Sederan Tales

“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.

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Niklos explained to Bertram how he had come to join the Sederan resistance and find Caelum. For being such a life-altering event, he used few words to describe it. Bertram still had questions about the resistance and its goals, but he was more curious to see what would become of the two prisoners.

Now, Bertram was sitting on a table, holding a cloth to the wound on his arm. Niklos had gone to join Djinly for the initial questioning of the soldiers, and Lenus had left to go back to the house for something, leaving Bertram and Caelum in awkward silence, as Bertram wanted to avoid another line of questioning like he’d gotten from Lenus earlier.

Bertram heard some muted voices through the wall, occasionally accented with one of the soldiers yelling something. Try as he might, he couldn’t make out the words that were being exchanged.

Lenus walked through the door holding a small leather pouch with a cap over a small opening.

“This is for you,” she said, handing the pouch to Bertram.

“Is this some sort of healing elixir?” he asked.

“Close,” Lenus said. “It’s red wine.”

“That’ll do,” Bertram said, opening and taking a swig of the wine.

Lenus laughed quietly. “It’ll dull the pain,” she said. “It’s the best I could do.”

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Bertram awoke to the sound of knocking on his cabin’s door. He had slept through the sunrise—something he never did. Days of long training followed by late nights of waiting for Djinly had finally taken their toll, however, despite his early night in.

He shuffled to the door, still a bit groggy, and opened it to see Lenus holding a small burlap sack. Her red hair was a bit tousled due to sleep and days on the road, but she had made some effort to tame it into a loose ponytail. She was wearing the same grey tunic she had worn the day before, and Bertram could see the faint outline of light armor underneath it. She also had both of her daggers strapped to her belt. Her appearance was an odd mixture of utility and class, which Bertram admired.

“Good morning,” Bertram said, smiling and leaning against the door frame.

“Djinly got caught up in some documents, but she wanted me to bring you this,” Lenus said, offering the burlap sack to him. “It’s breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Bertram said, taking the sack from her and peering inside. In it were some bread and cheese, and a flask of water.

“Djinly will probably be a little while, but she’ll be down here,” Lenus said, arms folded in front of her.

“Well, will you join me for breakfast?” Bertram asked.

Lenus opened her mouth and looked down at the ground. She took in a breath as if to speak, but didn’t. Bertram’s warm gaze turned to one of concern. Lenus looked back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Lenus said, “I just…”

“What is it?” Bertram asked.

“Were you one of the ones who attacked Amalia?” Lenus asked.

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Djinly sat in a dark corner of the Sly Vagrant tavern, quietly watching the night’s action wind down over her fifth glass of wine. A cloaked figure walked in and she quickly looked up at it. The figure pulled the cloak down to reveal a man’s face, no doubt a traveler out too late and eager to turn in for the night. Djinly averted her eyes to the crackling fireplace which was still going strong.

She began to think she was premature in sending Lenus in for the documents. She thought back to their first encounter in Amalia. Lenus was a scared girl peddling fine clothing to drunkards—a far cry from the fearless woman she needed to be. But still, Lenus had come so far in so few months. The ability to do meant less than the ability to learn quickly, and tenacity certainly counted for something.

Lenus strode in quickly, spotting Djinly before Djinly spotted her. Lenus marched up to her and put her hands down on the table she was sitting at, not bothering to sit down.

“Do you have the documents?” Djinly asked.

“No,” Lenus said, “they were probably burned, since we set the manor on fire, but—”

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Two guards dragged Lenus toward a dungeon cell, one holding each arm. She scowled, but her body remained mostly limp. She had given up on struggling for fear of being struck again. They had stripped her down to her undergarments and she didn’t want to provoke them to go any further.

They stopped at the door to a cell. A guard opened the door with a key and the other threw Lenus down against the cold stone floor. She landed hard with a yelp followed by a pained sigh. She was barely able to catch herself, and unable to prevent some sizable scrapes on her knees.

“We’ll deal with you in the morning,” one of the guards said.

Lenus stood up and violently clutched the cell bars, pressing her face against them. She stood, seething and glaring at the two guards as they disappeared up the stairs. After they had gone, she sat down on the cell floor with her back against the wall and pulled her knees up close to her.

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They had purchased a few pouches for water and food that wouldn’t spoil for a few days. Everything else they would need was back at Baldewyn’s house. They were on their way back to pick up their things, warn Baldewyn, and set out on the open road.

“It’s funny,” Caelum said, “I was so busy pining for my old life that I never really realized how much this started to feel like home.”

Niklos didn’t respond, not even by looking at Caelum. Caelum looked down at his feet, trudging through a good bit of snow. He knew he wouldn’t be able to grab much out of the house before leaving—he had mentally pared it down to one book, some clothes, and some various materials for enchanting.

“Do we even know where we’re going?” Caelum asked.

“We need to reconnect with Alenard,” Niklos said.

Caelum’s eyes widened slightly and he couldn’t stop himself from scoffing. “Never thought I’d hear you say that,” he said. “I thought you hated each other.”

“We do hate each other,” Niklos said, “but he’s our best connection to any sort of resistance. That is why he left, is it not?”

Caelum nodded. “He said he was going to head south to look for some group he had heard about. I can’t recall the name. That was a year ago.”

“So we have a direction,” Niklos said, “south.”

“That’s not much to go on,” Caelum said.

“But we have a direction,” Niklos said.

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Caelum walked carefully through the cold, barren woods near Redbrooke. Today was an exercise in defense, so he knew Niklos would try to attack him at some point in the day, although it had been nearly two hours without incident. He intentionally kept the creek on one side of him to narrow the angle of attack. Though it had been a week since the storm, the snow had not melted, giving Niklos a bit of an obstacle in surprising him.

For the first time in a long time, Caelum was actually looking forward to the day’s exercise. His magic studies had been going well—likely due to coming back to it with a fresh mind and a need for new applications. He imagined his old instructor shaking his head in disapproval. He actually laughed at the thought—something he thought he would never do.

Then, he heard it: the light crunch of snow behind him. In an instant, he had drawn his sword and turned around to defend himself. Niklos took a swing at him, which he quickly parried. Niklos was unfazed by this and quickly took a stab at Caelum. Caelum parried and quickly grabbed the hilt of Niklos’s sword. There was a brief flash of light and Niklos’s blade began to glow with a blinding light.

Caelum seized the brief moment of surprise that this bought him and quickly brought his blade up to Niklos’s neck. Niklos moved his widened eyes from his glowing blade to meet Caelum’s. Caelum was grinning slyly.

“What did you do to my sword?” Niklos asked.

“I gave it the Nomian enchantment that we use to light up city streets at night,” he said. “It took me all week to figure out how to do that through gloves.”

Niklos thought about this for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgement. “Well done,” he said. The words were bitter, but sounded sweet to Caelum. “I guess I won’t be surprising you any time soon. How long will my sword glow?”

“Not long,” Caelum said, “maybe an hour. If it was copper, that’s another story.”

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The snow fell harshly, accentuated by a bitter wind, greying out the sky and surroundings, making it seem like the snowy field was the only thing in existence. The snow had completely covered the ground, removing any signs of civilization, although the occasional fence post was visible at times when the wind was just right.

In the harsh weather, a proud lion of a man stood with his hands behind his back. His torso was covered in large animal furs, which covered some rugged gray clothing. His beard was a deep brown, although his short hair was starting to show its grays.

He squinted as the wind and snow whipped past his face. He stood completely still, as if waiting for something, although he looked ready for anything.

Suddenly, a younger man dashed out of the gray straight toward the standing man, sword raised and ready for a strike. The older man quickly drew his own sword and met his attacker’s blade. The clash was heard over the roar of the winter gale, but it was over as soon as it had sounded. The attacker wisely jumped back to contemplate his next move, but then raised his sword and took a hard swing at the older man.

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