Niaz is a character who features in The Death Witch (working title). He’s a royal administrator, the equivalent of a Lord Chamberlain in western feudal households. This was generated with the Cheyenne model. This image is circa 18030 (elven calendar).
An excerpt from the scroll ‘The Mysterious Alagariel’ (volume III) by Thyus Saeedi, Court Historian to Jahan II, Shah of Susahnia, written circa 17850.
Though scholars know almost nothing of the coronation of Queen Alagariel, it is central to the history of Vatan and therefore ought to be scrutinised. Everyone born in Taldyr, be they humans, elves or dwarves grow up with tales of Alagariel’s victory over ‘evil’; whatever that may be. Whether she existed or not, or whether any of it actually happened is not greatly relevant to the influence her tale has had on Taldyr’s history.
Despite that, I remain most interested how much of Alagariel’s tale is based in historical fact. Sadly, I was born to the wrong species to have full access to all scholarly works that may exist on the subject. While the elves have not made any special effort to thwart my investigations, very few of them have been interested in helping me navigate their archives. Mostly they do not ever bother to suggest where I might continue my search, as if they are counting on my shorter lifespan to thwart my efforts to make significant progress. The elves seem to be engaged in a process of obfuscation through delay that has been most frustrating during my life. In that light, I have made certain that this document will only be published after my death.
Unfortunately, I need what few elves have been forthcoming greatly and it will not help my subject of study if I alienate them. That said, scholars should be aware that I feel obliged to conclude that the elves do make an effort to keep the actual historical details of Queen Alagariel as murky as possible. Despite many decades devoted to studying thia subject, I have never discovered why they are so reticent to allow access to their libraries.
Having made that as clear as possible, I will continue with the substance of my investigation. The logical place to start, in the sense that it is probably the least controversial historical event, is, in my opinion, the Crowning of Alagariel. To begin with, we should look at the dating of this event. Logically, this would be in year one of the elven calendar. Even this is problematic however, unless she was crowned on the 1st of Wittenarde. If she was crowned later in the year, what year number did the rest of the year have? It is the same problem as the Selinan Kings have with their dating system of course, but it bears mentioning that even this is not known for certain.
I would propose, that the elven Bailiu, the day they traditionally confirm their High Kings and Queens is a strong clue that she too was crowned on that day of the year, which we humans call the 29th of Kaldmeer. This date is only present evert fourth year, of course. This is, predicated on the presumption that we have been using the same calendar for near to twenty millennia. On this point, the elves are more forthcoming, claiming that this much, at least, is certain.
So, what else can be said with any degree of certainty about her coronation? From elven sources, it seems likely that she was active for a long time – even in elven terms – before her coronation. We are speaking of centuries and a single elven bundle of poetry I have studied even suggests a number of three millennia. This is unlikely to be true as she is said to have passed on on 1st of Languise 1201. Twelve hundred years is already a respectable age for an elf, even a fire elf, let alone that she was 4200 years old. It can not be wholly discounted of course as she was also claimed to be a great Magister, but 4200 years certainly seems to be pushing credibility, even for a sorceress of her purported might. She was presumably extraordinary enough, in some way at least, to inspire us to still speak of her twenty millinnia later, but there is no real evidence to suggest that the story we tell of her is literal truth.
What more do we know? The location of her Coronation is also not unequivocally clear from ancient writings. It does not help that Taldyr’s geography was substantially different twenty thousand years ago, with different sea levels and drainage patterns. I have found references to ‘Difayakwininos’ spelled in a multitude of different ways, which translates to ‘The House of the Queen’ from an obscure elven dialect. It means little, though it was used to refer specifically to the region in the vicinity of what is now probably the Westmarch or Sheffield. This too is unlikely as the Kingdom of Fire itself is not terribly far from there and that is surely a more likely location for the Coronation to have taken place. It’s more likely that another Queen had holdings in or around that area and the two are unrelated.
What then, can we learn of this influential and mysterious historical figure’s Coronation? Sadly the answer is ‘not much’, but the simplest explanation is that there was a High Queen of the Elves named Alagariel I and that she was a Magister and that she lived a very long life. If she was active, for instance for three centuries before her Coronation, she passed on at the staggering age of 1500, give or take a few years. Presumably she was Crowned somewhere in the Land of Fire and it’s also likely she was very important in some way, since whatever Monarchs preceded her have been lost to history. Perhaps, she was a great unifier, as my lord’s esteemed ancestor Shahan the First was for the tribes surrounding what is now Greater Susahnia. All these things are the most logical explanations for her reign and seem a sensible set of working assumptions in the absence of more specific historical works and scholarship.
These, admittedly rather sparse, conclusions are the only things which I feel are certain or logical enough to use as a basis for my further research. It is not much, but it may be enough to bring some logical context to other, even more poorly described, events that too place in Alagariel’s time.
Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
They came to a large derelict house on the edge of the village. It had been mostly constructed of stone, which was still a luxury in Thetwick. It was overgrown with vines and moss. A part of the thatched roof had collapsed, exposing some of the rafters. It had once been quite lavish by Thetwick’s standards. Ala had seen it before of course, but hadn’t really paid it much attention after she had clambered around inside it once or twice, many years before. She hadn’t found anything of interest then. There were several derelict buildings in and around Thetwick and this one had never seemed particularly special, aside from its construction. It was certainly one of the larger ones, as homes went, but it didn’t stand out because there were also some abandoned barns that were even bigger. Nothing else had ever seemed special about it.
Ala remembered that it used to have fields all around it, but new dwellings had been built between it and the centre of Thetwick so that it was now almost a part of the town proper. It had its own courtyard, well and even a small stable building. She remembered that an old man had lived here once. He had died decades before, not all that long after Bernard had left for the Regiment, she realised. The old man’s other son had lived there for a time too, she thought. She wasn’t completely certain what had happened to him.
Bernard stopped in front of the place and crossed his arms over his chest. After looking at it for a few moments, he spoke.
“Ala? Do you remember? This was my father’s house… then my brother’s till he died. Not that old Reggie ever did much with it, that I heard. He always was a bit of a layabout,” said Bernard, frowning.
He shook his head for a moment before continuing. Ala wasn’t sure whether he was speaking for her benefit or his own.
“Home sweet home… that’s what they say, isn’t it? I never really expected to see this place again, but thanks to the Duke, here we are. Back in good old Thet.” He took a deep breath before he continued, now clearly speaking to Ala, “here, you take Rico’s reins while I take a look what we’re up against.”
He stepped forward and heaved the door open, which was still seated in rusty hinges despite most of the bottom half having rotted away. He looked around inside as the boys, chests and Ala waited on the track outside, glancing uneasily at one another. Ala edged over to the doorway with the horse following her and heard him sighing deeply before he called out.
“You lot may as well come in. Unload the things from Rico and then, Ala, take Rico round the back. See if the stable is serviceable. You boys, bring my chests and things in here.”
Ala led the horse round and tied him off, whispering a calming word in elven causing Rico to look at her with interest. She saw that there were two large stalls, though they would need repairs and a thorough cleaning out. Back inside the house, there were remnants of furniture and a stone floor in the main room, which she reached through an area that was probably once a storage room. The hearth and chimney still looked serviceable, though there were some big holes in the roof where the thatch was missing. Bernard had disappeared into one of the other rooms. As Ala came in to the main room, the boys were busy manhandling the bundles and chests inside one by one.
Bernard returned from his exploration and issued his commands, telling the boys where to set everything. Ala could tell he was accustomed to getting things organised and setting tasks.
He looked at her and spoke, “looks like a bit of work to do, doesn’t it? It’s not too bad I think. Beams don’t look rotten or nothin’.”
That seemed to satisfy him as he walked around, examining the ceiling slowly nodding to himself. Ala really didn’t know why he was explaining it to her, most people avoided talking to her. Bernard was distracted by the boys dragging in the next chests.
“You bunch, put those, let’s see, over there, away from that hole in the roof. When you’ve done that, you, with the ginger hair, go and fetch the carpenter. Tell him I’m going to need a roof. Tell him that I want him to start today and that I have silver. He should bring some things to fix the roof temporarily at once. Some hides or something. Go on.”
The boy nodded and rushed out of the door.
“I guess you other three might as well make some more money and start clearing the floor. Take the debris out front. Ala, I take it you wouldn’t mind a bit of silver either? How about you check the well? If it still has any water in it, you can grab a pot from that chest, and a line, and we can get a bit of a fire going for some tea. That always makes a place more like home. Rico will be wanting some water too I imagine. Think you can manage that?”
She nodded, pleased to have another chore.
The place became a hive of activity as Bernard wasted no time putting his house in order. The carpenter arrived and was swiftly given a down payment and instructions to fix the roof, starting with some temporary planking and hides to close the hole for the time being. It wasn’t long after that that the village Constable arrived.
The Constable, Roger Marchmain, was the Duke’s official officer in Thetwick. He was appointed both to enforce the Duke’s Peace in the region and collect taxes. Collecting taxes he took very seriously, less so enforcing the peace. In fact, Ala thought he probably caused more breaches of the peace than he solved. He was a sour faced man, though he was only in his thirties. He was hated by most of the villagers. It was whispered that young children should be careful not to be caught alone with him and that he extorted money and muddled the taxes he collected when he thought he could get away with it. Ala had been around long enough that she knew the rumours to be true and more besides. He was a gaunt man with a red sheen on his nose and cheeks from too much wine and ale. He came up to the open door.
“You there, stranger,” he hissed, “who are you? What are you doing here? Explain yourself!”
Bernard looked around, taking note of the Constables badge of rank, an emblem the man wore on the left of his chest, before answering.
“My name is Bernard. This was my father’s house, now mine. I will be living here for the time being. I take it you are the Constable?”
“I am, and you may not bear arms under the Duke’s Peace! Surrender your weapons at once!”
“Actually, I think I remember you from before I left. Some things don’t change it seems. I’ll remember what your name was eventually, I’m sure. Anyway, I do have right of arms and more besides. Here, I’ll show you.”
Bernard had a leather scroll tube attached to the side of his bag, he opened it and selected one of the parchments and rolled it out. It looked very official to Ala, with a large wax seal on the bottom. He turned the document towards the constable. The man displayed the look Ala had learned to associate with people who had trouble reading. She knew the Constable had been to school, at least for a while, at the Temple of Ceres, but many of the attendees never needed to read in day to day life and consequently hardly could by the time they reached adulthood.
“I will take this with me and have it verified. In the meantime, you will need to relinquish your arms.”
“I don’t think so, Constable. One of these lads can go fetch the scribe right now.” He pointed at one of the boys, “you there, go fetch him. Now!”
As the lad ran off, Ala whispered that she could read, but she was ignored. Bernard glanced in her direction though and made a small gesture that clearly meant that she should leave it. He’d obviously heard her, though. Ala knew the Constable disliked half-elves, she’d been violently pushed out of the way by him before, usually accompanied by vicious slurs about her heritage. The Constable seemed enamoured of the alliteration of calling her a “stupid stinking half elf” whenever he remembered to. Bernard gave her a look which she could only really interpret to mean that she shouldn’t worry. He didn’t take his eyes off the Constable for more than a second though.
“Lay down your weapons, or I will declare you an outlaw!”
“It’s not going to happen Constable. I should mention that I have another document from the Duke here, authorising me to check up on your accounts. It seems the taxes have been coming up… irregular for quite a time. It’s one of the several of the Duke’s orders I will be executing while I am here.”
Ala knew that the Constable generally brought some muscle if there was anything physical to be done. Usually that meant roughing up some unfortunate villager. Without his enforcers, she sensed the man backing down.
The man scowled, “all right then, we’ll wait for the scribe.”
The scribe arrived after a tense eternity. The small man carefully studied Bernard’s document and the Duke’s seal on it.
“This is indeed a document bearing the Duke’s seal and signature that this man, Bernard of Thetwick, who is an honourably discharged Sergeant-Major-at-Arms of the Duke’s Regiment, has not only the right to bear arms in perpetuity, but may grant that right to others if he sees fit to do so, with the Duke’s blessing. It can only be rescinded by the Duke or his inheritors in person.”
“How can you be sure this document isn’t a forgery?”
The scribe shrugged.
“It has all the markings that we expect from the Duke. It is legitimate in my opinion. Whether this man is indeed Bernard of Thetwick, however, I have no idea.”
Ala spoke up then, more loudly than she had intended, “I do,” she said. Feeling self-conscious, she continued, “I knew him when he left Thetwick. This is Bernard Alanson, who used to live in this house with his father, Alan Ferdinandson and his brother, Reginald. He went to the Duke’s Regiment when he was twelve or thirteen. I remember him.”
The scribe looked a little surprised that Ala had spoken up, looking at her with a serious expression. He shrugged again.
“Alan’s son eh? I remember him too, come to think of it. Well that’s good enough for me. The strange half-child’s longevity certainly qualifies her to speak on this matter, if nothing else. It has also jogged my memory. The matter of identity is settled, insofar as I can say anything about it.”
This clearly annoyed the Constable, who turned to leave with a scowl. He didn’t have much choice, especially without his bullies to back him up. Ala had little doubt who would prevail in a physical confrontation between Bernard and Roger Marchmain. The Constable left looking even more sour than usual. Ala enjoyed it a lot. Not many people got one up on the Constable, who stormed off, red-faced. The scribe bid a formal goodbye and departed as well.
Ala made the fire, somehow anxious to make a good impression on Bernard. Her heart was still beating rapidly after the tense moments with the Constable. She used the trick she knew which she had never even dared to tell anyone about, even Palady or Aubree. Things burned when she wanted them to, including the air, if she concentrated. Flames, cold and heat also didn’t bother her much, she’d noticed. She had a fierce blaze going in seconds. She looked round worried she had overdone it and she did see Bernard looking quizzically at the size of the fire, rubbing his temple with his hand.
“That’s quite some fire, lass. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a fire be made quite so rapidly… well it’s an important skill, could have used you on campaign. Don’t burn the place down though.”
He smiled warmly at her as he said it, though.
“Yes Bernard.”
She said and quickly put the pot of water on the fire, feeling herself blushing.
“I’ll go and see to Rico…”
She rushed out to escape Bernard’s curious looks.
Things calmed down after a procession of workmen arrived and began repairs. They started off by removing anything that could no longer be used. Bernard obviously had coin to spend and he sent her down to the town centre to purchase some ingredients for a stew as well as some less perishable supplies and horse feed. There were plenty of stalls and peasants out selling things whenever a caravan was in town. She also managed to exchange a few more sentences with Rosamund even although the young woman was still busy trading.
“Oh, hey Ala. Still busy I’m afraid.”
“Sorry to bother you… could I ask one question?”
“Alright.”
“That warrior who was travelling with you… do you know anything about him?”
“Bernard? Uhmm, not really. We’re obligated to take the Duke’s passengers, he’s one of them. Paid though he didn’t have to. Said he was originally from here. Why?”
“I was just curious, I was talking to him… and well… he seems to know my… aunt.”
“Well, he seemed a nice enough bloke. I bet he’s a veteran soldier. No idea why the Duke sent him here.”
“But the Duke did send him?”
“The Duke has to sign an order to transport passengers who have to be listed by name, so I’m fairly sure he did. Oh, here comes my next appointment. I have to run.”
“Thank you!”
Ala finished her shopping and hurried back to Aubree’s house. Bernard had also asked her to go by her house and ask Aubree to join him for the meal, too. When she went home, Aubree asked her lots of questions. She seemed a little suspicious, but also intrigued.
“You’re sure? His name is Bernard? He’s retired from the Duke’s Regiment?”
“Of course I’m sure, Aubree… I’m not dense. I did ask him. Bernard Alanson. I remember him from when he was little. I also checked with the caravaneers, they’re certain he was sent by the Duke, too.”
“Sent by the Duke? Truly? I’m sorry Ala. I’m not doubting you. It’s just unexpected is all. I didn’t think he would ever come back.”
Aubree was thoughtful for a moment. Tucking her momentary irritation away, Ala thought she saw a twinge of a smile on Aubree’s woman’s face just before she spoke again, “well, certainly someone I never expected to see again… and now asking me to dinner, out of the blue.” Aubree’s smiled grew wider, as if she’d decided she liked the idea.
“You knew him?”
“I did. He… was a friend. My best friend, really.”
Aubree was clearly considering the invitation. Ala had expected her to turn it down out of hand, like she’d done with numerous suitors over the years. What history was there between Bernard and Aubree she wondered? After a moment, Aubree nodded and spoke with the same smile, “alright, go and tell him I’ll be along shortly. It’ll be good to talk to him, at least, I think.”
Having a lot of time on her hands Ala had become as good as cook as she could. Not that there was a massive variety of things to learn in Thetwick, the ingredients available were limited and often the same, but it was still possible to make it tasty with a little effort and by adding herbs. She had learned a little about herbs from the healers that travelled to the village from time to time. When she was out in the forest she would gather plants that were common to the Westmarch and then trade them for more exotic spices with passing caravans, which helped to make her cooking a little more varied than the norm.
She walked back to Bernard’s house, which now had some temporary repairs. Hides and planking were tied over the roof to cover the holes and make it watertight. She made her way to the door and knocked on it, for propriety’s sake.
“Ah Ala, come in. Did you speak to Aubree?”
“I did. She accepts the invitation.”
“Truly? Very good,” Bernard was smiling too. No, he was beaming, she decided. Whatever had gone on between him and Aubree decades ago certainly included some very good memories.
“I’ll just start sorting out some dinner,” Ala said. “The longer we can let it simmer, the better.”
Bernard gestured for her to go ahead and she got started, it was a simple recipe but she had learned that frying a lot of the ingredients before putting it all in the pot together improved the taste considerably. After she had set it to simmer, she looked after Bernard’s horse. Bernard was directing the boys doing something that clearly required teamwork and shouting. She grabbed some wooden bowls and tin cups from the chest and noticed more weapons beneath. Next she added some more wood onto the fire and quietly intensified the fire’s heat to make sure the new logs hardly smoked.
“Ala… that’s uncanny. I’ve never seen anything like that before… is that something all… err… half-elves can do?”
She jumped. People generally didn’t manage to sneak up on her and she had assumed she would notice anyone approaching. Bernard had seen her manipulating the fire. It was the first time anyone had ever caught her.
“Please.. please don’t tell anyone!” she cried. She knew what the people thought of witches. She could only imagine what they might do to a half-elven one.
“No reason for alarm young lass. I’ve been around. Seen a few things. Not exactly that, if I’m honest, but I’m not as easily perturbed as folk around here. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Really. I won’t.”
“Please don’t!”
“Ala, I said I promise to keep it to myself. I meant it. Who else knows? Aubree?”
“No, no, I haven’t told anyone… ever, they all think I’m strange enough as it is…”
“Not even Aubree?”
“No! It would only worry her!”
“Is that… a normal skill… for your people?”
“I don’t know any other half-elves… sir…”
“Oh yes. Of course, how could I forget? Alright, alright…. calm down. It will be our secret. As long as you don’t call me ‘sir’ any more…” he looked over to the simmering stew.
“Looks like you know your cooking too. Smells good!” It broke the tension.
“Is that… alright?”
“More than alright, hope it’s ready soon. Reminds me I’m going to be needing a housekeeper. Interested?”
“Everyone says I’m too young to be a servant.”
“You’re older than I am. You make excellent, completely smokeless, fires and you can do it in seconds. Looks like you can cook. You know horses and hunting. You’ve done all the schooling Thetwick has. Not sure what more I could ask for by way of qualifications?”
“I’ll have to ask Aubree. She needs some taking care of too.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’m not a very good cook. You help me out. I’ll teach you a thing or two about sword fighting… if you want, of course.”
She looked up at him, wondering if he was serious. He certainly looked it. She grabbed her chance.
“Agreed,” she said, quickly and forcefully, before he could change his mind. Bernard looked at her, taken aback by how forcefully she had spoken.
“What happened to asking Aubree?”
She just shrugged.
“As you said, I’m older than she is. By lots. I think she’s the only person in the village who ever stopped to realise it. She won’t try to stop me if it’s something I really want.”
“You’re really serious about this?”
She nodded, “yes. Very much so.”
When Aubree arrived it was obvious she and Bernard were old friends… perhaps more than friends, Ala wondered? Why hadn’t she noticed anything when Bernard was a boy? The two of them immediately launched into chatting about events and people, things that had happened thirty or forty years ago. Ala was a little disconcerted to notice that her memory of that time was a lot clearer than theirs. She could easily help them when their memories failed. It made things awkward again though, making it clear just how old she was again. She decided it might be better not to interject any more and focused on the stew even though it was doing just fine without her help.
People regularly seemed to forget how old she actually was, even Aubree. It seemed that it was easiest for people to act as if she was just what she looked like, a child in her teens. That usually worked right up until she felt comfortable and accidentally reminded them that she was different. She had decided long ago that she should avoid emphasising her age, but it was hard, especially if she was feeling comfortable around people. Once again, she decided it was better to keep her mouth shut.
Bernard spoke a little about his career with the Duke’s Regiment, but he didn’t go into much detail. He mentioned a few experiences during his training and said he’d been on campaign many times, but he didn’t elaborate on any particular thing that had happened while he was at war. It was clear he had seen a lot of action while serving under the Duke’s banner though. The rank he had attained was the most senior rank that someone with such common heritage could expect to achieve. Being assigned as Captain of a Militia in a border region like the Westmarch said a great deal about the trust the Duke placed in the man. Being a Captain of anything would normally be well beyond the possibilities of someone of Bernard’s simple heritage.
Ala served them each a bowl of stew with a chunk of bread. It was a treat for her and Aubree, they could only rarely afford more meat than needed for a broth. What she brought in by hunting they often traded away since they could get so much more for a fresh rabbit than if they ate it themselves. Bernard liked mutton, and he’d wanted her to put generous amounts of it into the stew.
“You make a fine stew, Ala. I think I may be getting a bargain,” Bernard said.
Aubree looked at Ala with a frown, homing in instantly.
“What bargain?”
Ala hoped that Bernard wouldn’t mention the sword fighting lessons… not straight away anyway.
“Oh, I’ve asked if Ala will help with some housekeeping… don’t worry, I’ll compensate her fairly.”
That seemed to satisfy Aubree, who changed the subject.
“Ala is a very good cook, best in the village, I’d bet. She’s had a lot of time to learn, I suppose. Actually there aren’t many things you can learn in Thetwick that she isn’t very good at. Weaving, knitting, spinning, embroidery, fishing, horses… especially horses and many, many other things besides. She knows her herbs too and can read and write very well.” Aubree said, clearly proud. “She even knows sums. She’s put all those extra years to good use, I’d say.”
Bernard looked impressed, “that she has.”
Ala had never realised Aubree had noticed and beamed.
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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Thirty years later, Aubree was in her fifties. She had never remarried after losing her husband. Ala had gently suggested some possible candidates, but Aubree had never taken any interest. Together, they lived quietly together in the same small wooden house that Aubree had invited Ala to join her in three decades before. They were not wealthy but they managed to get by. The house was drafty and it wasn’t in terribly good condition, but they managed to keep the main room warm in winter, in no small part due to Ala’s gift. She never let Aubree notice that she was using her fire magic to make the hearth burn brighter and longer. Ala had accrued quite a collection of skills that allowed them to get or make plenty of things that they could barter. Some things they could even sell for a little coin. Thetwick had grown to a size that should properly be called a town, though it didn’t posses a Ducal charter or the fortified walls that a proper town had. It did have a regular market, the only one in the whole of the Westmarch, which offered them a place to sell their excesses.
In 944, a crier came on a caravan. Crier was a big word, usually it was a job done by entertainers and story tellers, hoping to catch some coin for their trouble. There was a Guild of Criers, though and proclaiming the news without being able to display the guild’s symbol wasn’t likely to bring you any coin. The main the thing the Crier’s guild stood for, was the accuracy of the information being presented. This crier visited Thetwick a few times a year, he was a grizzled old man, with a limp. He wore the Crier’s Guild emblem on a chain round his neck, though he was only an apprentice. He had been discharged from the Duke’s regiment early because of his leg, Ala had heard. She’d gone to see what the caravan had brought, so she was close when he took his place in the middle of the market, climbing onto a stone pedestal that stood there for the purpose. She always stopped to listen to the crier, if she could, she often learned something new, at least, though not necessarily something useful.
“People of the Westmarch! Honoured Thets! I bring news today, of Taladaria, of Verdon and Sheffield. There is even word from far Erythrae! Most importantly, I bring news of the Counts of Oakharrow, news of a marriage!”
Ala listened attentively. Criers wanted people to hang around, so most of them begun with the most inconsequential information first.
“In Taladaria, there is a shortage of onions! The harvest went poorly and thus the price has skyrocketed! Perhaps, dear Thets, there is an opportunity there, eh?” it was a accompanied by a questioning expression as everything he said was embellished with great gestures.
“Who cares?” Someone yelled. “Get to the good stuff!”
“In Verdon, my friends, the Count fell from his horse, right on market day! It turns out, the honourable Count had partaken of a little too much of his own fine ale!”
“Did he die?” came another call from the crowd.
“Thankfully, only the great Count Louis’ pride was injured!”
“That’s not news! Get on with it, man! What happened in Oakharrow?!”
“Honoured people of the March! I wil get to that in just a moment. First, the news of Sheffield! Simon Urgyll, Baron Sheffield, has raised taxes in the Barony! There is great discontent and it is said that there are even whispers of revolt! Matters are made worse as the Baron is said to need the funds make is castle even more luxurious! At the same time, there are those who say it is long overdue, that the Castle in Pearson will collapse if it is not repaired soon! Who is to say who is right? I hope to be able to tell you more, dear Thets, when I next pass through your wonderful village!”
“Thetwick is a town, dimwit! Get to that Oakharrow marriage!”
“In due course, my esteemed people of Taladaria! First, I must speak of Erythrae! I have news of Crown Prince Hubert! He has won the last tournament of last year’s season, even at the tender age of sixteen! He vanquished the favourite, a Knight named Hillary de Briande, who serves in the retinue the Prince of Dirstad! Such prowess at such a young age shows great promise for is reign!”
He wasn’t insulted again. Ala wasn’t sure whether people had given up, or if they reckoned he was out of subjects and had to finally talk about the marriage in Oakharrow.
“Now, finally, citizens of Thetwick, I will speak of the news of your northern neighbours, Oakharrow. This Kaldmeer, Phoebe Sabran, Lady and heir of Oakharrow, of fifteen summers, married Acanos Botic, Lord of Vanskell! I don’t need to tell you, wise Thets, of the importance of this, I am certain! With no male heir in Oakharrow, the choice has fallen on this lord from Vanskell, brother of the Baron of a Selinan fief! The Botics are in great favour with King Justus the Fifth of Selinus! They are said to hold an importance and prestige far beyond that which is accorded to a mere Baron! Acanos is, according to Selinan traders a respected commander in Selinus who has led the King’s armies to do his bidding succesfully in the past! Does this mean the independence of Oakharrow comes to an end? I am not certain, dear Thets, but it seems that is likely to be the case! Perhaps then, here, in the Westmarch, far on the Western border of the great and true Kingdom of Iurrak, your situation has become more uncertain. The Westmarch shares a long border with Oakharrow… perhaps, it now also shares a long border with Selinus, our ancient enemy? Who can tell what wil happen next?”
He left a long pause and straightened himself up from his last exaggerated gesture.
“That concludes the news I have brought, dear Thets, please don’t begrudge your humble crier his bit.”
It was the traditional way a crier asked for money. He stepped down off the pedestal and removed his hat, which he turned and held up, so that people could deposit bits of silver in it, the customary way a crier was rewarded for his efforts. The same man would be telling stories tonight in and around the drinking hall, Ala knew, without his guild symbol on display. Many people came to give him money. The news about Oakharrow caused a lot of consternation and she could hear people discussing it all around her. It was obvious that the news had caused concern, which Ala understood, though she immediately felt the urge to learn more about Oakarrow and Selinus.
She already knew that Justus, King of Selinus and fifth of his name had not been on the throne for long. Ala had heard rumours around town that claimed that something had changed in Selinus since the old king, a half elf who had ruled for three centuries, had passed. Ala always kept her ears open for news about Selinus, as its Kings and Queens included the occasional half elf, including King Justus’ predecessor, Selinus VII. Selinus VII had spent centuries on the Selinan throne, meaning that Justus V was six generations removed from his predecessor. Selinus VII who was the Selinan King responsible for the peace that had held, to some extent, since 601. Justus himself was human, but it was said that his only child and heir, Viola, was a half elf too.
For weeks, Thetwick’s single drinking hall was lively with speculation about what the events in Oakharrow might mean. Ala didn’t dare go inside, of course, but she was kept up to date what the talk of the town was by listening in on the conversations of the horse breeders she often worked for and the caravanners that sometimes passed through Thetwick. Nothing of note happened until Wogekind 944. On a day that was shaping up to be as boring as many of the countless others Ala had seen, people started calling out that a caravan had been sighted. A few boys had come running into town from the fields to the south, bearing news of its approach.
It was customary for some of the farm boys to run into town when they spotted traders cresting Knockback Hill. That way everyone knew a caravan was coming and people had a chance to gather their wares and set up their stalls. Visiting merchants were a big event in Thetwick and Ala loved seeing the travellers and their wares. There were always riches, aromatic spices and exotic things on display, all things that Ala and Aubree couldn’t afford. Palady had always said Ala could go look at the caravans, but that she should keep both her headscarf and a hood on, seeing as not everyone took well to half-elves. Palady had reminded her of this so often that Ala took it very seriously. She had discovered early on that Palady hadn’t exaggerated. Thankfully she had been able to run away then. Still, caravans were far too exciting to stay away from. She often talked to the caravanners when they seemed friendly or harmless. Even though they usually seemed a little less prejudiced than the Thets, she always took care to make sure her ears were invisible and her hair was always dyed a mousy brown as Palady had always bid her.
A caravan always caused a flurry of activity, people would come into town, bringing their excess produce and any things they had made which they might be able to trade with the merchants. The boys that brought the news also described the approaching caravan to anyone who wanted to hear. That way, people knew whether it was big or whether the caravan master looked like he might be rich or not. The caravan that approached today was apparently both big and wealthy which was a reason for the Thets to make a special effort to bring out as many trade wares as they could. Ala always took the things she and Palady had left over, as well as items they made specifically to trade with merchants. She had dried mushrooms and herbs and Aubree was skilled at embroidery, making very nice scarves and cloaks when they could afford the materials. She was usually able to sell some things to the caravanners.
Raw produce was generally too voluminous a cargo to be worthwhile for the caravans. Things like home made spirits or iron bars from Irin mountain ore could be sold to the caravanners, as well as small, valuable items like richly decorated textiles or jewellery. As mining the Irins made one a prime target for orcks, the most important business that was conducted was the trade in horses. Trade with caravans was how most of Thetwick’s prized horses changed hands. It was the main reason for caravans to bother visiting the otherwise out of the way town. Other than the horses, Thetwick didn’t have anything else to offer that could not more easily be purchased without the six day detour that it took the average caravan to get from the caravan stop in Hightower, just over the river in Taladaria, to Thetwick and back. The road to Oakharrow was too poor and the ford over the Clearflow River too unreliable for caravans to continue North. The only other place to go would have been Seraphim but that was a dead end too, with no way for a caravan to make it safely across Seraph Creek into Greythorn.
By the time Ala got to the marketplace there were already men negotiating transactions and hands being shaken as greetings were exchanged and earlier agreements were reaffirmed. She realised she recognised the caravan, it was one run by the Von Taupenhausen family and it only rarely visited Thetwick, perhaps once every four or five years. The Von Taupenhausens were very rich merchants indeed. It filled her with a sense of anticipation, as the last time it had visited, she had met the Caravan Master’s daughter, a girl named Rosamund. Rosamund had been travelling with caravans since she was nine years old and was able to tell her many interesting things. Rosamund had even bought some things from her that visit. When Ala arrived, some traders were already unpacking items that were foreign to the Westmarch. She could smell the spices and see high quality fabrics being set out. The first disagreement of the day was also loudly being resolved. The argument was between Rosamund, who spoke with far more authority than Ala remembered from her previous visit four years before and one of the horse ranchers. Rosamund had been in her teens when Ala had last seen her and she’d grown into a buxom, pretty young woman who was obviously more interested in practicality than style. She dressed accordingly, wearing a dark, robust travelling dress, though it was well tailored and looked like it cost more than Ala and Aubree spent in a year. She wore the pin of a Journeywoman of the Caravanners Guild, a grade that she was young to have achieved. Rosamund had a kind of approachable innocence to her that Ala thought must be helpful when trading. Certainly, if her father left everything to her, she must be rather good at it.
Ala walked around a bit, waiting until the argument was over, since she wanted to talk to Rosamund. It didn’t take long for an agreement to be reached, it seemed to Ala that Rosamund had gotten the price she wanted in the end. She’d obviously noticed Ala hovering nearby.
“Ala, wasn’t it?” said Rosamund as she saw her approach. “You haven’t changed a bit. Again.” The young woman was smiling, but was clearly wondering how that was possible.
It was about four years since the last time the Von Taupenhausen caravan had visited, a fact that Ala hadn’t really thought about. She felt like she had to explain.
“I’m… a half elf… Mistress,” whispered Ala, hoping no one else would be reminded of it.
“Ah. That sort of explains it, a little. The first time I was here must be a decade ago. I think you looked the same then too. Anyway, good to see you. How are things in the Westmarch?”
“Much the same as your last visit. Not much goes on in Thetwick.”
Rosamund nodded, scanning the area before looking back at Ala. “I see you have a bag. Did you bring some things to trade? We’ve just come from Peyrepertuse, so we’re nigh on empty and I’m looking to replenish all manner of things. I’m afraid I don’t have much time to chat right now, father leaves most things to me these days while he… well I don’t think he does much of anything. So come on, what have you got?”
Rosamund bought everything she had with her, giving her a price that seemed more than fair. The woman gave the impression of wanting to buy half of Thetwick if she could get the price she wanted. Ala was a little disappointed that Rosamund didn’t have time to chat, but she was pleased she’d managed to sell everything so quickly. She continued along the length of the caravan to see if there was anything else interesting, since she now had quite a few silver coins, taking care to stay out of everyone’s way.
She noticed a burly, muscular man in chain mail with a moustache and sideburns standing by a powerful looking horse, checking its saddle. He seemed out of place. He had more bearing than she would have expected from a caravan guard and he carried himself with a different intent than a guard, she thought. His back was straighter and his eyes keener. He wore a large and beautiful longsword at his hip. She was sure the weapon had to be worth a fortune. On his belt there was also an elegant dagger with a wide crossguard and a belt pouch. His horse was a slightly aged, but still mighty, destrier. It had a kite shield slung behind the saddle on the right, displaying the Duke’s colours.
Ala was as fascinated by swords and swordplay as she had ever been. She was always interested in people who looked like they knew what they were doing with a blade. She still desperately wanted to learn how to use one. Any warrior who carried a sword like that with such practised ease fascinated her. She still spent a lot of time pretending sticks were swords, swinging them about when she was alone in the forest. She had even made herself several wooden swords over the years but she didn’t really have friends to practice with. Anyone she had managed to rope in swiftly lost interest or was scared off by her intensity.
She wondered if the man was a noble. Only nobles and their men-at-arms were allowed to wear swords. His shield only displayed the Duke’s colours though, not a full coat of arms. That was strange for a noble, they usually wanted to display their wealth and having a craftsman elaborately decorate a shield was a preferred way to do so. Not that she had seen many nobles, but those she had seen had often had shields which proclaimed their coat-of-arms. She knew a man-at-arms, as a member of the Duke’s retinue, also normally displayed the full coat of arms of the noble he served on his shield. She didn’t think it was a rule though, more of a very common custom. It did leave her wondering who this man was, since he was armed, but not a man-at-arms or a nobleman. Rosamund surely knew, but she was engaged in another lively negotiation.
Caravan guards were also allowed to be armed of course. They had to be signed under a caravan master’s charter to make it legal. But it didn’t make sense for a caravan guard to be displaying the Duke’s colours. If they displayed anything it was usually the caravan guild’s seal, but most didn’t even bother with that. If the caravan came all the way from Peyrepertuse, Ala decided that the man might have something to do with the Duke’s regiment, even if he was alone. Only a Duke, Prince or a King was allowed to keep standing regiments and the men who sometimes returned to the Westmarch from their service had the same straight backed posture that this man had.
If an army or a war band was marshalled it consisted of nobles and their knights and men-at-arms and the standing regiments kept by Dukes and Kings. The only thing Ala could think of was that this man must be a member of the Duke’s Regiment. That was even stranger. Since when did the Regiment dispatch individual soldiers anywhere? The men who returned from it didn’t normally return riding war horses sporting the Duke’s colours. She had to admit this man looked capable and experienced enough, but she thought that soldiers of the Duke’s regiment always travelled in groups.
The interesting looking warrior was around fifty years old and she could tell his moustache and sideburns hid some nasty old scars. He seemed to be taking in his surroundings, taking a long moment to look around him. He took a deep breath, breathing in through his nose, like he was smelling the air. Like someone coming home after a long absence, Ala thought to herself. Two of the teamsters were unloading heavy iron bound chests and long bundles wrapped in canvas from the cart. The big man said something to them and went to talk to Rosamund’s father, the caravan master, who rose to bid him farewell. Ala was watching all this with interest. The two men clasped hands and a small pouch was exchanged, which Master Von Taupenhausen seemed pleasantly surprised by. The warrior called to some of the many children standing around watching the caravan.
“You, with the dirty hair, and your friend. Also, you two, stop throttling each other or whatever that is you’re doing and come here, I have a job for you.”
The four boys stopped what they were doing and approached him warily.
“Want to earn some money, lads? How about it? You going to carry those chests and for me? Help me put those bundles over my mount for me?”
The bravest of the four, the boy with the dirty blonde hair looked at him. Ala knew him of course, his name was Chad. He frowned before speaking.
“How much, milord?”
“An eighth each.”
Chad nodded to the man, then gestured to his friends to come forward. They came to where the bundles and chests stood, each attempting to carry one.
“Hold on lads, here’s some rope, tie the bundles together so we can put them over Rico’s saddle. It’s not far, that’ll be fine for the walk. You lot are going to have to carry the chests, got it?”
With some direction, the chests and long bundles, which seemed to be long weapons, like spears and halberds, were manoeuvred onto either side of the horse, tied together so that the weapon bundles hung on either side of the animal. The warrior carefully checked that the rope wouldn’t chafe, making some adjustments so that there were several layers of leather and padding in between the horse and the rope. Ala liked seeing that he cared for his horse, she had seen people treat their mounts very differently too often.
Some other boys were now looking on enviously. There weren’t many opportunities for children to earn an eighth in Thetwick. The four boys struggled with their heavy cargoes and made slow headway. They quickly adapted, switching to dragging the chests behind them. The big man followed behind at a leisurely pace, leading his horse in an unhurried manner.
He seemed content just to look around, not minding the slow progress at all. Some of the other children had started to follow too, but they quickly grew bored with the slow pace. The man clearly knew where he was headed. Soon Ala was the only one still cautiously following, though she was keeping her distance.
“Girl, I can see you, you know,” the big man called to her.
She stopped.
“Stop hiding!” he continued, “come up here and walk with me, you can make yourself useful by answering some questions if you’re so set on seeing where I’m headed.”
Ala considered running away, but the man’s sword was just too interesting. He didn’t seem angry, more goodnatured than anything else. She was too curious. She stepped out from behind the tree where she was hiding and hurried forward and fell in beside him.
“Sorry milord,” she said.
“I’m not a lord.”
She glanced at his sword. He noticed her look. “Confused by the blade, are you?”
She gave a small nod, not really daring to say anything.
“The Duke has allowed me to continue bearing weapons as his man-at-arms, even though I’m retired from his regiment now. Nice of him huh? Though, of course it’s in his name that he asked me to wield it. What’s your name, girl?”
“Alagariel… sir… they call me Ala…” She decided to be bold, “what’s yours… sir?”
He stopped walking, “wait? Alagariel? Really?” He turned towards her so she turned towards him too, if a little apprehensively.
“Take down that hood,” he commanded with a nod of his head.
She decided it was better to do as she was told. His tone was that of one accustomed to having his orders followed.
“Well, well. Quite the beauty. Of course… age much slower… a few more years… well maybe more than a few…” he muttered more to himself than to her, nodding slightly.
Then his eyes lit up, as if he had thought of something. “Is Aubree still around?”
Suddenly he seemed animated. She was almost shocked, then decided it wasn’t a strange question if Thetwick had once been his home. Aubree was around the same age as he was.
“Yes, master. I live with her now. Since her husband died.”
It wasn’t strictly true. Aubree’s husband had died a few years earlier by the time Palady passed away. If Ala told the story this way though, it sounded less like charity. In the meantime Ala was thinking. She remembered a young boy, Bernie… he had left to join the Duke’s Regiment when he was around twelve or thirteen. This could be him, she decided.
“Aubree’s a widow? Hmm….” He seemed to consider that for a moment, then changed the subject.
“You know Old Kendrick? You must have, you’re older than I am. Anyway, he once told me the story about the patrol that brought you in. I was a wide-eyed little boy, wanting to know all about soldiering. Kendrick must be long gone by now, eh?”
“Yes, master,” she said, like she always did when adult humans who told her something she already knew and expected her to answer.
“I’m guessing… that must have been… around a century ago by now? It must be something like that. Palady, I think that was her name, wasn’t it? She was the only one who would look after you, or that’s what Kendrick claimed. Brave woman. Aubree is her great-granddaughter.”
The way he said it like a sort of history lesson.
“I know, sir… sorry… master.”
He looked puzzled for a moment as he thought. “That’s right. Of course you do. Silly of me. You were there…” he stopped again for a moment to look at her, clearly considering something.
“You just look so young…” he continued. “Takes some getting used to you know, when you meet someone who looks like a child… and then thirty years later she still looks like one… well just perhaps fourteen or fifteen winters now, maybe, if you were human. I suppose there is some difference. Still, it’s… unusual,” he said, somehow feeling that he needed to explain why he was telling her things she already knew.
Ala felt some sympathy for him. She supposed from his point of view, it was a little strange. Even if he’d met elves and half elves on his travels, he was unlikely to have ever met very young ones twice with three decades between meetings. She forgot about her theory when another thought came to her. She was suddenly curious if he knew anything about her she didn’t.
“I never really spoke to Old Kendrick, sir, I don’t think… what did he say, sir? Was he really there, do you think? I only know what Palady told me.”
He turned away from her and continued walking, the horse following along. The four boys had made little progress. Ala wasn’t sure they would think it was fair pay in the end, considering how hard the work was.
“He was… well,” he seemed to consider for a moment, “the tale he told seemed believable. Or it did when I was thirteen. I have no reason to doubt it and no way of knowing whether it was truthful. In all honesty I have no way of knowing for certain, Alagariel. I’ve known men who like to exaggerate, but then I have also known those who downplay things or say nothing at all. I… I don’t rightly know how Old Kendrick measures up. I wasn’t really thinking about that sort of thing when I was thirteen.”
He stopped to consider her a third time.
“This is a bit of a shock for me, girl. Girl? You’re older than I am. I have a full military career, even manage a little distinction through my service. I come back home… and you’re still adolescent. You look as old as I was when I left. You’re some sort of elf mix are you? That’s what my ma always said.”
“Yes sir. I’m a half-elf.”
There was something about the way he asked, like he didn’t believe her. Where else did he think the slow ageing and the ears came from, she wondered?
“If we’re going to get along, Alagariel, stop calling me sir. I’ve worked for a damn living all my life.”
“Yes s… uhm… what do I call you then? Is master alright… s… ehh… ma..ster?”
She wasn’t about to use ‘Bernie’ after all.
“Oh yes… you wouldn’t know that. I’m Bernard. Just call me Bernard.”
“Uhm… OK.. Master Bernard.”
“So how do you keep yourself busy, Alagariel?”
She was surprised by the question. Adults didn’t normally ask her anything they wanted a real answer to.
“I go to school. Sometimes. I help in the fields during the seasons. Sometimes I hunt. Mainly I help the horse breeders.”
“So you know horses?”
She shrugged, “they seem to like me… si… Master Bernard.”
“Do they? That’s good then, there’s always a place for people who know horses.”
“Are you good with a sword?”
He grinned, “where did that suddenly come from?”
She shrugged, “I like swords.”
“Well, I’d say I’m pretty fair. Good enough for the Duke anyway. There’s places where that means something.”
“Do you know how to teach people to sword fight?”
“You’re just full of questions aren’t you? I’ve taught before, yes. Quite a lot. The Duke has a Regiment to run and all… why?”
“Will you teach me?”
He frowned, “what on Vatan for?”
“Well… I just really want to learn… Please, Master Bernard?” she asked, worried she sounded as if she was pleading. She was, of course, but it wouldn’t do to sound that way.
His look changed to mild surprise as he realised the intensity with which Ala was regarding him.
“Really? A girl who wants to learn to sword fight? That’s not something I hear every day.” Bernard looked at her again for a moment, quite seriously, before he spoke again. “I will consider it,” he said, in a way that made her believe he meant it.
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Lieutenant Hieronymus Arcenaux was second-in-command of the expedition to the Westmarch in the spring of 994. He served in the Taladarian Regiment for many years without any particular distinction after using almost all of his inheritance to purchase his commission from the King of Iurrak.
Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
The history of the Westmarch has long been defined by the conflict between the Kingdoms of Selinus and Iurrak. Ever since Yves the First founded the sublime Kingdom of Iurrak in 521, just after his great and most righteous rebellion against Viola the Third of Selinus, the two great lands have never managed to improve their relationship beyond a prickly tolerance. When sentiments became violent, the conflict has inevitably played out in the three fiefs that lie between Selinus and Iurrak, Saskill, Oakharrow and the Westmarch from north to south.
The wise and great King Gabriel the First of Iurrak made an ill fated attempt to alleviate the constant disagreements. He negotiated the Peace of Equals, ending eighty years of war between Iurrak and Selinus in 601. In that treaty, it was agreed that Saskill, Oakharrow and the Westmarch would form an independent buffer Kingdom between Selinus and Iurrak. Of course, this would turn out to be short lived. Selinus soon after usurped the Saskill title through marriage and skulduggery. The Kings of Iurrak had little choice but to eventually do the same, though they attempted to abide by the terms of the treaty for another two centuries before Annette de Baerle married Ivan, Duke of Taladaria at King Humphrey the Fourth’s behest in 814. So, the title of the March passed to the Duke when the last regnant Marquis, Xavier, passed away. It is for this reason, that, to this day, the Duchy of Taladaria is the only title within the Iurrakan peerage permitted to hold two regnant titles unified within one person, a right formalised in a special agreement between the King and Peers of Iurrak.
From the Encyclopedia Royalis Iurraka, edition of 975.
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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Ala still went to the school every now and again, usually for a few months or weeks at a time. Normally she would go again whenever a new temple sister arrived from outside Thetwick. New sisters tended to bring new knowledge with them, which was exciting. The temple always offered a few years of schooling to the villages’ children, officially until the age of ten, but Ala’s repeated presence was always tolerated as long as she helped whoever was teaching where she could. The sisters took turns teaching the classes in the mornings. Children with aptitude for it were taught to read, write and do basic sums. Ala already knew how to write in elven from before she came to Thetwick, but she always wanted to improve her command of the human language. She knew she had a ever so slight accent that she’d never quite been able to shake.
New sisters teaching in the school seemed to be better trained in sums than the ones who had been there decades before, like Deirdre. It made it worthwhile to go back every few years. There was usually at least something new to be learned. Ala was certain she had learned all that anyone around her knew about the history of Taladaria and Thetwick. She’d experienced most of what had recently happened in Thetwick herself, which the humans seemed to collectively forget all the time. It sometimes made things awkward, when people claimed that their father or grandfather had done something which she knew to be untrue since she’d actually known the person in question.
Very occasionally, school was very interesting. Not long after the meeting hall had been erected in Thetwick, the Temple of Ceres seemed to have taken a renewed interest in its flock in Thetwick. In the summer of 924, the Temple was visited by a woman, a Canoness, whose arrival caused quite some consternation in the Thetwick Temple. The sisters almost decided to send Ala away from school, until Gera, now advanced in age herself pointed out that Alagariel only looked ever so slightly older than the customary ten years of age that most ended their schooling in Thetwick. So, thanks to Gera’s intervention Ala was attending class, keeping to herself when the Canoness, a stern looking lady named Clair Fichot attended the lesson to observe. The sister who was teaching the class was clearly unnerved by the woman’s presence. Ala had to admit she did look quite severe.
The lesson continued. It was a history lesson that Ala had heard many times. Most of the sisters did not have much of an interest in history and today’s teacher was no different. Not much changed about in that respect, even when new Sisters arrived. Ala, seeing as she had heard it all before was mainly paying attention to the way the stern woman’s scowl was rapidly turning more pronounced as the lesson progressed. Only a few minutes in, she spoke.
“Sister, if you don’t mind, I’ll take over today’s lesson. Why don’t you sit down and observe?”
The sister nodded and quickly say down in the back, not far from Ala. The Canoness made her way to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.
“Now children, today I’m going to tell you a bit more about the history of your home. I will be asking questions later, so pay attention.”
The woman certainly had Ala’s attention. She’d always been curious about the history of the Westmarch, but the sister’s usually didn’t go back very far and only covered a time that Ala had actually experienced. Ala had long learned that it wasn’t a good idea to point out discrepancies that she knew about because she’d been alive during the events being described.
“First of all, is there anything any of you particularly wants to know about?”
Ala was excited, since she had lots of things she wanted to know about. It was only after no one else reacted that she dared to raise her hand.
“You, young lass, what is it you want to know?”
“Err… Canoness.. I… well I was hoping you could tell us something about how the Westmarch came to be?”
“Those are things that happened very long ago. But alright, why not? So, how the Westmarch came to be a march, let’s discuss that, shall we?”
Ala nodded eagerly.
“Around 601… you do know all know the current year is 924, don’t you?”
From the blank looks it was clear not everyone did.
“So that’s… three hundred and twenty three years ago, when a peace agreement was reached between Selinus and Iurrak after eighty years of war. That peace was signed at the Ford Inn, where the road to Taladaria crosses the Iceflow river. It was agreed between King Gabriel the first of Iurrak and King Selinus the seventh of Selinus.”
This was all new to Ala and she was loving it.
“Now, this peace led to the Westmarch being formed. The two Kings were tired of all the war between their countries and they were looking for a way to stop it happening again. So, they agreed that three fiefs would become a buffer between Iurrak and Selinus. In the North, bordering the sea, that was Saskill, then Oakharrow in the middle and in the south, the Westmarch, where we are now. Of course, it wasn’t called the Westmarch back then. I’m not completely sure what it was called but one name I’ve heard for it is ‘Difayakwininos’, which I’m probably pronouncing wrong. It’s said that it’s elven in origin but it doesn’t sound anything like any elven I’ve ever heard.”
It sounded familiar to Ala, though it wasn’t quite normal elven she was sure. Part of it sounded like the elven word for ‘house’. She decided not to let on that she understood elven. As Ala was thinking about the old name, Canoness Fichot looked around the room. She had the children’s attention. It was hard to know why but somehow, when she talked about history it seemed far more interesting than what Ala was used to.
“So, Saskill and Oakharrow were independent counties. The Westmarch was made into a march, probably because it also had to guard against attacks from the Orck Mountains and a Marchioness has more rights to hold troops than a Count does. You do all know that the Orck Mountains are south of the Irins that border the Westmarch in the south? The orcks come down in great hordes every few decades and the Westmarch is the first line of defence against them.”
Ala knew about the orcks of course, but the revelation of there being a Marquis was strange news to Ala. She was certain there was no current Marquis in the Westmarch. The Canoness spotted her look of puzzlement.
“Do you have a question, young lady?”
“Eh… well… what happened to the Marquis? There isn’t one is there, mistress?”
Clair Fochet smiled, the first time Ala had seen her do so. It was a very different look.
“Very astute. Actually, there is though. Does anyone know who the current Marquis of the Westmarch is?”
This drew blank stares all around, eventually Sister Penny, who was still sitting in the back, raised her hand.
“Yes, Sister?”
“It’s the Duke of Taladaria, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. It’s not really a part of the story about how the Westmarch came to be, as it happened much later, but the title of the Westmarch passed to the Dukes of Taladaria much later by marriage. Now, it’s not customary for a Lord to hold two regnant titles, but it’s the way things are in the case of the Westmarch. It’s generally frowned upon and I imagine the King of Iurrak accepts it because the Westmarch is so sparsely populated that it needs the Duke’s soldiers if it is to be able to defend Taldaria both from the Orcks and Selinus. Mostly, Kings are quite strict about the one regnant title per person rule. Anyway, now back to the story of the Westmarch and the Peace of 601.”
Ala was sure she’d never had quite as interesting a history lesson in the Temple of Ceres ever before.
“Well anyway, it seems that the intention was that eventually Saskill, Oakharrow and the Westmarch would become a small Kingdom that would stop Iurrak and Selinus becoming angry at one another. It never happened that way though. Selinus soon annexed Saskill though I don’t really know how that happened without it leading to another war. Perhaps it was through marriage, I would have to study it more than I have so far and I simply haven’t had the time.”
Ala went home that day with a lot to think about. Unfortunately the Canoness didn’t stay for long and school went back to being more or less the same immediately after the woman left. It made her sad, she could think of many more questions she wanted to ask the woman. The subject went back to religion, which the Sisters seemed to spend a lot of the school’s time repeating. Mostly, they went on and on about their goddess, Ceres, who was a very boring goddess who was seemingly mostly interested in bovines and agriculture, two subjects that Ala always found it difficult to concentrate on. While she could kind of understand why such a goddess was important in a farming community like Thetwick, she wished the sisters wouldn’t talk about it as much. She preferred hearing about different gods, which the sisters infrequently discussed. Sometimes Guanshiyin, the lady of Compassion was mentioned or Mars, the god of War. Sancus, Belus and Wotan existed too, Ala knew, but their jobs were hard to understand. Belus seemed to be popular in the south and Wotan in the North. There were even more, but other than acknowledge that more did exist, the sisters of Ceres did not consider it fitting to discuss them in their classroom. Ala tried to convince them too, but they told her it wasn’t allowed. Pressing them further only resulted in finding out that the High Priestess in Dirstad had forbidden talk of other gods. Ala didn’t even know there was a place called Dirstad.
Still, despite her many irritations with the Sisters of Ceres, it was there that she had learned about the geography of Vatan. Across the Iceflow River which was the Westmarch’s eastern border lay the rest of Taladaria, the first fief you encountered to the south east was the Barony of Sheffield. To the north east was the County of Verdon which bordered a small stretch of the Westmarch across the river. The western bank of the river was very marshy there making it very difficult to get directly from the Westmarch to Verdon. Other than a few trappers, not many people lived in that part of Verdon as it was almost always damp and misty. Large sections flooded every year and the only settlement of note was a place called Landing, a community of wooden buildings on stilts where trappers came to trade their wares and rest. It was mostly empty during the winter months.
Oakharrow County lay to the North, though there wasn’t a clearly defined natural border there. There was a line of low hills, but it lacked clear demarcation compared to the Iceflow river in the East. For a long time, contact between Thetwick and Oakharrow had been regular and generally amicable, with people frequently visiting each other’s markets and occasional marriages between the fiefs. The ground in Oakharrow was rocky and hard, unsuitable for much more than sheep and goat herding, making it even poorer than Thetwick, especially since it had been independent for a long time. There was never an influx of gold like when the Duke had the meeting hall built in Thetwick or when he’d sent former cavalrymen to breed warhorses.
Ala had seen her share of armies march through the Westmarch as well as attacks by orcks from the South. The fortifications that the Westmarch had had in the distant past, most notably the tower where Ala liked to go and play had already been destroyed a long time before Ala arrived in Thetwick. Taladaria and Selinus seemed to violently disagree about things quite regularly. During her life the Duke’s men had come to deal with incidents with Oakharrow and Selinus, as well as the intermittent bands of orcks coming down from the southern mountains. It didn’t happen often and normally they didn’t get very far but Ala would never forget the great orck horde that came down from the mountains in 861. Everything had been topsy-turvy for almost a year and when they returned after having had to flee Thetwick, it took a long time for the town to recover.
Incursions from Selinus had been something that would happen several times a year for in some periods, then nothing might happen for a decade or more. Sometimes it was a cattle raid and sometimes Selinan nobles decided to plunder a hamlet and once even Thetwick itself had been raided. It was during that raid that Ala’s human twelve year old sister Emma had been abducted. It had been a great shock for everybody in Palady’s family. Emma had been taken by a group of mounted warriors, black knights from Selinus. Ala had only been in Thetwick for about a decade then. Such raids were a part of life in the Westmarch, but even though that was dramatic and shocking, for the most part Thetwick was peaceful during Ala’s time there. Relations with Oakharrow did noticeably deteriorate after King Justus was crowned in Selinus and interaction between Oakharrow and the Westmarch decreased after that. In later years Ala came to understand that the frequency of the raids tended to be related to the presence of young nobles in the regions closest to the Westmarch, mainly the Barony of Greythorn. Abduction, for the purpose of indentured servitude was a disgusting sport for the Selinan nobility. It was also Emma’s probable fate.
For the most part, the people of Thetwick had little to do with the outside world. News from other lands was scarce as travelers from far away were rare. Any news from lands beyond Taladaria or Selinus seldom made it to Thetick. Ala heard the news of a Duke’s passing in the year 920 when she’d been in Thetwick about eighty years. She didn’t really understand its significance at the time. To her, the fact that the old Duke had died and a new Duke, Ivan the Second, had inherited, didn’t change anything for her daily life. As far as she could tell it didn’t really change anything in Thetwick either. She didn’t understand why it was the talk of the town for several weeks. It wasn’t until much later that she realised that the building of the new town hall and the assigning of a permanent Constable a few years after the inheritance was an example of the new Duke setting his house in order and bolstering his Western defences.
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Sunset, the life story of an important character that features in the Tales of Vatan: Alagariel series, passed through the hundred thousand word (100k) barrier this week. This really a chronological collection of stories that one character in the world experienced and it’s served as a way to give the world and recent history of Vatan more depth and colour.
I generally consider “full book” status to be achieved from about 125k words. At the moment, I feel there are at least two large sections still to write, as there’s stll more than a hundred years to cover. So, it’s possible that Sunset will end up being a long one. I don’t anticipate two volumes, but you never know.
Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Palady’s Passing
Ala had been in Thetwick for almost seventy years, as close as she could reckon it, when Palady passed away. It was early in the spring of the year 916, with snow still on the ground in many places, following a winter that had been unusually cold. There was only the slightest inkling of spring in the air and the lack of new life felt like an approprate backdrop for her funeral.
Ala was very sad, Palady had been her one constant during all her time in Thetwick, which almost felt like it was all she had ever known. Palady had lived a very long life for a human, outliving both her human daughter, Olivia and her granddaughter Amelia. No one had ever found out what had become of her other daughter Emma after her abduction by Selinan raiders. Amelia had died in childbirth, giving birth to Aubree, Palady’s youngest great grandchild. Palady’s long life was something Ala knew she should feel grateful for but she still felt very alone without the old lady. Aubree had been raised by Palady and Ala after Amelia and Olivia’s deaths. By then Palady had already been quite old, so Ala had played an important role in Aubree’s upbringing. It was Aubree who came to Ala’s rescue when Ala couldn’t stay in Palady’s house any longer.
The house Palady had lived in had been rented from one of the richer families in Thetwick, relatives of Palady’s deceased husband Jack. It was generations later though and no vestiges of a family relationship would allow Ala to live there for free. Ala had no income and she looked like a slight human girl not quite in her early teens, aside from the pointed ears that she always kept hidden under her long hair, a headscarf or a hooded cloak. In addition, women weren’t officially allowed to enter into contracts in the Westmarch or even anywhere in Iurrak, unless they were widowed. That wasn’t to say that Ala hadn’t seen it happen over the years, but the age humans perceived her to be and the fact that she was a half elf meant that such an arrangement wasn’t a possibility for Ala. Aubree’s offer to take her in was a great relief. Ala hadn’t really known what else to do and she had even seriously been considering leaving to live in the forest somewhere.
Aubree’s husband, Alexander, had died very shortly after she had married, even before they’d had any children. Aubree had always been close to Ala, even more so after her husband died. Having been mostly raised by Ala, there weren’t many secrets between the two of them. At Palady’s funeral, Aubree suggested that Ala should live with her. It was a little awkward at first of course. The two knew each other well, but Aubree was twenty three and used to running her own little household. Ala had hardly changed in twenty three years, being much like a young teen-aged human child that whole time. She was also used to taking care of everything for Palady. She and Aubree took a while to adjust, to balance their house together but they did find a way to comfortably complement each other after a time. Every so often, the fact that Ala wasn’t human would come up.
“You know Ala, it’s so hard to imagine that you’re probably even older than Palady was,” Aubree said thoughtfully once, when the were sitting together by the fire on a rainy night.
“I’m not completely sure that I am. But… you’re right… it has to be something like that.”
“Such a strange thing. I… well… humans I guess… we all think highly of a long life. But when it’s as long as yours. I see how hard it is for you to fit in among the rest of us.”
“It… well, sometimes it’s a bit unpleasant. Though it has its upsides, too.”
“I suppose. Well at this rate, I’ll be an old woman before you’re even marriageable. I think I would have liked to see that.”
“Marriage? No thanks.”
“Trust you to say that. Well, we’ll see. You’re so… timeless, I can’t really imagine it either. Sometimes it makes me feel weird.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you fault. Probably because we Thets don’t get around much. I mean, you’re hardly the only half-elf in Taladaria, I’d think. Just, we’re not used to it out here in the Westmarch.”
Every few years they had a comparable conversation. It was really the only time Ala’s different nature ever came up. When they were out, Ala was treated like Aubree’s child sister and Ala played along, but the relationship was somewhere between equal and the other way round. Ala had picked the minds of anyone who was willing to talk to her for decades, after all and she knew an awful lot compared to almost everyone in Thetwick. She also knew the school’s whole curriculum better than the Sisters of Ceres themselves. Ala’s comparatively endless knowledge and skills were something Aubree had grown up with, so it didn’t unnerve her like it tended to do with the other villagers.
In fact, Aubree looked up to Ala. Ala loved Aubree and accepted the strange way her human relationships changed during her slow life. It wasn’t as if she had any real choice. Ala continually watched the lives of all the villagers passing her by. As she grew older and her body developed boys started to show an interest in her. She noticed them, of course. She didn’t find the attention unpleasant, but none of the boys in the village interested her. She had been around long enough to know exactly what boys of that age were driven by. Not that she didn’t have similar urges, she just wasn’t quite ruled by them. The boys were all so… small-minded. Even the human girls thought the boys were immature, so it made sense to her that she wasn’t interested in them, since she had been around so much longer than everyone else.
Young boys, especially younger brothers without any inheritance, were still regularly sent to join the Duke’s regiment. As Thetwick’s population grew, so did the number of children and also the number of boys who were sent to serve the Duke. Eldest sons inherited, girls grew up and had husbands and children. There were tragedies, small and big and sometimes violence. There was even a murder every decade or so. A man was caught and hanged in front of the whole town, once, for banditry along the road to the Ford Inn. It had been quite gruesome, making Ala feel queasy. Once, they even had to flee Thetwick, going north towards Oakharrow when a horde of Orcks came out of the southern mountains. The orcks were eventually driven back by the Duke’s regiment and the Levy, but several buildings in Thetwick were damaged or burned. Many men who had been in the levy had been killed. When they were able to return, signs of battle were still fresh, with defensive berms and stakes still visible all the way around the town.
Thetwick had good times and bad times during the years that Ala lived there. At times it had swelled to the size of a modest town while after the orck attacks in 861 and 926 it had taken years to recover, though the former attack, known as ‘The Great Horde’ had been the worst by far. Most of the town was built out of wood, which easily disappeared, or so it seemed to Ala who had been in Thetwick longer than many of the houses. A lot of houses had been destroyed during the orck attacks too.
Ever so slowly more stone buildings and even some fortifications were raised. They were built out of stone quarried a few miles upstream of the town. There was no wall around the town, but some of the richer families started building stronger houses as the years passed. Some more affluent inhabitants rebuilt parts of their house in stone as Thetwick became wealthier, for protection and durability. In the year 927 a grand building was erected by men sent by the Duke. Ala thought it was both a reaction to the Orck Incursion the year before and an effort to help Thetwick recover from the damage.
The meeting hall was was the largest and strongest building Thetwick had seen in living memory. It had strong walls, arrow slits and even a modest square tower, with crenellations around a pointed roof on top. Its building had been supervised by several the Duke’s men who had come all the way from Peyrepertuse to oversee the construction. One of them had been a master mason and he directed the building of the hall. It was a place for meetings, courts, festivals and a base for the levy. Outside the hall, a large area was marked out for the Duke’s use. It was the drilling field, where the levy was to meet and practice their skills. It was a square of a hundred by a hundred royal yards, surrounded by a row of solid oak trees that were planted around its perimeter. Even they seemed to grow faster than Ala did. From then on, the town had a Constable too, who customarily was elected by the council of elders to take care of the Duke’s and the towns’ affairs. The Constable also was the Lieutenant of the Levy and was in charge of drilling and leading the militia when it was needed. Ala almost never saw a Lieutenant actually practising with the militia, it was a part of the job that no one seemed to take very seriously.
\bigskip
Life was frustrating for Ala at times. Even when Palady had been alive everyone in the family had understood that emphasising Ala’s longevity among the people of Thetwick would make life harder. There was a lot of superstition and it was better not to give people cause to think about Ala as if she were something other than human. When Ala had moved in with Aubree they had also agreed that it was best if most townspeople didn’t think about Ala at all. The majority of the people of Thetwick knew of her presence, but they seemed to be prepared to ignore it as long as she stayed on the periphery of society. Partly because of that, Ala had always spent a lot of time out and about, ranging around the countryside. She was particularly good at finding edible mushrooms, far more than they could eat. She usually traded most of them for other foods. Mostly she was alone because it was so hard to find companions who didn’t eventually grow uncomfortable with her. Humans expected her to be friends with children who looked like they were in the same age bracket. As Ala was vastly older than those human children that didn’t work very well. On the other hand, older humans tended to treat her like a child, which Ala didn’t like either. Every so often Ala found someone she was friendly with for a while, but it never seemed to take long for the differences in the rates that they aged to come between them, or, as also happened frequently, for the friend in question to be forbidden to speak to her because she was a half elf.
She did make the acquaintance of some of the hunters, offering to help them in exchange for things like an occasional hide or some meat. This was a partnership that worked well as it required little talking and was always focused on the task at hand. Most of the professional hunters tended to be a kind of loners too. Hunting was a profession for those who preferred to be out in nature, left to their own devices. She learned many things from them, things like how to set snares, skinning rabbits, boars and deer, cooking over a fire and how to hunt with a bow and fend for herself. The hunters were used to working alone and it was easier to talk with them individually than when she was in the town. That seemed to apply at least as long as the subject was related to hunting. She learned a little fletching from them too, enough to make herself a serviceable hunting bow.
She did grow, ever so slowly, slowly developing into a beautiful young girl, seemingly in her teens. She had continued to dye her hair a mousy brown colour just as Palady had always insisted she do. It had actually taken decades before Ala really knew what her real hair colour was.
“Ala, your roots are showing again,” said Aubree one afternoon.
“Already?” Ala sighed.
“You could just… you know… not dye it? Your natural colour is so wonderful.”
“No, I promised Palady.”
“I know. Well, I think we still have everything we need to make more dye from the last batch. I’ll mix some up for you. You might need to bring back some nettles with you from the forest, we’re probably going to need more of those.”
“I will.”
Palady had made her promise to keep it brown after she died, which she dutifully did as often as she remembered to.
Ala’s favourite job was helping the many horse breeders of Thetwick. Not many of them would tolerate her around their farms at first, but there had been a few since she’d started looking like she was in her teens that hadn’t turned away her help with grooming and walking the horses. At one of the farms, the owner saw her whisper a huge unruly breeding stallion that no one else dared approach to calmness and that was all that was needed for her to be given more substantial jobs. Eventually, word got around that she had a knack for horses. Ala knew that the Duke had given a number of his Regiment’s former cavalrymen a grant of land in Thetwick, as well as a contract to supply warhorses. It had developed into Thetwick’s most important source of income from outside the county. Thetwick had become famous for its horses in the decades that Ala lived there. Even the Duke of Taladaria himself was said to ride Thetwick bred destriers, a fact the villagers were all very proud of.
Ala just liked the fact that the horses didn’t judge her. The majestic creatures always seemed to really like her, especially when she spoke to them in elven. The only thing that fascinated her more than horses was swords and swordplay, though there was no way for a young girl in Thetwick to do more than watch the levy on those rare occasions when it was called out to practice. When they did, something in the back of her mind told her that they didn’t really know what they were doing, though she never said anything. Sometimes some young men would start a group for weapons practice, but that usually didn’t last for long either. She had tried to join in when boys were playing with wooden swords many times but she had always been turned away, sometimes violently. In the rural culture of Thetwick, a sword wielding girl was unimaginable.
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The long time Captain of the Westmarch Militia, who took his post in 944 after retiring from the Duke’s Regiment as a widely respected Sergeant-Major. This depiction is circa 950, in Thetwick.
