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.
Captain of the Militia
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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