Sederan Tales

After the attack on Bertram, both prisoners had their arms tied down to some rings bolted to the floor. They were left enough slack to stand and eat, but not any more. The pairs that went to check in on them turned into trios, and they were treated with much more caution. This didn’t stop Bertram from bringing them provisions again that evening and the next morning.

By mid-afternoon the next day, Djinly decided another round of questioning was in order. She was accompanied by Bertram and Alenard, and hoped that Bertram’s presence wouldn’t incite the rage it had before in the Ardellian officer. Still, nobody knew more about Ardellian prisoners than Ardellian traitors.

They entered the house, walked down the hallway, and stopped at the door. Djinly briefly made eye contact with both Bertram and Niklos, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The officer’s eyes showed considerable restraint, although the rage was still visible beneath them. He stood poised, as if he expected to be attacked. The other soldier looked afraid yet again and had backed up against the wall.

Djinly and Alenard entered and leaned back against the wall. Bertram shut the door behind them. At once, the officer dashed at them. The piece of the floorboard that his constraining ring was bolted to flew forward. He had obviously spent the last day methodically breaking this portion of the floor off. The piece of board hit Alenard in the side of the head and he went down.

Read the rest of this entry »

“So you’re saying you don’t actually know what your group stands for,” Bertram said.

“No,” Alenard replied, “I’m just saying we’re not happy with the current state of things and we want to see some change.”

The two were seated around a derelict table in Djinly’s house. Niklos and Caelum quietly observed from across the room, mostly because they were still looking for some answers too. The arrival of the prisoners served to ease the tensions between Bertram and the others, but he immediately introduced some new tension by asking tricky questions about the resistance.

“Not being happy with things is not a cause,” Bertram said.

“But asking endless questions apparently is,” Alenard retorted.

“What’s going on?” Djinly asked, walking into the room.

“What does your group stand for?” Bertram asked as Alenard sighed.

“Well, we want to see the Ardellian occupation end,” she said. “And we’d like to see Sedera stand as its own nation again.”

“And do you have a plan for that?”

“That’s not for discussion,” Djinly said sharply. She walked and sat down in an old rickety chair in the corner of the room.

Read the rest of this entry »

The next few days were a jumble of training, questions, and history lessons with varying degrees of tension. Bertram quickly discovered how much pent-up anger Alenard had toward the Ardellian military and worked his best to diffuse it when he could. Granted, most of his anger was well-deserved; but it was not as focused or well-directed as Bertram felt it should have been.

At this moment, Alenard was sitting down at a quiet table in the Prince’s Gamble tavern, having a drink at Bertram’s request. He found that their most civil conversations took place over large tankards of ale. He was also exhausted after a long day of hard training. Though Alenard was nowhere near Bertram’s level of skill, he certainly matched him in endurance.

“So there’s really no defined moral code in Sederan religion?” Bertram asked.

Alenard laughed. “No, that’s not it—there are eight.”

“And you’re just free to choose whichever one you want?”

“Well, that depends on who you ask,” Alenard asking, setting his tankard down on the bar. “The goal is to be a strong soul. Strong souls get reused. Idle souls move onto Hell, a place of nothingness. But some people feel that their god’s ideology is inherently stronger than others. You can guess where that line of thought leads.”

“And you just sit down and talk about this?” Bertram said, taking a long swig of his ale.

Alenard shook his head. “No,” he said. “We fight about it all the time. Sometimes there are schisms, sometimes rebellions. But we always come back to the fact that all eight gods make us stronger as a nation and a culture. Even a Lyrenite has to admit that society is better for its Malechites.”

Bertram shook his head. “That’s far more progressive than I was taught,” he said. “The Ardellian people could all benefit from a few drinks with some Sederans.”

Read the rest of this entry »

“It’ll take about five days to reach Crater Lake,” Alenard said, pointing west at a crossroads in a densely wooded area where his group was stopped. “The trees will thin out once you get out of the these woods and there will be more towns.”

“And what’s your plan?” asked Katelain.

“We’ll reconnect with Djinly and fill her in on everything that’s happened,” Alenard responded.

“You’re sure you don’t need me here?” Petra asked.

Bertram shook his head. “We should be fine. Any questions I can’t answer can wait until you get back,” he said.

“Thank you,” Katelain said. She then turned to Petra. “And thank you, for coming with me.”

“I’ve been wanting to learn more about Sederan magic anyway, and I hear Crater Lake is the best place to do that,” he responded.

“We’ll meet up at the Prince’s Gamble in two weeks,” Alenard said.

“Alright,” Katelain said. “I’ll have Rex with me when I come back. See you in two weeks.”

Read the rest of this entry »

Katelain awoke to some minor commotion next to her. The sun had just risen, but Petra and Bertram were already up. Each had picked over the clothes from the attackers the night before and found something to wear over their distinctive Ardellian military outfits. They had also found a stream and filled a pot with water.

“Well,” Alenard said, “we’re all still alive. That’s step one toward a good partnership!”

“Petra, I have to know,” Katelain said, still slightly groggy. “Why do Ardellians hate Sederans so?”

Petra sighed. He did not turn to face her.

“Good morning, Katelain,” Bertram said patronizingly.

Read the rest of this entry »

The pair of former lieutenants stayed well outside of town until long after dark, their men gone ahead of them to deliver the bad news and gather up a few days’ worth of provisions. The hours were mostly silent as the weight of their decisions began to sink in. Two entire lives’ worth of aspirations, gone in a day.

After the moon had risen, they decided it would be safe to go and wait for their support—probably the last support they would see for some time. As they neared town, Bertram’s curiosity compelled him to speak.

“So what now?” Bertram asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Petra responded. “Lay low for a few days, maybe find a small town to start over.”

Bertram nodded silently. He hated not knowing where he was heading. He turned over various scenarios in his mind. He had always been a soldier, save for the time he was training to be one. He had no other trade. He was at a loss as all of the scenarios he constructed in his head ended badly.

Bertram sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders. “But what will we do?” he asked.

Read the rest of this entry »

The bloodied pair managed to reach the outskirts of town without being seen. Only after they stepped outside of town and paused underneath the last lamp post did they feel comfortable talking.

Katelain looked over at Alenard. “How did you—”

“A woman in armor practically invites me into her bed without any coaxing,” he answered. “I knew something was wrong. She kept asking me back to her room, but I convinced her to head to mine. You saw what happened after that.”

Katelain shook her head. “Of course they knew. It’s not like this was a covert operation. I suppose there was only so long it could go on.”

“Did we find anything of value?” Alenard asked, pulling out the pouches he had grabbed. “Looks like only coins in mine.”

“Anything of high importance would have been elsewhere, seeing as this was a trap,” Katelain said, pulling out what she had found on Boese. She opened a larger pouch to produce few documents, rolled tightly and tied together. They must have been directly related to the trap for him to be carrying them on him. Katelain carefully untied the scrolls and rolled out the documents. She studied the first page for a few moments before shifting through the rest of the pages.

“What is it?” Alenard asked.

“Dossiers, on both of us,” she said. “Looks like they knew you served the Deleons.”

Read the rest of this entry »

The Velveteen Satchel was just as busy as it had been two nights ago. Patrons were already beginning to show their drunkenness and more eyes were falling on Katelain and Alenard, who were seated at a table in the corner. Katelain had once again donned her black dress and Alenard’s lute was resting nonchalantly by his chair, which raised the intrigue (although their good looks certainly helped too).

One of the serving maidens stopped by their table with a faint smile on her face. She motioned behind her, to the makeshift stage area next to them. The pair got up and settled in quickly in the performance area. Katelain leaned back against the wall while Alenard began to weave a tapestry of notes and a haunting melody. The din of the tavern was reduced to a whisper in a few seconds.

Katelain scanned the bar looking for her mark. Immediately, she made eye contact with an intense-looking man in his late thirties. His light brown hair was cropped so short that Katelain could barely make out what color it was. The man was obviously very physically fit and knew action. A quick glance at his shirt revealed that it was actually a light brigandine plate, decorated in black and red. The mark, Boese, was a military official. This had to be him.

Boese stared right at Katelain in an unnerving sort of way. Not in the lustful way she was used to, but in a cold, harsh sort of way. She shuddered lightly and moved her gaze elsewhere.

Read the rest of this entry »

The Prince’s Gamble was already gearing up for a wild night, even though the sun was only just starting to set. The serving maidens had absent looks on their faces, mentally preparing for the onslaught that every night brought. A few travelers were eating early meals and sharing a few drinks, some holding close conversations, some laughing and joking loudly, and some trying not to be seen.

Katelain and Alenard sat at a table in the corner, facing the large room, with a large glass of mulled wine and a tankard of ale accordingly. Both sat in silence, sipping their drinks and observing the rest of the tavern. There had not been much talking since Alenard’s story earlier.

Katelain had always been slightly intimidated by the Prince’s Gamble. She had been an Omenian all her life, so she’d grown up studying death, but physical violence was a completely new—and terrifying—concept for her. She managed not to show any fear, of course. Every Omenian knew that fear was the first step toward giving in.

Read the rest of this entry »

The next morning, the dark-haired woman awoke as early as the sun had risen. She wiped her eyes and stretched her arms up in the air for a moment, but quickly, quietly climbed out of bed and reached for her over-sized satchel. She pulled out a simple black skirt and blouse and some rugged black leather boots and put them on. She then gathered up her belongings in her satchel and made a hasty exit without looking back.

She stepped across the hall and knocked quietly on the door across from hers. After a rather leisurely amount of time had passed, she heard some groggy footsteps coming toward the door. The door opened, revealing the troubadour from the night before, completely naked and not bothering to hide behind the door.

The woman rolled her eyes. “By Omenus, Alenard, do you have to do that? Don’t you know how to treat a lady?”

“I reckon you can ask her how I treat a lady,” Alenard said, pointing toward a young woman asleep in his bed.

The woman looked at the lady in Alenard’s bed. Her eyes got wide for a second, then she narrowed them and looked sternly at him. “This is not a game,” she scolded.

“Easy, Katelain,” Alenard said. “She was so drunk I doubt she remembers much from last night.”

“Well that’s a hefty risk to take!” Katelain said, putting her hand on her hip. At that, the woman in the bed stirred and moaned softly.

Alenard sighed and looked down at the floorboards. “Well, now you’ve done it,” he said before closing the door on her.

Read the rest of this entry »