I have seen much toil of late, the earth underfoot has been stained with the blood of countless innocents
But for why, I ask?
Part the Third: Easternshire
Its quiet, save for my breath not but a sound stirs the warmth of the nights silence.
The cloth is bunched high neath my chin, I feel lonely in the isolated tent away from the others, I dont think its a privilege at all to have your own to claim at night.
I am a leader in place of charge at the fore of the remnant of an Eserian force, latter the day from whence our good-kings be slain at treacherys door, I find no comfort in the knowledge of days to come.
The deathly silence
I can near-but taste it linger amidst the latter-morn air.
Most of will remained is spent keeping animosity at bay tween my forces ready to give under the building tension and frustration, if that should fail then the Iyolish victory wouldst be complete.
Surely-be, a shout breaks the din, rousing half the encampment as two men begin a brawl over petty possessions and food
I make my way to there and by to find them with knifes drawn, luckily a moments come they have eachother by the wrist to stave off a final blow from one another.
Now I am of build be short against the height of my company, but my presence is no-less felt as they stop and turn to see the sadness in my eyes.
The pair climb away and sheath their arms, my silence is more hurtful and apparent than any words spoken, neither even make to excuse their actions.
To look upon me would be to gaze upon an image of weariness, betrayal and vulnerability, it is this that stings them the most to see once a valiant and appraised leader turned to nothing more than the child she is.
I affix them with a final stare, pleading in my eyes for this madness to stop before I turn and leave again, still not a word is spoken until I hear the two apologizing to each other.
Assemble the company; we leave at dawns first light! I quell my silence with orders dared not to be ignored, my voice still be of shaken resolve though my spirit remains unbroken for the most part.
<<< = = = = >>>
Be it still where you stand, and make haste about it
General Melleshe approaches! the captain was quick to order his scouts to continue surveying the earth underfoot for signs of the rogue companys movements as I appear over the hill, they bow deeply in fear of mine will, something I have no issue in revealing after hearing a dismal report from the Westernese.
The air is warm yet a hasten shower begins to pour, mine cloak pulled far over my head shielding from the downpour and enshrouding what could have been seen of mine face in an eerie shadow.
I hate this land
my voice is icy and threatens to freeze the air in mine chest.
Mine-Lady General, scouts are pressed fore and ahead and have a possible path of our target! the male-captain speaks proudly, I like mine mother despise all of them save for Brother-beloved, I look down upon him and his stature wavers for a moment, forcing himself into another bow with a step backwards to issue his submittal.
I lean down to the gathering mud and survey for mineself as all traces of their march begin to slip away, I clench a fistful of earth in mine be-leathered glove in frustration.
Youre lying under your tongue
he freezes like the marble statues of our family, even his breath is caught in his throat as he knows I am spoken with truth.
I have warned you before of trying to win favor in this fashion, I am not the fool as mine sister, captain, for she wouldst be a better leader than yourself should you continue to disappoint me; No rations for you this day!
I found something! one of mine scouts calls as I make to turn away, she sprints through the sodden mud as her golden hair clings to her face amidst the drenching cast; she holds aloft a brooch of a noblemans cloak, unmistakably of Eserian-make.
It was found just to the left of the main road, a sideways path that looks fairly new, I deem it to be the making of their march, betraying their own direction.
Division! Assemble and march! the captain calls as I signal my orders, the force behind me are already at their peak and the marching sound carries over the wail of the rain.
<<< = = = = >>>
I cannot sleep once more, I hear rain hitting the canvas that shields my resting form from the weather and prying eyes, every now and then the scrape of a boot and dull metallic sounds as the camp is disassembled in haste.
We had established a rough perimeter in the narrow of a small valley, enshrouded by overgrown trees and kept safe from the light of a south-Easternshiran moon.
I decide now is oppourute to make ready my own belongings, first fumbling in the dark outside for my sandals until a soldier comes to assist me with a torch in hand.
Douse that light, it can be seen for a way around, soldier
He was about to answer when his breath caught in his throat, impeded by a well-placed arrow, I look up to see not rain but a shower of them thundering the encampment, the tail feathers an ever-green and black now slick with the blood of the fallen man.
TO ARMS! I shout, those left asleep are roused by that and the screams of others painfully accepting the encounter with the deadly volley.
Hail after hail tore viscous holes in my company, the more that rose to fight led to the more casualties, there was no winning an ambush like this
<<< = = = = >>>
It had been a perfect move, I surveyed with unfeeling eyes the slaughter till naught but a lingering wail could be heard, not even a chance so much as to call for retreat
Each step forward brings more guards about me, the valley was a near-invisible cut in the landscape, its gradual decent masked perfectly by tall trees with even tops, yet just wide enough for mine archers to render the Eserian encampment nothing but a staggered slaughter.
I take no pride in viewing the survivors culling, yet no mercy for such impure beasts of the sands found drowning in a sea of ever-green.
Marking out the position in mine mind, seeing the lackluster placing of each tent, how they were halfway in path to make ready for a move
The only tent remaining was the high-pitched pavillion, clearly for that of a commander, or at least for what passes as one.
With blade in hand from mine sheath, I pry the veil apart to gaze upon an empty hut, filled with the effects of a noble-lady of the Great-Plains.
No body is found, the cowardly-woman mustve run!
Trackers! Fore and before! I call them to me, I must find her
I promised Queen-Mother