It was a stroke of luck when Urzog found a horse near an inn a few days back. Hell, he thought the gods had given up on him and he’d never receive that sort of luck in his life till then. Perhaps they just wanted to shift him to his next destination of pain faster so they could watch it. Hopefully, it wasn’t the last one, but then again, he didn’t reserve much hope.
The window for something terrible to happen today was shrinking at least. The bridge to the Republic was in sight at last and the sun was ebbing ever closer to the horizon. Beyond that was probably an inn or suitable resting place, Republic lands were known for at least that. He didn’t know much else about them however, even a free man in the empire couldn’t learn much about other lands unless they were lucky enough to talk to a wise traveller. Urzog was not that lucky, ever.
Ah…
He looked around, scanning all around him before settling on the path ahead as the far-off sound of hooves that weren’t his horse tickled his ears.
More hounds?
They’d be odd ones if they were… He could make out five of them all on good horses travelling down the hill to the river. The riders of each of them were notably different as well, all of different skin tones with a true mix of clothes. Most small mercs groups around these parts were usually made of Crajeks, Neuhderlanders, Čechtants, and occasionally Emoran Converts. Noards and Southlanders, especially Southlanders wearing noble clothes, weren’t the sort he’d expect to join them. That and most of them were too insecure to take lasses.
Perhaps they were merchants? It would explain their diversity and clothes, he’d seen that in Uribhafen before he was taken, the whole world represented itself in that city.
But one other thought passed through his mind. The others, the ones the inquisitors thought he knew. Seeing them must at least mean he was making good time to the border, given that they probably escaped with those horses. Either that or they’d been slowed by something. A something that may just be a daily dose of misery.
And if that was the case, he’d just have to kick its teeth in.
The bridge itself was clear at least apart from… Ah… Four men on the Imperial side and a stone watchtower, probably manned, likely with messengers and a few lookouts, plus the lieutenant or magistrate.
Now do they know about him, or them… Would they maybe take him aside anyway? An Ork with all the dirty signs of a rapid run for the border would draw suspicion, especially with his poleaxe. At least it wasn’t covered with blood anymore.
The five riders ahead stopped, pulling to the side of the road near the base of the hill. One of them was looking at him.
He kept riding closer to them, however, but kept his hand near his belt, ready to shift to his axe or knife.
The one looking at him was pale, dark-haired, and wore a deep red shirt. On his own back was an axe that his hands seemed poised to grasp. His attention however seemed to be split as he made sure to edge closer to one of his companions, a hooded man. Their hood seemed a little ill-fitting to Urzog as he drew closer, and as they turned and revealed their deep shining purple eyes that were unlike any human’s. On a closer look at the pale man, it also became increasingly clear that his skin was far paler than it should be and that his eyes were a deep, gem-like red—signs of a vampire.
Great. At least it was safe to assume between those two that they were probably the fugitives.
The other three didn’t seem magic, however. One was just a timid-looking young man with light olive skin, black hair, and blue eyes wearing a brown doublet. The second was a tall bulky well-armed woman with dark skin who wore a set of padded armour, probably a guard and one to be weary of.
The last had deep skin too, but not as deep as the guard and had brilliant white hair that flowed down like a mane along with clothes that just screamed “pompous nobleman” to him, even if he didn’t recognise the style. He was also tall and muscular, with a sword in a decorated but worn scabbard, adding another person in that group that might pose a threat to him.
All of them then turned to look at him. After a few moments with a few quick words exchanged between them, the guard and the noble grasped their reins and rode to meet him. The Guard taking her spear out was a detail that wasn’t lost on Urzog, even as the noble cultivated a small, ‘friendly’ smile. Some would call it an almost sickening one.
With a swing of his scarf to one side the man spread his arms out wide and called, “Hark! Are you crossing to the Republic as well?”
Urzog groaned. The noble’s voice was exactly the sort of smooth and arrogant tone he expected. “Why do you ask?”
“Because me and my retinue were just about to ask those lovely guards if we could go over.”
He snorted, “Retinue?”
“Of course!” The noble waved a hand daintily in the direction of his three other companions, “I am Ercole de Astoria, third son of the Duke of Namisure, with blood both from the King of Gaulik and the Great Scribe Maskini. You?”
“I’m Urzog, just Urzog, and I’m just an Orc and a freeman.”
“And what on business are you travelling to the Republic?”
“I could ask you the same.”
The two looked at each other for a few moments, Ercole’s smile never faltering, nor Urzog’s scowl.
Ercole blinked first, “You’re escaping the Inquisition, aren’t you? Caught following the wrong sect? It would be an awful coincidence otherwise, given that Neuhderland freemen with only the clothes on their back don’t tend to make long trips to the Republic otherwise.”
Urzog just snorted, “And so what if I am? Are you bounty hunters?”
“Oh, certainly not! I’m just friends with a few children of heathen gods on the way to my father’s fief.”
Heathen… The purple-eyed man… Could they be a demigod? If they are it might be a small bit of help from the gods for once…
“Who’s she then?” Urzog asked, nodding to the muscular guard whose grip had firmly tightened around their spear.
“Oh, her? She’s Shani, master of daemon hippos, mercenary of the Cudesh, don’t mind her.”
The deepening of her scowl as Ercole finished his introduction Urzog thought was all he needed to know about their relationship.
“So,” Ercole continued, “If you’d be willing, how about you come with us across the bridge and if anything… Unfortunate happens that requires us to take more extreme action to get over, we’ll help each other out. How does that sound?”
He studied him, then Shani, then the glaring Vampire whose eyes had not shifted from him since he’d caught Urzog in his gaze.
“As long as the vampire behaves himself and you keep to your word, I’ll walk across with you.”
“Oh, don’t worry!” Ercole chuckled waving a hand, “The vampire, Hreysti, is perfectly stable! I know what the rumours in the empire are but they’re an overgeneralisation! Come then!”
Ercole whipped his reigns and brought his horse trotting down the hill, Shani following behind him after a quick glance at Urzog.
He gave his horse a nudge and followed.
It was certainly a change of pace for a moment at least, even if at least one of the people he had to share that moment with was insufferable.
They rode up to the bridge, Ercole in front with Urzog and Shani flanking him, leaving the three others behind them. He couldn’t help but occasionally look back at them to see the rainbow of eyes glaring back at him. But again, if the purple-eyed one was a demigod, that would be the closest he would probably ever get to the divine…
The guards by the bridge moved from their post as they approached and blocked the bridge. A lookout on the tower also moved to the edge of the battlements, crossbow in hand but without a bolt loaded. Great.
A man in rich garbs walked out of the watchtower, short sword at his belt. The man probably barely knew how to use it though. He moved towards them, chalkboard in hand.
“State your business here.”
Ercole gave what seemed to be his trademark smile to the man as he dismounted. “Travel, we’re taking the land route through Emor to The League of Free States.”
“And you are?”
“Ercole de Astoria, son of the Duke of Namisure.”
The man looked him up and down, then shifted his gaze to Urzog. “What about this Orc?”
“He’s a member of my retinue!”
“That you only met a few yards up the road? I saw you from the tower having your chat!”
“And I’m the son of a Duke from the Kingdom of Gaulik, you’d do well to respect me because of that.”
“And what would a noble from Gaulik be doing all the way out here!? And you don’t look like you come from there at all!”
Ercole’s smile faded as his face darkened, one hand grasping for his reins, his other flexing as the gems on his rings started to shine a little. “What did you say to me? Think for a moment, lieutenant.”
“I think you’re just a stupid traveller imitating nobility! And I think that Orc might have something to do with a message we got yesterday from a messeng-“
But before they could finish Ercole’s hand had grasped their face. In a flash, it was consumed by a rippling fiery light of indescribable colour as the man howled. As Ercole ripped his hand away the mangled burnt flesh that was left was revealed, the lieutenant reaching to what was once his face but only finding the burning hot meat and bones left behind stripped of their skin. Ercole whipped his reins, and as the horse started to charge, hoisted himself onto it as it barrelled through one of the guards guarding the bridge.
Urzog didn’t need any more reasons to follow him, charging after him with the rest of his group.
Behind him, the brown-clothed man started to whimper, and the purple-eyed man, whose hood was now thrown down revealing his thick horns, pushed forward to ride beside Ercole.
“How did you do that!? Can you tell me how to do it?”
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