the Alden plains. The old walled city of Alden was built in a strategic position on the Demon’s horn Peninsula, blocking the narrow land strip between the two local rivers; Captain’s Lament in the North and Maiden’s River in the Southeast.

The gates to the rich Alden plains as they were called. The famous hunting grounds of the Blacktiger forest were located in the Southwest, where the peninsula narrowed considerably taking its distinct shape and ended on sheer cliffs overlooked by the Demohorn Castle.

They reached the city of the ‘five Keeps’ a day later, already late in their attempt to make it to the tourney on time. Three weeks on the road, Lord Nattas was worn out and at the edge of his tether, so seeing the East Gate leading into the walled city almost brought him to tears. Alden’s walls stood tall surrounding the city in a giant square shape, four Keeps guarding its corners, two giant gates; one to the east, the other to the west, leading inside the city proper.

Another inner set of walls surrounded its heart, the palace, the library and the temples. They were circled by a wide moat and in order to reach this inner part of the city you’d have to cross two draw bridges. The ancient Keep, modestly called the Guard-tower, stood there as well, as a last line of defense.

The Aldens, one of the oldest families of Lorians, had used this as their starting stronghold and center of power until they conquered the whole Kingdom of Regia, in the eons before the dawn of the new age. Although it stood as the seat of power for the first Alden Kings for years, eventually famed King Lucius Alden brought the throne of Regia to the new city of Cartagen around 10 NC (New Calendar), as much for economic reasons and as a precaution. Alden city stood too close to the border with the Great Kingdom of Kaltha for the warry King.

“I need a drink and a bath,” Storm said, face burned by the sun, his clothes caked in road filth. “I smell more horse than a person right now.”

“We could have made better time,” Sudi commented, himself in much the same condition. “Stopping at that village was a waste of a day.”

Rosebush.

“We could have also died in the attempt,” Storm retorted. “Not much use in that.”

Utnas raised his big head and looked at the busy Merchant road leading inside the city.

“We need to find food,” He said sounding worried.

“Good Gods, I’m sure we will find a tavern that will feed us, you idiot,” Storm growled. His mood worsening the longer he stood on the saddle.

“We should visit the office as well,” Sudi commented, referring to lord Nattas personal quarters in the palace.

“Nah, send a runner,” Storm decided. “I’m not crossing the market in this heat.”

“Parkor may still be here,” His man said.

“Well, my idiot nephew can come if he wishes,” He turned to Utnas. “Find us a tavern,” He said, his mind already on the comforts of a bath and a good cup of wine.

 

 

An hour later, bathed and fed, wearing a new clean set of clothes an aide had brought him, lord Nattas enjoyed the shade of a veranda at an expensive tavern, near the East Gates. A bottle of Flauegran, chilled and a little spicy, helped calm his nerves and improve his spirits.

For a brief moment.

Titus Balbus, the sellsword in his employment, fresh and well rested from his more enjoyable sea journey, was telling them the latest news. Titus was a broad shouldered former soldier, turned pirate ‘for a moon’, eventually becoming a sellsword among other things, of thirty eight years with a full set of black hair, thick eyebrows and a well-groomed beard.

“I’m telling ya all,” Titus said in his booming voice, making the patrons sitting at the other tables look their way. It was a colorful crowd to the point of insanity, lord Nattas thought eyeing a solitary man donning a thick woolen hood of all things. “The man swore on his mother’s soul, her tits were as big as watermelons. I freely admit, I was too mesmerized of her face, to pay attention to anything else.”

“No way,” Parkor, his eighteen year old nephew said. Bastard son of his late sister, whose death had forced the lad on him. Jenny had never given a thing worth-a-lick in her short life to lord Nattas and he hated her for it. He hated the little weasel even more. “No way, they were that big.”

“The fact that it was a mermaid of all bloody things,’ Storm said putting his goblet on the table in front of him, ‘that popped out of the fucking sea, then hopped on to the deck, a fact witnessed mind you, by the whole crew according to this buffoon, yet no one collaborated the fucking story other than him…’ Nattas paused, feeling his tempers flare up again. ‘…so he had to swear on his poor mother’s soul in order to get some gravitas, should have told you dear nephew, the man is lying. The size of her fucking tits adds absolutely nothing to this senseless story.”

“Come on uncle—”

“Address me with my proper name!”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

Titus smacked his lips. “Lord Nattas, you should really be more open to the wonders of the world. Ye can’t unsee what you see.”

“The moment I start believing in mermaids with tits the size of watermelons,’ Storm replied deliberately looking at Sudi, ‘You have permission to slit my throat open.”

A moment of silence followed his words. Then Sudi hawked to get their attention, the hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth. “On a lighter note,’ he said ‘it appears we may have some word about the identity of our mystery Cofol Lord.”

“He’s an impostor,” Storm retorted wryly still miffed. “They found out about him and chopped his head off. Must have caused a riot, damn shame we missed it.”

Sudi scratched his nose hesitantly. Titus found it amusing. His laughter caused another wave of looks from the nearby patrons.

“He’s a Prince actually. Prince Radin Radpour. Younger brother to the heir of the Khanate.”

“Great. What else?”

“Well, he had been missing for some time. Travelled around probably. His entourage call him Bloodfang.”

Storm sighed and reached for his goblet. “Abrakas save us. The more I hear… What does this even mean? Can he win this?”

“I doubt it,” Sudi said quickly.

“Based on what?” Storm asked, not expecting such a quick retort. “You don’t know the man.”

“Well he’s not over twenty-five for starters, never competed in a tourney before.”

“Lucius won his first tourney before he turned eighteen. He had never competed before as well,” Storm pointed out.

“He’s not that good,” Sudi replied defensively.

“Well, I will take by your conviction you know something we don’t?”

“Come on lord Storm, they will break the fool. Lots of fine knights in the tourney,” Titus said.

“The Prince is a great warrior,” Utnas cut in before Storm could answer. He snaped his head towards the big boned Cofol like a viper.

“So you know him?”

Utnas shrugged his shoulders.

“What the fuck does this mean?” Storm growled.

“I don’t know him. But he’s a Prince of Rin An-Pur,” The big man said simply and that was that.

 

 

Lord Storm Nattas pressed his fist on his swollen leg and worked it with the knuckles. It hurt him when it was too hot, mostly in the flesh. It hurt him, when it was too cold, mainly in the bones. He didn’t know which pain was worst, but vividly remembered disliking them both. You can’t pick from two poisons, he thought paying little attention to the conversation his men were having. Both will kill you.

The mere thought of climbing a saddle to reach Riverdor seemed as deadly at this point. Sudi always mindful to bother him when he least wanted it, turned intent on asking him something most likely awful.

“Don’t.”

“My Lord,” Sudi said with fake respect.

“Titus, can you kill this man, if I asked you?”

The clearly inebriated former soldier chortled.

“Sure.”

Sudi shook his head. “We must get back on the road,” He said.

“You want me to do him now?” Titus asked and knowing him he was half-joking half being serious.

Storm was tempted for a moment, then decided against it.

“Will we make it?”

“Probably not. Unless we take fresh horses with us. Ride them when ours get tired. We will cut down on the time.”

His leg started throbbing again.

“What if we get tired?” He asked.

“We’ll be fine,” Sudi replied.

Titus reached for another refill and Storm caught his move. “Stop it. We may need to leave soon,” He sighed seeing no other alternative. “At least we could try to make more stops along the way,” He haggled.

Sudi nodded in agreement. Too quickly, Storm thought. The bastard will ride us to death. “I will make arrangements.” The Issir said standing up.

“Uncle… Lord Nattas,” Parkor tripped over his tongue trying to speak.

“You want to come with us,” Storm declared solemnly.

“Well… yes. How do you…”

Storm sighed. “I’m a seer in my spare time,” He said and the young man frowned taken aback. “Don’t repeat it anywhere, it’s a secret.”

Parkor looked around to gauge the others reaction to his words but everyone kept their composure until Titus roaring laughter almost brought down the tavern.

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