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Knightly moths have come to finish their story
Willing and foolishly after the mother of night
Disturbing others but can be intermission sight
So let them join be in the witness of Mægfæge
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Beating down,
“Ughhh” Ober croak his voice, legs spread as he let the clear sunrays grill and beat down on his open chest.
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“SEE!” Horney remains as squeaky as ever, pacing himself back and forth with brows furrowed. He did not even get a wink of sleep by the look of his sagging eyes. This makeshift cage slowly growing rustic watching his charade with the clear blue sky showing how empty the barbarian camp is. “THEY LEFT US! THEY LEFT US BEHIND! OH, FOR GOD’S SAKE THEY LEFT US!” his voice laced with frustration. “EVEN YOU LORD MAGISTER, LOOK AT THE STATE YOU ARE IN. ABSOLUTELY LIKE A PIG AFTER ROLLING ON MUD! THESE MUCH THEY THREW AT US. AND MY SMELL AUGH THE HORRIDITY OF PEE!”
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“I would be damned if rats were to start coming at us.” Ober clears his throat, sneezing at the salted smell of urine and fecal matter around them. “Worse is that…It is too hot for me to sip a warm teaaaughhh”
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“HEY! YOU LOT!” Horney screams for his men and soldiers in different cages, “GET OUT OF THERE! AND GET ME OUT OF HERE”
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What does he mean by get out of there when they too have lost any energy to stand or try to even fiddle with the weird rope knots. Strange knots that they think a finger or two must have been lost when tying these curses.
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“USELESS MORONS!” and he spits at the dry ground, punching and kicking their own cage door but the door won’t budge.
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A screech pierces the air, causing both men to flinch.
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“What was that?” Horney mutters before yelling out to the men if there is something and they quickly react this time, pointing and telling each other about what they are seeing. “What? What is it?”
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“G-GARGOYLES!” Their screeches mingling with the monsters as the flock descend upon the camp. Large bat like wings cover entire cages with sharp talons tearing apart left over carcasses by the barbarians. Even the horses are not spared for their meals. Everyone in the cages watch in horror as one of them stabs the cage ceiling of Horney’s men.
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With frail arms and swords, fear manage to keep their bone-dry legs standing and poking up against the man-sized talons. The gargoyle’s screams are enough to burst a baby’s eardrums and three of them, all working on that one cage. Horney’s men beg for the lord magister and Adviser to save them
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“L-LORD MAGISTER…” Horney turns to the old man who is stull muttering about tea. He tries to get Ober’s bald head back to their senses, shaking and slapping the living cheeks out of him but it is too late.
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Their pitiful screams for Horney and the lord magister turn into agony with their wooden cage completely torn apart. Bodies crumpling, splitting and outright swallowed whole while the man is still alive. Blood sprays and organs spill apart in a bloody feast. With bones being left in merely minutes. But death seems to stare at the next cage, for the five men in Kinguin armor. The gargoyles crash instantly destroying the cage and sending the men flying. Quick and agile speeds grabs two mid-air, instantly crushing their bones in their folded preference and slowly eating them, spitting out their bloody armors. Finally, they turn for the loud clown and old man. Eyes hungry with bloody mouths. Bellies sagging before a leap.
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Horney begs for the lord magister, his forehead on the stool, lips on the old man’s toes and tears streaming down his wrinkling face. A young man turned ugly old in mere seconds as death seems to crash for them. Large calows spread out, with house spanning wings that are eager to crash—slings a rope around their bodies and pull the creatures back.
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So forceful that they all thunder crash on the ground with a man yelling, “NOW!” Their crossbows firing true straight at the gargoyles’ wings first. Three bolts on each wing and making sure none can stand without tearing their limbs off. Then, steel stakes at the ready with fearless leaps and overhead strikes that pierces their weapons straight down at the monsters’ screeching heads. Leaving no gargoyle to lift their heads off the ground.
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“W-we’re saved?” utterly left in tears and prostrating shambles, “Haha…WE’RE SAVED!”
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“Yes, we are” Ober stands up, promptly wearing his clothing, robes and standing properly. Flinging his finger to burn the rope knot with hands eager to finally and eagerly shake the silver hair strand band of ostrich riders. One only greets the magister’s hand while the rest turn their heads away, probably to save their noses from his putrid ammonic scent. “Haha, I didn’t expect the rescue would be the legendary White Blood Knights. I’ve heard much of your great achievements sire. It is an honor to meet you.”
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“It is our honor to meet you as well, Lord Magister.” Greets a man with the bulkiest of features, his shaven grey beard matching with the single silver strand of loose hair, “The name is Tywin of House Silvermoon”
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“Y-YOU!” Horney starts again, “Hurry and bring us back to Kinguin. I’m sure you’ve been paid already, right? I will pay you double!”
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“Thank you, Adviser. But I and my mates do not accept any form of pay.”
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“T-Then, why are you helping us?”
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“My friend asked me to” Tywin smiles, “simple as that.”
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“And who is this friend of yours?” Horney asks while Ober asks a friendly looking female who is carrying spare brown robes for him to change into. “I can pay to them”
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“Oh?” Amusement in his dry lips, “I’m sure you know her,” Tywin says, gesturing with his hand for two men to bring in two horses. “Princess Thean”
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“T-Thean!” And his face looks like he stepped on a pile of stool. Gritting his teeth he mutters, “I should’ve expected.”
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“You will keep your word right Adviser?” Ober teases, “Thean would probably ask you your entire loot from Djahatis.”
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“That—That’d be too much of her!”
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“But it is like her to ask something that big.”
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The Adviser can only groan at the truth. Tywin and his mates all ride their ostriches while Ober and Horney ride on the horse provided. Following on the dirt road while the sun remains on the later stretch of morning. Passing the plains at speeds that raises the dust on the poor victims. Although, only Horney is getting dusted while Ober makes sure that the dusts part 3 meters away from him. Keeping his view steady and clear at the leader of these ostrich riders. Whose veiny arms holds a crossbow, sitting up straight and aiming forwards. PEW, bolt is fired and everyone passes by a woman with a gray skin, whose stomach bulges and pulses before exploding.
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“GAAH! What was that?” coughing himself and trying to make out of everything by keeping his head up above the dust but Horney is terribly short. That he might as well be considered dwarfized.
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“Just a Boomer.” Tywin yells through the thumping,
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Gordon, one of his mates ask why their population is growing
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And Tywin answer with uncertainty, “A necromancer, or perhaps someone greater is controlling them.”
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“I heard” Ober yells through the dust clouds, “I have read and heard that you’re a group of Dramescula hunters.”
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“Yes, lord magister! We are”
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“Did Thean invite you for the festival?”
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“I’ve heard so, but not quite.” He says, clearing his voice, “The princess and her older, High Princess Giza, have heard of our landing and decided to call us for a monster clearing operation. They’ve been waiting for us.”
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‘Is that why the princesses were mostly lazing around for weeks?’ Ober asks himself before asking another for Tywin, “Why have you come to Cyndoryll? Aren’t you based on the Dark West?”
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Just the sheer name sends a shiver up the Adviser’s spine, “They are!?”
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“You talk about Xzyklly right?” Referring to the Dark west, “Well, I simply follow my intuition.” Before muttering, “On where Dramescula is…”
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“InTuItION?” Horney just won’t shut up from groaning and complaining about the dust and now prying for information, “Thet’s how those werewolf hunters fell off as well. Followed their intuition and end up in an enemy that they could not counter. You must be after something else!”
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“Haha, we really aren’t after anything else other than Dramescula Adviser…”
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“You lot trust that delusional with this? Intuition? I’d say that leads you straight to death!”
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“Horney!” Ober scolds, warning him, “Enough with your words.”
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Then one mate says that she cannot stand what stinky urine man said to them and Tywin. “P-pack leader is no delusional, and, we will never be here if not for him. He saved us from when we were young. Saved us from the monsters of Dramescula and I know, we all know that wherever he goes, he would always meet her and that is why we trust him. No matter where he goes, we will be there for him’.”
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“Good words, young lady. What’s your name?”
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“Uh—It’s Dory, l-lord majisterr.” She catches her own words and closes her mouth. Apologizing to Ober that she has never tried saying the word “magister” before.
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“Just a happy honest mistake.” Ober says with a warm smile
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The sun beats down mercilessly on the prairie plains as the motley group rides on, their mounts kicking up clouds of dust in their wake. Tywin leads the pack, his weathered face set in grim determination, his silver hair strand gleaming beneath the harsh rays. His White Blood Knights follow close behind, a formidable force of ostrich riders, their armor glinting underneath their flailing hood and cape. Silver weapons at the ready on their belt side.
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Ober and Horney trail behind, the magister astride a sturdy horse while the Adviser clings precariously to his own mount, sputtering and coughing as the dust assails his face. Ober maintains an air of dignified calm, his robes pristine despite the journey, a subtle magic keeping the grit at bay.
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As they crest a hill, a horrific scene unfolds before them. A village lies in smoldering ruins, tendrils of black smoke curling into the sky. In the midst of the destruction, a woman with bloodied hands and clothes kneels in the road, her anguished wails piercing the smokey air.
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Horney's eyes narrow. "Ignore her," he hisses. "It is not our problem.”
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“But I want to” Tywin says,
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“Hey, hey, you know nothing of Cyndoryll's troubles, and it's best you all keep it that way."
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"Hold your tongue, Adviser," Zera, the red-haired mate with a long silver strand of hair snaps. "Tywin is our leader, and he will decide our course."
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Tywin raises a hand, calling for a halt. He dismounts smoothly, approaching the distraught woman with caution. "What happened here?" he asks, his voice gentle yet commanding.
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The woman looks up, her tear-streaked face etched with despair. "Please, sir, you must help me! A fire is devouring our wheat fields, and we have no way to stop it!"
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Tywin's brow furrows. "Is there a nearby river?"
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“no” She shakes her head. "The great Micelea is kilometers away. We are doomed!"
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Horney scoffs. "You, see? It's hopeless. Let us be on our way."
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And Tywin calls for Hubert and Gordon, the two boys, to shut the Adviser’s mouth before turning to Dori, "Do you think you can handle this?"
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The young girl flaps her eyes awake “Oh, I did not think, well, I can try."
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As they approach the burning fields, Ober steps forward, his hands weaving an intricate pattern in the air. To everyone's astonishment, a shimmering barrier springs up around the village, halting the flames' advance.
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"Incredible," Gordon breathes. "How did you do that, Lord Magister?"
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Ober shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A simple barrier to contain the fire."
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The girl takes a deep breath, her body swaying in a mesmerizing dance. Above, gray clouds gather, a drizzle beginning to fall. But it's not enough.
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The woman's sobs intensify. "It will not be enough! Oh, the drunk man, he did this! He tried to shoot my son, but missed and hit the fields instead. Then he fled like the coward he is!"
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Hubert and Gordon exchange a glance, moving to comfort the distraught woman. Zera turns to Tywin, a question in her eyes. "Do you want to find this drunk man?"
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Tywin considers for a moment. "Do you think we should?"
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Zera nods. "If it is your wish, I will gladly oblige."
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"Very well. Sam, oversee the group while we're gone."
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The silent mate nods, her gaze sharp and alert. Horney sneers, muttering under his breath, but a swift slap from Sam silences him, then a spank on his horse to send him scurrying away to the plains.
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As Tywin and Zera depart, Sam surveys the scene. The drizzle is forming puddles now, and a strange sight catches her eye. A morphid, a water elemental sprite, emerges from a pool, gliding towards the flames.
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An idea sparks in Sam's mind. "Hubert, dig some basins to hold rainwater. Dori, expand the drizzle as far as you can."
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They set to work, and soon, morphids are rising from the newly formed pools, converging on the fire in a relentless assault. The flames hiss and sputter, slowly succumbing to the elemental onslaught.
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Tywin and Zera return just as the last embers fade, their faces grim. They turn to the woman, suspicion clouding their eyes.
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"Why did you burn the village?" Tywin asks, his voice dangerously calm.
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The woman's sobs turn to laughter, a chilling sound. "There's no point in having a village with no villagers. I didn't want the Nautrens to claim it."
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Zera's eyes narrow. "Then why ask for help?"
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The woman shrugs. "I didn't want the entire plains to burn. Just the abandoned village."
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Horney sputters in outrage. "She's a murderer! We must take her prisoner!" And he yanks the woman’s arm and strap her to the horse with his belt. They all watch as the Adviser cleverly manage to tie the woman to the horse. And have room for himself to sit. “Don’t worry friends, I will be taking her as prisoner. You don’t need to worry yourselves so let us get along now. I still need to hurry and do some other stuff so can you stop staring at me like I am some kind of slave trader?”
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And they stop staring at the Adviser before galloping once more on King’s Road.
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With the sun settling high, the riders finally pass a familiar bridge with an arch that welcomes travelers for Kinguin’s Kings Road. The vast plains turn into fields of wheat. Rolling hills wave their leafy greetings with a vibrant plain spirit, that look as if it is as tall as a five-storey structure, also happily greet them. All the mates are amazed by the magnificent creature. Ober telling them about it, and how Atormis has sprites that grow into spirits before entities—following a hierarchy that keeps Ober’s tongue loose and excited to tell, especially more about the plain spirits. “They’re the ones keeping all plains and fields healthy, as well as ward off pests and monsters.”
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And the mates wave back at the giant spirit with glee. With Tywin keeping his short before mentioning of the growing silhouette over yonder. A large rectangular structure that lengths far to their peripheries.
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“That’s the third wall of Kinguin.” Ober continues his tourist guide explanations about how Kinguin has five walls and they are yet to pass the fourth wall, “Which would be a hill because it has long crumbled already.”
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“Then, that arch and bridge we pass was like for the fifth wall?” Dori guess
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And Ober commends her for the astute answer, nodding before telling everyone the customs in Kinguin, especially when meeting the princess or any nobles. Then Horney cuts Ober with the traditional customs of having their head on the floor and kiss the princess’s toes. But of course, Ober argues about it, “They’re from foreign lands, a bow is enough.”
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“Preposterous, they should follow our customs while we are here.”
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“While that is true” Ober says, “There are conditions that has to be checked before you would want them to do it.”
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“Kinguin is a faithful kingdom, am I right lord magister?” Tywin asks
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“Yes sire!” Then the magister once again got back to ramble all about Kinguin, about how the people would gladly strip off their pride and putting their whole trust to their leaders.
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“That sounds like us to you Tywin” Gordon whistles as he lay his back on his ostrich,
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“Y-yeah, I agree” Dory nods before every mate concur that they would try to enjoy their time in Kinguin.
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“But duty calls first” Tywin says, but the others don’t seem to like the idea.
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“Let’s enjoy a day or two first in the capital! Then we can go hunting!” His mates proposes and even Ober agrees for Tywin and the group to rest. With Horney, like a good boy, keeps his mouth shut other than his glaring eyes seemingly noting every little moment that is happening of the party.
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