Iron Blooded

Four hours after our triumphant return to camp we sat by the fire.

Our clothes had been washed and now hung on a line nearby. Steam curled off of the fabric as they dried.

It felt good to be dry again. After scrubbing myself clean of mud in the wash basin, I had put on new clothes and went to visit the Smith.

The man had been happy to see me, and that joy grew to wonder when I pulled the snake scale from my inventory.

“Incredible,” he had said, reaching for it. His hands paused and he licked his lips.

“May I?”

When I nodded the Smith had hefted the scales in his hands, running a practiced eye over them. Then he laid them on the counter and brought out a set of tools. He tapped at them carefully with a small hammer, then used a small pair of tongs to pry one of the scales free.

“Basilisk scale eh,” he muttered to himself. “I have never seen its like before. Oh, I’ve heard stories indeed, but to see the real thing.”

He whistled.

"I need gauntlets," I said. "Thick ones and heavy armor if you can manage it. I have the coin to pay upfront."

The Smith nodded eagerly, his attention still mostly focused on the scales as I placed my order.

I had walked back into camp in time to hear the start of Kato’s story. Now I was lounging on a supply crate listening to the exaggerated tale be retold.

"I swear it gets less and less accurate every time I hear it."

Draxus was sitting on the ground nearby, his elbow propped on his knee as he read his book. I tilted my head to see the cover.

“The fair maiden’s voyage?”

He cut me a glare.

“I prefer stories with happy endings.”

“Well, it certainly beats real life.”

Gills swept in beside me and took a seat on the edge of the crate. He had several pieces of parchment in his hands and kept rifling through them.

I raised a brow.

“Payroll,” said Gills. “The loot you boys brought back will be enough to feed the third for a good long while. It’s hard to believe,” he laughed and shook his head.

“Thank you, Will. Since you’ve arrived I’d say the 3rd’s luck has changed for the better. The only problem is that we lack the infrastructure to support this new flow of income. I think it's time I consider hiring on a quartermaster.

I smiled.

"Not a bad problem to have."

Gills nodded.

“That said,” he dumped some of the papers in my lap. “I think you should consider branching out.”

I lifted the parchment, smoothing it out in my lap. Tight black script in several neat rows was scrawled across its surface. It was an order form and there was an amount at the bottom.

“What’s this?” I asked, frowning.

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“Well,” Gills scratched his beard. “It’s typical for Knights to have their own coat of arms. And if they have men under their command, then those men should also wear their livery. It’s only proper.”

He tilted his head at me, amused by my surprise.

“What do you know of Ceris?”

“I’ve heard of it,” I said, carefully. “It’s a large southern city surrounded by white walls. They say that the city has never known snow."

Gills nodded.

“It is also a wealthy city. Not as fancy as some of the larger Kadian cities, and not as aristocratic as the capital. But In a place of that size, there is bound to be a good tailor with the proper experience. As a Knight, you’ll be expected to present yourself at court.”

The thought made my stomach twist.

“More politics,” I grumbled and Gills laughed. “You better get used to it, lad. At this point, they’ll be singing about your feats in taverns.”

I groaned and laid back against the rough wood of the crate, draping an arm over my eyes. I listened to the sound of voices for a while as the 3rd laughed and ate together. There was a companionable silence between the three of us.

Occasionally the sound of gills muttering a number or Draxus turning a page was soothing. I checked my notifications window, and seeing it was empty, decided to look at my stats. I was level 18 now and steadily rising.

My base stats were high enough that I could hold my own against stronger foes. I would have to test my limits soon if I really wanted to know what I was capable of.

Skills were my most powerful asset, which meant a focus on completing Quests would be the most beneficial.

Only… no new Quest had appeared to me since I had found the Book of Souls. Was that intentional?

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I rubbed at my face.

“You alright?” asked Draxus, leaning his book on his knee. “You’ve seemed distracted."

I sat up.

“I’ve been thinking about the Lady Inquisitor,” I said. “About everything that happened in the bog.”

Draxus face darkened.

“She’s a puppet of the Inquisition,” he growled. “Nothing more.”

I grimaced.

“I’m not so sure. I have no doubts that she’s dangerous, and I wouldn’t trust her if I had a choice. But there is much more going on that I don’t quite understand.”

Gills glanced up from his ledger, listening.

Draxus looked skeptical but he waited to hear my theory.

I licked my lips.

“What if there is… unrest inside the Inquisition itself? They serve the God King, but does that mean there aren’t different sects of the organization?”

Gills considered it.

“I suppose it’s possible. The trouble is that outsiders don’t know much about the Internal workings of the Inquisition itself. They are an old order, and they guard their secrets well.”

“They have their own branch in every major city,” said Draxus. “I suppose it’s entirely possible that each sect has created its own subculture. Maybe If we get lucky they’ll start eating one another.”

I snorted and rose to my feet.

“I should get some sleep,” I said. By this time tomorrow, we should be out of this cursed swamp.”

I started to turn away when Gills caught my arm.

“There’s someone here for you,” he said. “I think you’d better go.”

I frowned.

“At this hour? Who…?”

I trailed off as my gaze landed on Lord Blackthorne’s messenger. I sighed.

“I shouldn’t keep him waiting.” I said as I strode for the edge of camp.

The messenger waisted no time in pleasantries.

"Come with me," he said briskly, before walking away.

I followed him out of range of the talk and laughter of the 3rd. We passed a row of sleeping soldiers and turned right along the back of some tents. It was dark out, and only the flickering of the staked torches shed light on our surroundings. I frowned when I saw we weren’t going in the direction of Lord Blackthorne’s tent.

“Uh,” I said uncertainly. “Aren’t we going the wrong way?”

The messenger didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and slipped between two tents, disappearing into the darkness. I froze, suddenly aware that the only weapon I had was in my boot.

I was armorless, and what was more, I was alone. Before I could react a man stepped from the shadows.

“My apologies for the unorthodox meeting spot, Ser William,” rumbled Lord Blackthorne. “But I wanted to speak with you in private where I knew we wouldn’t be overheard.”

I relaxed my stance and bowed, unsure of what to make of this.

Blackthorne was dressed in plain dark clothes, and his great sword was nowhere to be seen. The sleeves of his tunic were rolled neatly to his elbows and I realized with a start that it was the first time I had ever seen him look so… human.

“Walk with me,” said Blackthorne. He clasped his hands behind his back and strode off along the row of tents. I jogged to catch up with him, falling into step as we rounded the corner.

“I heard you had your first encounter with a Mind Mage,” he said. I grimaced as I remembered the pressure in my head. The pain had felt like being stabbed in the eye with a hot needle.

“There were… Differences between the Lady Inquisitor and I, my Lord.”

Blackthorne boomed a laugh.

“That’s putting it lightly. Listen Blackbriar, you tread new territory here. Most men who are Knighted are from wealthy families. Some are distantly related to nobility while others are sons of famous craftsmen or council members. To have a peasant elevated to that status is, well, unprecedented.”

He fell silent as a pair of patrolling sentries marched past, stopping only to bow to their Lord.

He rubbed at his oiled beard. “Lord Dacon may have honored you, but he has also put you in a precarious position. You have been thrust into our world without any preamble, but you’ll be expected to know the ways of the Kadian Upper Echelon all the same."

“Do you mean at the court in Ceris my Lord,?” I asked.

Blackthorne nodded.

“The Lord Governor of Ceris is…an extravagant man. Excess and wealth have long been the motto of his household. That said, he makes it a point to collect people and it’s rumored that he has a Mind Mage in his employ.”

I frowned.

“I thought all the Mind Mages worked for the Inquisition.”

The torchlight flickered on Blackthorne’s features, giving his face a serious cast.

“All Mind Mages born in Kadia must be registered,” he said. “That is the law. But not all are taken to the Sanctum to train as DarkBlades. Most untrained mages have weak powers and aren’t particularly dangerous……” he trailed off and I sighed.

“But this one is.”

He nodded and rubbed at a scar on his finger as if it pained him.

“I have never had dealings with her myself," he said. "but it’s my understanding that she has exceptional ability."

He glanced at me.

"Of course, I’m telling you this because I believe that whatever secret you are hiding might be at risk of being exposed if you don’t learn to guard your mind.”

My heart lept into my throat.

“What are you referring to my Lord?” I managed past the slamming of my heart against my rib cage.

Blackthorne shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“I have no interest in learning your secrets Will of Blackbriar.” He said. “You are a loyal soldier and a capable one. If I believed you were dangerous you’d be long dead.”

I remained silent for several seconds as I tried to think of a suitable response. When none came, I asked:

“When you say guard your mind, do you mean there are ways to stop Mind Magic even if the user has no magic affinity?”

Blackthorne seemed amused at the change of subject but he didn’t remark on it.

“Shielding your mind from the probe of a Mage is something most of high society are taught at a young age. Without the skill, our courts would become vulnerable to spies and manipulation. It is a talent that can be taught, though it must be practiced.”

He arched a brow at me and I nodded.

“It requires discipline but I believe you have the proper foundations already.”

He held out a hand, and one of his household guards stepped forward to deposit something into it. It was a folded piece of parchment with an official household seal.

“Come and see me at least twice before we reach Ceris. My guards will allow you access to my tent if I am not immediately available.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” I said taking the parchment and tucking it carefully away in my inventory.

Blackthorne looked as if he wanted to say more and I saw the war behind his eyes. With a spike of fear, I wondered if he already suspected that I was not who I seemed. His assertion that I had a secret was vague, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was intentional.

At last, Blackthorne straightened and I nearly sighed in relief when he bid me good night. As I trudged back through the encampment my head was swirling with thoughts and worry.

How could I learn what Lord Blackthorne knew without asking him outright what he had meant?

I didn’t dare, not when my secrets were the difference between life and death. Only days ago I had seen a man executed for treason, and I knew a more grisly fate awaited me if my origins were discovered.

The shout of a sentry drew my attention, and I stopped short. There was a commotion on the western side of camp despite the late hour. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what was going on.

A man in messenger’s livery hurried past and I caught his arm. He turned, annoyed.

“What’s going on?” I asked him. The man’s sneer died on his lips when he realized who I was.

“Ser William,” he said. “Forgive me I didn’t recognize you. I’m to Inform Lord Dacon that the Lady Inquisitor has returned to camp, and she’s brought with her a prisoner.”

The excitement in the man's voice made my stomach drop.

“A prisoner?” I asked even though I could guess the answer. The man nodded, white teeth flashing in the firelight.

“An Otherworlder,” he said. “A real Heretic. Rumor has it she's a witch. Do you think we'll get to see her burn?"

My hand dropped to my side, suddenly numb.

"I don't know," I said. The man shrugged. "Well, I best be getting on. Have a good night Ser William."

The messenger jogged away in the direction of his Lord’s tent and I was left standing in the dark.