One Moo'r Plow - Book 2: Chapter 39: Domain IV.
The bleak fortress of Castle Ironmoor appeared just as hostile as when I had last journeyed into its depths. A dark specter of stone cloaked by the dim sun and thick clouds above. Heavy as my cloak was, I tightened it just a bit harder and hunched forward as the cart rumbled below.
Winter marched ever closer, the prolonged summer seasons slowly fading into a chilly autumn. If it was the coming cold that made me shiver or my proximity to Valencia, I could not reckon. Likely the latter.
The dreadknight sat not far from me, turned back to watch the prisoners. Her presence instilled an unease, a sense of dread that made the horses difficult to control. Four were needed to pull the cart’s heavy load, lathered in sweat and driven on up the incline towards the Baron’s fortress.
Although an ambush would be foolish on us of all people, and so close to the iron-home, I kept my great-spear tight in hand. A massive weapon I had seldom used in favor of the claymore. Plain wood reinforced by invisible enchantments tipped with dark steel. Two wings in the spear-socket behind the blade revealed its intent to kill monsters as well as lesser foes.
There was little time spent idling before the great gate, I found. A watcher peered over the wall, sighted Valencia smiling up at him and shouted for the way to be opened. Dust rose as we rumbled inside, greeted by a formation of guards.
Men and women that deferred to the dreadknight.
“Welcome, Justicar.”
A captain bowed his head as the dark figure stepped from the cart, his presence only briefly acknowledged.
“Get me Londer.” She commanded. “I have a gift for him.”
This was obeyed with haste and without complaint. No one such as moved to see who was in the cart as we stood and waited. In fact, none of them moved at all. They remained stock-still, previous orders rendered null by Valencia’s presence.
A facet the baron was less than pleased by. They scattered back to posts unattended once he came into view and barked their orders, a baleful look thrown at us. A sentiment that did not long remain once Valencia stepped from behind the cart.
“And finally, when I had need of you, you have returned.”
There was almost a..warmth in the man’s voice.
“And I come with gifts in hand.” She returned.
“Garek.” He nodded to me in greeting. “I’d hoped not to see you for some time. Your presence always brings news, good or bad. Now is not the time for excitement.”
Perhaps I expected him to be a little harsher, but there remained politeness on his face as he turned to Ishila.
“And this young lady? A companion of yours?”
Her nervousness well-surpessed -at least visibility- the lass stepped forward and bowed ever so slightly.
“Ishila, your lordship.” She spoke. “Just a farmhand.”
“A farmhand that survived the dungeon’s awakening, so I’ve heard.”
Ah. That inconvenient secret which had slipped loose. I tensed myself for trouble, but it never came.
“Another, more foolish man might attempt to exact wrath for the trouble that has caused me. I say; let the past remain so.” His tone was neutral now, friendliness sapped from it. “What troubles have you brought to my doorstep today?”
“Sickness.” Valencia spoke as the two approached the cart. “Symptoms of a rot in your lands, Londer. Gods Below willing, they may yet be put to use.”
If there remained little warmth in the man before this, it was gone now.
“Speak not such blasphemy in my walls, woman.” His tone was cold as winter ice. “I’ll not have wrath and wroth brought down on me and mine. We honor the Gods Above in this home, not your fiends.”
“Fiends you’ve made deals with before, Baron. There is no such thing as a short memory among those that lurk below.”
“Enough of this devilry. Show me why you have come to me.”
And with that, the exchange was over. The baron peered over the cart’s edge, his already scowling expression now turned to one of distaste.
“Elith’s spies. I’d thought her smart enough to stop sending them.”
Now, I stepped forward.
“They infiltrated my farm. Posed as workers and wormed their way into my trust.”
“A problem for you, then.”
“Mayhaps,” I shrugged. “But they sought more than just eyes to observe me. One offered me an alliance with the queen.”
The silence was as stone now. Dense and heavy with anticipation.
“You’d not be fool enough to accept it and then tell me of it, so get on with it.”
“I refused.”
“And then brought them here for my favor?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Truth be told, I had wanted to not pick a side in this conflict. Same as you regard my problems as my own, so I did in return. But they came to my home, manipulated my trust, tried to sway me to their needs. The decision was forced upon me, and I have made it.”
“Forced between me and the girl Elith.” He pondered, eyes never leaving the tied and gagged forms of the queen’s spies. “She is less wrathful than I, that much I promise.”
“And so, we are here.” I rumbled, arms crossed. “As the lord of these lands, the spies from your enemies have been given over to you. Do as you want with them.”
Muffled pleas came from the captives as soldiers hauled them from the wagon. I knew deep within that it was Tash. The friendly beastmaster that had found a sliver of my friendship. But my heart had grown hard, and I ignored what he spoke as steel-clad men dragged him off.
“You’ve given me tools,” Ironmoor noted. “Lives to bargain against the queen if she makes any overt advances.”
This I acknowledged.
“You seem intent on working your way into my good graces.” He sighed. “Come then. Inside, where we can speak about what is to come.
Once more I passed through the myriad defenses and legions of soldiers at the ready. How much gold was being expanded to keep this army standing at the ready? Soldiers required wages, homes, entertainment and much more. Ironmoor seemed content to supply the coin for all that and keep his forces prepared for whatever threat was to come. Once again, I briefly wondered what Class and level the baron was at. Were his skills specialized in warfare, direct combat or maintaining his state? Perhaps all three, for all that I knew.
Such information was guarded jealously, as I had come to learn.
Once more I entered the hall meant to entertain the baron’s guests, and found the Lady Ironmoor within.
Her smile blossomed, then abruptly faded as she sighted Valencia. Her usual cheery features vanished, replaced by a visceral shudder as the dreadknight acknowledged her presence.
“You’re back.” No emotion, just a flat statement.
“Don’t fret now, it won’t be for long.” She threw back, almost a taunt.
Despite her unease, the Lady Ironmoor proved a gracious host to almost everyone, save the dreadknight. We were seated, tea brought forth, and then left undisturbed save for the guards posted at every door.
“I have a notion to change your mind on that, Valencia.” The baron spoke once his wife had left. “Now more than ever, I need you at my side. They fear me, and you are the reason so. With you gone, they smell weakness. The brazen ones circle for an opening, ready to march in and begin to peck away.”
By they, I assumed his enemies.
“And when they do, you will teach them the harshest lessons of all.” Valencia sighed. “We’ve done this song and dance with them before. Memories must be renewed. Rains will weap over burnt halls and razed lands once this is all through.”
“So?” He queried.
“Destiny guides me elsewhere.” Was the simple reply. “Your foes are no challenge for me to tread underfoot. They will come and be crushed. The only matter is the price that will be paid.”
“You view this too simply.”
“Perhaps. But it is my fight no longer. Another awaits me now.”
A feeling that the baron was not a man who liked being told ‘no’ was truly set within me.
“Have you not had your fill of killing minotaurs yet?” He grumbled. “You’ve all but drowned in their blood so far.”
“These are different. Godtouched lead them.”
“Something that would give pause to any sane, reasonable person.”
“Not her.” I interjected.
“Not I.” Valencia agreed. “If the Gods Above do not find me worthy after I brought low the Godling, I will prove it once more to other Gods.”
“Speak not of this.” The baron warned, his tone low and dangerous.
Valencia looked him dead in the eyes and continued.
“If they refuse to grant me their gifts, after all I have done, then I will extinguish their lights and receive power elsewhere.”
Thunder shook the hall as she spoke. Then again. The chandelier above swung, sturdy chains keeping it aloft as the light flickered. Only torches lit the halls now, the clouds outside so chokingly thick that it seemed almost dust.
“You may follow this path at your own peril,” Londer Ironmoor spoke, face tight and anger in his tone. “But not at mine. Cease.”
To my great surprise, she obeyed. The dreadknight slid back in her seat, defiant twinkle in her eyes as I looked about. The Gods were real, I knew. Yet I had never seen them this present. And I wanted little to do with it.
“The warherd will be ruinous for your lands.” This was my attempt to strategically change the subject. “They will march across the border and right for my land.”
“I am aware.” The baron grimaced. “But my forces are spread too thin to stop them at the pass. They will try, but they will fall, I fear.”
“Your men need not die.” Ishila spoke up. “Withdaw ‘em and let them march through uncontested. One way or another, that herd is gettin’ through.”
“They are there to protect the people behind them, girl. The hamlets and farms and villages that all sit between you and the border. If I withdraw my men, they will be butchered at will. Have you seen what a warherd does when they are out to conquer?”
“Withdraw them too.” I offered. “Empty the land. The growing season is at its end.”
“Harvest is upon us.” The baron spoke, voice cold. “The crops must be taken from the fields to feed the people before winter comes. To drive them all from their homes would be disastrous for the peasants.”
The man did care about his people. Stern and harsh as he was, I had noticed time and time again that his decisions kept the survival of his vassals in mind.
“I counter you this, Garek; Instead of waiting at your farm, go to meet this force at Greysong Keep. You’ve built a mighty wall around your home in preparation, yes. But you yourself know this; when has a wall ever stopped a minotaur?”
This froze me for a moment. The man was correct. Even before I had gotten this new class and powerful skills, I had burst through the walls of Hullbretch with strength alone. My walls may as well be butter before an entire herd.
“I will send riders to the castle there to let them know of your coming. Wait not for your enemy to come to you, but face them on your terms.
It all made sense. It really did. The warherd showing up at my doorstep would be absolutely ruinous whether or not I survived. Now, I was offered another way. One that would benefit both myself and the baron, of course. Even if I died, the mass of minotaurs would have gotten what they wanted and might turn back.
That was, of course, if I died. I had no plans to.
