After settling Severn and the whores in a wooden cell connected to the horses, Alarick ordered his soldiers to get them some blankets so they wouldn't freeze and went to gather some personal supplies from his own stash that he usually take on every long trip.
He stopped at the library to warn his father he was leaving for some time.
“Han zove uvek agus dur liga, como ele inide hulemi,” Randal said from his seated position on the big poltro.
(He calls and you go, just like always.)
The powerful stature and posture hadn’t left his father, though his hair was getting whiter every year, along with the sadness and despair in his black eyes. Alarick remembered this poltrone, it was his mamkka’s favorite.
He shook his head from the memories, refusing to be caught in the same depression, refusing to look at the portrait on the wall beside his father.
“Yimesilali asifelagi. Han neberi ha teria conhece nu ar. Dur fost iarraidh alehi,” he said, walking away from the comforting warmth of the place that his mamkka loved so much.
(It seems important. He wouldn’t have begged if it wasn’t. You know the creature.)
"Yeah, yeah. Oh, and Alarick?” his father called in Gythanean.
“Yes?” he said, turning around.
“Tame him this time, eh?” his father laughed. “Show him who is the Warlord, for once.”
Alarick smirked. “Yeth, vardekka,” he said.
(Yes, father.)
His father wanted him to settle down, and he wasn’t opposed to that as he once were.
As long as it is with Erriene, of course.
Maudians came from barbarians. That was true. But they weren’t, mostly. Their system of government was different from most countries out there.
Firstly, there wasn’t a king, but there was one Warlord who more or less acts as the King. A Warlord was the man that commanded the country with his voice and his sword, and had to be able to take on any other man that challenged him. Also, he had to be on the field, always.
So despite that position coming from inheritance, he was the Warlord, not his father.
Randal was fifty-one now and he would live a long healthy life because of his frost giant blood, but he was not in any shape to lead an army.
Not because of age, but because of grief. An unexpected grief, that shouldn't have come as early as it came.
Alarick stopped at the door, clenching the door knob in his hands. “You… you should move on, vardekka,” he said in a cautious voice. “It’s been two years. You could still be leading this country with me.”
His father’s eyes went glassy, as they always went when they stepped in this subject.
“I… It feels pointless without him,” his father said finally, and Alarick’s eyebrows went up at the confession.
It was the first time Randal didn’t straight up ignore him and walked away from the conversation.
Aefstine had been the closest thing to a motherly figure Alarick had and the one that married his father. But he, of course, wasn’t the one that birthed him.
Even if he had been a woman, he wouldn't have birthed Alarick. Because the Warlord had to be on field, he also couldn’t afford to be hurt or die easily. It could be the death of their empire.
So their family came from a legacy of children born by frost giants from a warlord’s blood. If the child was born a woman, the giants took her away. If it was a man and human, he would be the next Warlord.
Alarick never knew who the one that birthed him was, but it didn’t matter. Aefstine was his mamkka. He was worse than Alarick in his tantrums sometimes, he remembered, smiling, finally giving in and glancing at the picture that didn’t do his mamkka any justice.
Elf descendants aged slower in appearance, and despite Aefstine always denying his elven heritage, his complexion gave it all away despite not having pointed ears.
His father could barely handle Aefstine. The older his mamkka got, the better he was in getting his way like any elf did- by persuasion and enchanting innocent looks. But Aefstine was such a soft spoken man, innocent in his playful ways.
Alarick opened his mouth to say something else, but his father shook his head, and went back to his book. And so, he left the library with a heavy heart.
Alarick still couldn't handle Aefstine’s death either, or rather, his disappearance. Because that's what really happened.
Nothing final. He just vanished into thin air, as if he’d been a dream all along.
Two years ago, during a cold winter night, a broken bridge and his mamkka calling in a broken, soft voice…
“Do not come any closer, my son.”
Aefstine was barely on his forties, his father was struggling in a battle with a giant and those last words would be carved on the walls of Alarick’s mind forever.
When Alarick told Thorne that he had decided to hear Erriene out about this mission, the man winced in sympathy.Thorne, who had a long hair that he kept tied and a black beard that he trims, trotted his horse along with him in the front line. He supposed his party of soldiers was too big, but you never knew with Southerners.It wasn’t as if he was showing off.Maybe he was, a little.“Det taj aquele, hein?” Thorne said, walking on thin ice.(That one, eh?)No one ever knew where the line crossed when the subject was Erriene.Alarick was confused himself.One thing was for sure, no Northerner ever wanted to speak with Prince Erriene.It wasn’t because he was rude and spoke nasty about them, no.It was because the prince could be extremely pleasant, and use that against you. Also because he could manipulate and twist your own words when he wanted something from you, and he would never tell you what it was.Any other person like that wouldn’t survive a week in Maud because they tended t
Alarick’s party arrived in the Temple of Cyndel with very low panic from the citizens. Actually, most of them bowed for him, and even said some Maudinian words of praising. Interesting, but supposedly expected since Cyndel was joined at the hip with Maud.The temple was a big building made to train druids and hunters, different from the ones where priests studied the old books.Alarick saw the people gathered in front of the temple moving inside, while some of them called Erriene's name. They seemed wary but trusting all at the same.Alarick watched a familiar figure walking from inside of the temple, and the afternoon sun lazily shone over the silver white hair.Those violet suspicious eyes narrowed over the amount of soldiers Alarick brought along, but Erriene’s expression and slight nod said he was already expecting it.The regal creature waited for everyone to settle with a patience Alarick didn’t had.Erriene was always so proper, so put together. The right rings on his long ar
They entered through the temple and Alarick noted that a lot of people from Gytha were laying around, completely at ease.Something else he noted was that almost all of them had bruises and wounds all over, some still in bandages- still healing.Erriene showed the dinner spread around in low tables by the floor to the soldiers and Alarick’s mouth watered at the sight of food.They ate in the travel, alright; they were good hunters. But it was something else when it was done with vegetables, herbs and whatever it was that Erriene and the others put in the food to make it smell like that.“Don’t worry. You are free to eat now if you want to, but I saved some for you,” the Prince said, an urgent tone in his voice. “I wish we could talk first, if you don’t mind.”Alarick looked at him. “I don’t mind. Let’s get this over with.”The temple was a very solid construction made of wood and rock, and the floors were clean as if they spent the whole day mopping it. It was dirtier now with the so
Alarick nodded slowly while Erriene trembled and tried to gather a little of his dignity. A troll invasion was more like a plague taking over than anything else. They were dumb, ugly,hairy creatures that moved around forests, and when they grouped together, usually to the command of a big leader, they went to the bigger cities to find food. That could be anything from bread to vegetables and meat. The more crazy ones would even eat humans, but it wasn’t their preference. Trolls could take over an entire country given the time and the right luck. They reproduced fast and the younger ones were ready to fight pretty quickly. It was unlucky that they caught the little villages because they couldn’t defend themselves. A city would handle it better. If the invasion of the land wasn’t contained fast, they would leak to other places and then it would be impossible to track them all. On the other hand, Alarick thought troll
Two YearsAgo… Alarick found a nymph on his garden. Or so he thought, at first glance. It had been a tough afternoon; his father hadn’t joined them at yet another hunt for a couple of ogres trespassing the forest ever since his mamkkadisappeared a couple months back. He was angry at the world and depressed. They both were. But instead of locking himself in one of the rooms in the fortress like his father, he was out there, raising his sword and killing everything in his way. They may be father and son and share the same blood, but right now, the both of them have different ways in coping up with the devastating loss. His clothes were damp, there was mud in them, and he’d been circling around the fortress trying to find anything he could show his wrath toso it wasn’t too far off to saythatstumbling acros
Back to the present… “Clay-brained orc,” Errienemurmured to the empty room. He closed his eyes and breathed one more time. Alarick’s scent was still in the room, making his head spin. A leathery smell, mixed with an animalistic scent. It had something to do with his confidence. Alarick had a presence that often muddled his string of thoughts. His figure much reminded him of Fourthly, the ogre that worked in the well who had a thick neck and broad shoulders like a bull. Alarick was built like a strong bull, but way taller than Fourthly. A giant. A young, reckless and inconsequential giant bull. It unnerved Erriene how tall he was, how strong he was, how he treated him like he owned him. Alarick wasn’t ugly exactly. Far from it actually. It shouldn’t matter to him but one may argue his strong jaw and straight nose were attractive, if one was slightly drunk. Or so he wan
Erriene stood in front of Alarick, hands firmly clasped behind his back as his soldiers stood outside ready to leave.“Is it done?” Alarick asked, watching the blue magic that surrounded them minutes ago disappearing.The words were a little tricky to say, unknown to him, and the thrill he felt at his guts when the magic circled him and Erriene was overwhelming, in a good way.Erriene had handed him the contract and he had dropped a little of blood on it, and it was a little unusual with land binding contracts. But he would send it to Maud, and it would be protected.“Yes, yes,” Erriene said with impatience. “Now tell me, why are there soldiers all over the temple?”Alarick had spent the last two days sending letters to Maud to let his father know of his plans, and waiting for a good amount of soldiers to travel to the Temple of Cyndel. He had sent some men around to find the trolls’ positions
Two days later, Alarick found himself riding his horse in a forgotten part of Kalise- the poor, unkind part of the land.It was said that Kalise was a holy ground, where supposed gods have been killed and born, but despite being pleasantly warm most of the year, it’s soil wasn’t good for growing.Thorne was making suggestions though, about some places that could be salvaged.Alarick circled the camp one more time. He had groups of men protecting the abandoned villages after making themselves the plague against trolls and killing anything they found in their way, and they were making camp after the archers took care of a large batch by the forest most of the trolls were coming from.It would take some time, letting the trolls regroup and then following the trails, but Alarick felt calm.Fighting in Kalise feels like protecting Erriene, and wherever Erriene was at, that was Alarick’s territory.Those were the th