Activities were becoming increasingly hostile in the North, and rumors began to spread some of the duchies were showing signs of unrest, even if the nobles were being loyal to the cause. Though some questions were stirring around the duchy of Turgall, he would address Duke Harmond's actions on his return. For now, he was heading North, into Hellvion.
The Duke of Hellvion was normally amicable, but his wife- something no man could tame. Duchess Melora was famous for this, and now it was time for him to save face before them. The Duchess was writhing mad when she found out mages were destroying her roads in attempts at a boycott so that goods from her land could not get in or out. Letters, she claimed, were not enough action from the Grand Duke so he sent one last letter informing her he would arrive personally to deal with his manner and help assess the situation on her own home front. Allar, the Grand Duke's home duchy, was not much different than Hellvion in terrain, though coastal trade was near impossible for Hellvion, due to the wicked mountains that separated Hellvion from the sea.
Things seemed to quiet down after that as Grand Duke Allarrick began his preparations for the long journey North. Winter was on it's way, the temperature dropping near freezing by the time his caravan began to leave the capital, and already there was about two feet of snow on the ground once he passed the duchy of Turgall and was making his way westwardly through Wulfbauer. But the winds were picking up, and the snow was unrelenting.
It was a blinding force, but Calent was adamant they stick to course. Even through the rocky and uneven, cliff-side roads of Hellvion as they iced over.
"You are well aware of the famous temper of Duchess Melora. We should do our best not to trifle with her. I would hate to see any favor of the duchies bend because they fear my actions are inadequate." And his men left it at that. But as the carriage lurched forward, and the horses, slipping on the road, his men called for a break.
Even an hour break cast nearly another foot of snow on his trail, and the temperature was growing colder by the minute. It seemed a bit early for such weather, though summer ended early, and most assumed to be ready for a longer, colder winter this year.
They were not wrong.
As snow flooded the trail, they made camp against the hillside, and a fire was made to keep everyone warm. Though the Grand Duke was used to much more cozy accommodations, it could not be said for certain how close they were to the next town. But this break was limited, or so he thought, but as they snow's continued, it seemed even the horses were becoming buried.
"We can not stay here or we'll freeze. We could move along on foot," Calent had suggested, but Zannrick, ever his right hand man, gave a scoff.
"And risk your life? You know these mage rebels could be tailing us and waiting for a weak moment."
"Then let them try to fight in the snow." Calent challenged, and Zannrick immediately quieted. Keeping his hand to the pummel of his sword, the mordecai bowed his head before the Grand Duke.
"If my liege wishes to press onward, we could break up the party and continue on foot. It would be another five days travel north, perhaps six, with the incoming weather, but we could push onward much more successfully that way to get to the castle."
Though as Calent agreed, Zannrick had to wonder why he'd risk the trek. They could all freeze to death if the weather became more violent. And Connlaoth needed it's ruler. He was a firm believer in what his duke preached, so he would not question his game of politics, but it seemed preposterous to risk ones life to appease the silly wife of a Duke.
But Calent knew better. Hellvion was very important in this political game. Fall out of favor with her, and most duchies of the west would join. There were already accounts on their being some doubt, and he wished to stomp that out. There would be unity in his reign, this much he'd make for certain.
So the party continued on foot- those with the horses turning back and more rations and supplies were given to the remaining men. Snow shoes were now worn in order to make the travel all the lighter, but two days of snow soon turned into two more days of ice.
Travel was impossible, and Calent found himself and his men needing to make more frequent stops to make camp, and now with another mountainous road set before them- they were making camp yet again.
It was maddening and the snow mixed with the ice made the terrain all the more uncertain and treacherous. And as he sat up late that night, the winds howling all around him, the Grand Duke found himself unable to sleep- though he rarely did, and when he did sleep.... the nightmares would always come.
This night was nothing any different, as the shadows of his mind danced across his vision in vivacious details. Curved and dark and dangerous- and full of blood. And the murder was replayed in his mind- and each time it felt far more real than the last.
He awoke in a sweat, though the fire had long gone out. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, and his breath came out in a puff of white. Pushing his tent side open he stumbled to a halt as he was pelted with both win, snow and uncomfortable icy rain.
But he had to piss, and he had to get out of that tent, lest his own mind consume him, and fervently he rushed through the quiet snow towards a hill side to relieve himself though he did not stop there. No, to quell his mind he began a long trek from camp- finding himself desiring the solitude- no, needing it. Though as he came to the edge of a path he found himself foolishly lost for as he turned around- he had no idea which way he had gone. The path had become more dangerous and the snow falling so fast his tracks were well covered up. Had he not been so distracted with that dream...
but that was neither here nor there, for he was already lost on this long cold road, and the temperature was dropping fast.
Considering the path followed along the cliff side, he figured there was only one way left to go- but one wrong stepped proved him wrong, and his journey back soon ended there as the ice beneath him gave out and he fell through a ditch unseen- for the snow had covered it well and he had offered just the right amount of weight to break it-
and down the hillside he wet, crashing through rough ice and snow and rocks in a painful tumble until somewhere, near the endless bottom- he settled into an unmoving heap.
The wind was a howling beast, ripping and tearing at the mercenaries flesh with fangs of ice; the sky, a leviathan of whirling snow, seeking to bury her with its all-engulfing bulk.
Thick snowdrifts had caked her boots with snow. The mahogany fur of her cloak was heavy with snow and the shoulders were white with the skies frozen fury. Eyes, pools of deep blue, stared out from under a snow-caked hood of bear fur. Her back was piled with supplies, and leather saddlebags hung on each end a spear she had laid across her shoulders.
Two pine shields, a recurve bow of composite bone and wood, three quivers of arrows, food, bedding and miscellaneous supplies bowed her back and slowed her feet, but she struggled on. Minutes turned into hours. Hours turned into a morning, then an evening, then a night. To stop without a fire was to court a frigid death. The mercenary ignored the fatigue creeping through her powerful legs and shoulders. She tuned out the icy pain that shot through her toes and the burning in her lower back. Julia had no choice. March or die.
The ferocity of the storm had been unexpected. Perhaps a decade of exile had dulled her memory. Perhaps this was simply a storm of unusual power. The veteran swordswoman was unsure of why, but she silently cursed herself for being caught so unprepared. Her horse had died in the first few hours, having too little protection against the frigid winds. An hour later Julia was lost, left with no other choice but to trek along the base of a cliff, using it for partial shelter against the winds and as a landmark.
Had it not been for his colorful garb the warrior for hire would have tripped over his snow covered, prone form. Her heavy boots crunched to a halt, buried past the ankle in snow. A grunt escaped her as she leaned to the left, allowing one-half of the load on her spear to slide to the ground, before dropping the other half as well. A fur-covered gauntlet grasps the spear by the steel socket and she prods the most powerful man in Connlaoth with the iron buttcap of her boar-spear. She shouts, driving her soprano voice through the howling winds. "Still alive down there?"
All the woman would find was the near frozen stiff shape of his cloak, that jutted out from the ground like a flag. It bore a crest, though it was hard to distinguish just exactly what was embroidered into the fabric becuase it as so encased in ice and snow dust. The rest o fhis body faired the same, and at the poke, he didn't even move. It seemed no matter how fancy his clothing was, or now matter his title- the ice still took on victims, big and small.
As the iron thumped into his frozen, stiff form Julia assumed he was dead. Another victim of the vicious weather. Some frilly noble out for an ill-advised hunt, caught in the storm. Or perhaps a wealthy young man, too wild to heed the words of his elders and avoid the frozen tundra.
No matter, she thought. If he was dead he would not miss any food he carried. Or his valuables. The cloak alone looked expensive. Driving her spear into the frozen dirt she approached the man, frozen knees creaking as she knelt beside him. Ice cracked as she pulled her langseax from her belt. The heavy blade hacked away at the ice around him and her mailed fist tossed chunks of it aside; re-energized by the thought of fresh supplies.. or gold.
A few minutes later she had dug his frost covered form from the ice. Having already assumed the well dressed man had passed through the veil unto the afterlife Julia wasted no time patting him down for anything she could eat or sell.
As the woman patted him down, the man stirred, barely making a noise, but his life force was evident int he way he breathed. Soft puffs of white breath began to escape from his slightly parted lips and nose.
"Well. Curse me to Hel." The veteran warrior leaned back, kneeling on one knee with her seax-wielding hand resting upon her lead knee. Snow whirled around her fur cloaked form as she pondered her options.
The first, and easiest option was to stick him a few times, let him bleed out, and take what she needed from his corpse. She did not feel any twinge of guilt or remorse for considering such a course of action, although she preferred to avoid slaying the defenseless.
The other, and far more difficult course of action was to try and help them man. He would use up some of her valuable supplies of course, and by his condition he would slow her passage through this storm. She feared that in a blizzard of this magnitude delay would equal death.
For a long moment she set, snow piling upon her fur cloak as she pondered. Then she stuffed her langseax back into its leather scabbard and reached under her cloak, drawing forth a skin of watery wine, kept warm by its proximity to her flesh. "Rise and shine, sunshine." She shook him by the shoulder and pressed the wineskin to his lips. "Drink. You need something to get your blood flowing."
When the wine began to pour into his lips, initially, the man choked on it. Sputtering, he eventually found the need and desire to lap at it, much like a dog. By now, the wine was dribbling down his face from his lips, even as he swallowed it fervently in a thirsted rush and the wine trickling down was now moistening the fur outlines of his cloak-a nd after a moment, he groaned and finally looked up at some strange woman above him.
"Who.. who are you?" he asked in a croak.
Julia tucked the wineskin back under her cloak and pulled it tight around her before looking back to the frozen Calent and answering his question. "My name is Julia."
"But..." She struggled back to her feet, feeling the chill creeping through her legs. Constant movement, hour after hour, had spared her from freezing thus far but she knew it was time to move again. "That's not important right now." The veteran mercenary extended a fur and maile covered glove. "We need to move before we freeze to death. Take my hand and I'll get you to your feet. You can lean on me, but we need to move."
At the reality of their situation, Calent groaned, expelling a hot wisps of white breath as he did. The cold had already crept through him- he could barely feel his body, even as he tried to grope onto Julia for support. Staying warm.. moving.. they both equaled survival, and though it pained him, he forced himself to stand with a grunt.
Unwittingly, he leaned into her, for he could barely feel his legs as he shivered within his cloak. He wore quite alot of layers, but frost was already collecting on his dark lashes and his nose, turning red and his lips, seeming blue.
His teeth were chattering before he gave a nod of his head.
"Then let's walk before the cold takes us."
He could ignore the pain for now, for he had little choice as he lifted his head, trying to keep his chin as high as he could.
A grunt escaped her lips as she she supported his weight, slipping her right arm under his shoulders. Julia was tough, hardened by a decade of force marches, travel and training across the four corners of the earth but she had been exposed to the cold for hours now, and heavily burdened besides. Tendrils of fatigue were crawling through her limbs.
"Short detour." She said, and turned them around, plodding through the snow until she could return to her spear and saddle bags. Crouching she fished them from the snow and hooked the leather bags on the lug wings of the boar spear. Her frame wobbled as she shoved herself back to her feet, propping the heavy spear over her free shoulder.
"Alright. Lean on me when you need to." Turning them around once more she begin plodding through the snow. Before long each step sent fire through her legs and back, burdened as she was by the weight of a full grown man and the stores of supplies her stallion usually carried. "If you need a drink, or something to eat there are rations and wine on my belt. But we can't stop until we reach shelter."
Calent's teeth were chattering. No, he couldn't think of eating at a time like this, but simply nodded in reply, or at least he thought he did. Even his face felt numb as his eyes took in the white lands all around them. It was nearly blinding and forcing his eyes to tear up as they walked when winds would sweep through the trees.
He understood plainly what she meant. They could not stop or rest or anything until they got out of this storm, but something caught his eyes, off in the foggy distance as he raised his head, but found his mouth too frozen to speak up. Was that a cabin? He could only bloody hope it was, but the figure was shrouded in foggy, falling snow.
Through the whirling snow Julia's eyes caught the glimmer of something. Squinting she slowly turned their pace toward it; whatever it was could hardly worsen their situation now. Step after step they plodded through the snow until at long last their goal was reveled; a cabin.
Fair sized, sturdily built, snug and secure it was the kind of place one could hunker down in and endure mighty storms. A flicker of relief shot through the mercenaries mind. She didn't know how much longer they would have lasted.
Struggling up the short hill to the cabin she tried the door. Locked. No lights glowed under the shingles, and they were nailed shut. She slipped her arm out from under Calent's shoulders and dropped her spear and saddlebags into the snow. Planting one boot in the frozen ground she drew up the other and kicked the door. Hard. The entire door frame groaned but the oak held.
"Sturdy." She grunted through wind chapped lips. Whoever had built this had pride in their work; good craftsmanship, good materials. Julia didn't give a damn. It was just something else that was in her way. Her boot slammed into it again, and again and again, rage flickering in her eyes as she tapped into a preternatural burst of strength and energy.
A loud 'pop' rang out, loud enough to be heard over the roaring winds. The door opened about six inches, the splintered bolt of oak viable through the crack. Her armored shoulder smashed into the door one final time and sent the broken oak spinning as the sturdy door flew open.
Warmed by the exertion and proximity of rest she was re-energized. After helping Calent inside, should he require it she gather her own equipment and brought it inside, tossing it all into the corner and abandoning the supplies that had weighed upon her back for hours.
Grabbing one of her pine shields she pinned on edge against the floor and stomped it. It snapped and she stomped the two pieces, repeating the process three times until she had a number of broken pine planks. These she tossed into the fireplace. Kneeling beside it she tossed in a few pieces of dried branches that had been stored inside the cabin as tinder. Then she worked her flint-stone and steel until she had a roaring fire.
Only then did she wedge the door shut with her spear shaft and fall into one of the sturdy wooden chairs near the fire. Looking over at Calent she arched a brow, dry amusement filling her voice. "Whew."
Calent felt like a useless lump from where he had been discarded in a corner of solitude. But it was hard for him to feel his body, and as many times as he tried to rise- he could not. He hadn't realized he has been injured- a broken leg, perhaps, or just a bad sprain, it was hard to tell, and a gash on his forehead where the blood had frozen to his skin.
So as the woman worked, he could only observe, and at her 'Whew', he frowned.
He wasn't much one with words outside of politics, and despite his position as the Grand Duke; he'd much rather not talk to other people at all. He shifted about uneasily and managed to crawl his way over to the fire and sat there, feeling barely any relief coming from the growing flames of the fire. But as the fire grew, so did the warmth, which began to thaw out his skin in painful, needle like sensations that were crawling all over his skin.
Though despite all that happened, he kept his green eyes listlessly on the fire, and he did not realize how numb his stare looked, nor how much he was shivering. But who knew how long the man had been out there in the snow- it might even be too late for him- his clothing soaked well with snow and ice- which worked doubly against retaining any sort of heat when the patches of ice would begin to melt and sink deeper into the fur trimmed clothing decorated in leathera nd silk.
As Julia set, feeling the warmth of the flames flicker across her face she realized that her labor was not yet completed. Her companion appeared frozen to the bone. "How long were you out there?" She stood, the stiffness returning as the adrenaline faded. "Your cloths are soaked."
Removing her own fur cloak she tossed it over a dusty table in the center of the room. The iron rings in her waist length black braid clattered against her maile armored back as she looked through the room until she found a couple of large, smooth river stones. She tossed them into the blazing fire and waited for them to heat before dragging them out with the iron poker. "Take these and tuck them under your armpits. They will heat your blood."
Silently, he obeyed, taking the warm stones and resting them there. At first it seemed to do little help, but he started to feel the burn again- but at this point, just about everything in his body burned.
"These clothes.." he began to say, teeth chattering. "I.. I have to be rid of them. They're soaked. And keeping them on could harbor death."
Wincing, the man attempted to stand, but it was evident his legs just wouldn't let him as he remained half bent over, keeping on hand over his thigh as he grimaced.
It was some time later, as the shadows lengthened into evening and the storm blustered heavily outside that a single figure made his way across the landscape. The wind pushed and pulled at him, and it drove the snow hard against the thick fur coat he wore...but if he stayed outside much longer, even that thick coat would not be enough.
It was hard to say whether it was the man's strength alone or if the wind helped him to burst into the small house. The door, already splintered on its frame from the beating it had received earlier, was thrown inwards, and the man hurriedly pressed it shut again in his wake. Only once he was sure it was secure did he turn to regard the residents of this strange, out of the way house in the middle of nowhere.
Kerr looked more like an abominable snowman than a human. The snow had matted in the very threads of his coat and turned to ice. A muffler had been wound around his head to protect his face, revealing only the pale blue eyes set in a reddened, wind-burned face.
The strange woman who had been tending to the Grand Duke during this time had all but vanished that morning, but the length of time she was gone was hard to say- for some time between when she had left and this new man arrived, the Grand Duke had fallen asleep. And nearly, though not as thoroughly so, he appeared as quite the disheveled mess. A heavy beard had graced his face, his skin, red with fever, and glistening over with the evidence of sweat. Though even as he slept, something roused him, drew him from the depths of the shadows as he cried out in alarm.
His green eyes shot open and he to his knees suddenly, hand to the hilt of his blade-
but what caught him off guard more than the creepy, unsettled violence of his own dreams- was the fact a new person had appeared and it was enough to cause the green eyed man to blink. The new comer looked like quite a monster.
"State your business here," Calent spoke through his teeth- and though he was weak, he still held some bite in his breath.
Kerr's eyes took in the pallor of the man's skin, the weapon not so far away, the fine clothing strewn about the small shack to dry... His eyebrows rose slightly -- rather comically, given they, too, were decorated in frozen snow -- and beneath the muffler, he smiled. Well, it seemed not all of his luck had abandoned him today...
He held out both hands before him, then carefully began to reveal parts of his face. Speaking now would only come out muffled and difficult to understand -- and he meant to take shelter here from the storm, no matter what the cost.
Pulling down the hood revealed yellow hair that reflected the firelight like gold, and unwinding his face from the protective cloth unveiled a handsome face, the age of which was difficult, precisely, to pin-point. It contained youth, but there was hardness there that spoke of many trials survived.
"Shelter. The same as you. If this was your hut, there would have been no need to kick in the door." Kerr eyed the man, daring him to refute the statement, then began to pull off the heavy, wet layers that had kept him from the cold winter winds. He wore simple, unadorned clothes beneath...as well as a mace on his belt that looked well-used.
Though Calent's face hardened, he gave a rigid nod of his head.
"Yes, it seems the predicted weather has come true. And we've got a long ways to go before this is all over." He peered at the man for a time as he revealed his face, and not having recognized it, he gestured towards the fire. "Come closer to warm yourself. There is plenty of space near the fire."
Kerr nodded ever-so-slightly. He stepped closer, already feeling the warmth of the fire even though he had barely entered the circle of light. As he crouched down before the flame with his hands outstretched, his eyes moved over the shadowy confines of the room before moving back to the small shack's other occupant.
"Where are the owners?"
There was something poised about the way he sat, hunkered down on the balls of his feet, coiled, and ready to spring should the need arise. It made him seem dangerous, somehow, like a snake about to strike even as he ventured to ask about the fates of the original owners...
Calent peered at the man, and though both were haggard, and Calent, evidently having something wrong wtih him as he did not move, the only thing that came off his tongue was, "There was no one here when we had come."
"We?"
Kerr's smile was close-lipped as he regarded the other man across the flickering flames of the fire. The light played with both of their features as they sat across from one another.
"Forgive me, but I didn't escape the storm to be murdered in my sleep. The North has been thrown into chaos, and chaos attracts dangerous men."
Such as himself. However, he had no interest in killing a sick man...particularly when it would not help his cause. If, however, the sick man and his partners made the first move...then the truce was over.
"There was one other. Not one of my men, but a woman on her own." he paused, observing the man before his face hardened. "You have not seen her?"
Or had he disposed of her? Calent was not a man to over look any sort of detail, and he carefully studied the man's features in silent judgement.
A woman? A woman should not be too much trouble, should she suddenly appear...
Turning his attention to the fire, he rubbed his hands together to work out some of the knots that had formed in the bitter cold outside.
"I thought you had the look of a noble about you. You certainly are no Northman. What are you doing here?"
Calent's expression went bitter, green eyes cutting into him.
"I came traveling North with a caravan." The man did not need to know much more than that, but he had an inkling he'd ask more about it anyway.
Kerr at last must have decided it was safe enough to sit, for he settled down near the fire with a barely-suppressed chill. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Because, one might assume that if he were here alone, it meant things had not ended well for his caravan...be it the storm or something else...
"You look as though you've got a fever." Rising, he began to investigate the small house. He still felt a little stiff in his limbs, but it would be better to walk it out than let it stiffen up further by crouching beside the fire. "I'm no doctor, but I'll see what I can do."
Calent cut a glare the other man's way. He wasn't sure what it was about this man, but he felt testy and so he replied, curtly, "No. The Fever will break now that I am out of the weather." And he closed his eyes, sighing. "But thank you for your concern." Besides, what else could the man do for him anyway? They were in a cabin without any supplies. Unless he were some herbalist and carried a pouch of dried remedy, that of which, he doubted. But he had been surprised before...
Stubborn fool, Kerr thought with a roll of his eyes. Rather than say as much, he set a tin cup of snow down to melt beside the fire, then scooted the freshly-melted snow closer to the sick man. It wasn't kindness that made him want to see the man recover so much as it was an instinct that the man was more important...or could be. And Kerr was a man who loathed to give up an opportunity.
"You should stay warm," he added as a set of blankets were set down beside him as well. Another blanket was soon strung across the door in an effort to protect them from the draft. The fact the door was barely holding itself together had opened up a rather large crack through which freezing air was blowing...and a bit of snow, too.
Seeing how the man was not reaching for a knife or some means to poison him, the shivering man nodded at his suggestions, and moved rigid hands in attempts to layer himself in the offered blankets. Though when a strong gust of wind nearly blew the door open, Calent attempted to rise, believing he might be of some assistance and seeming to be oh so ignorant of his delicate state.
Kerr was busy fighting with the door, his senses dulled by his concentration and the whistle of the wind as he steadily forced the door closed. It wasn't until Calent was on his feet that he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
"You shouldn't over-exert yourself," he muttered as he pushed the door shut with all of his might. In truth, it did look as though he could use a hand -- but, eventually, he'd get this thing shut. Did they really have to break down the door to get inside, though?
Calent stared at him with a long and tired face, and once the door was secure, instead of moving to sit, he glanced around the room.
"I need to rest, but I also need to move. It is too confining in here. Perhaps I shall pace a bit to get the blood flowing."
"Do as you like," Kerr answered shortly as he settled down in front of the fire. "But, as I said, I am no doctor. If you make yourself any sicker, I don't think I'll be able to do much but carve your name on the door of your tomb when I go."
Nor did he have the patience to tend to the sick...
"Out of curiosity, what name would that be?"
"Allarrick," he said, firmly. "Grand Duke Calent Allarrick." And not much would need to be said in proof of it, for he wore the banners and badges of his status clearly across his form.
It was rare that Kerr was caught off-guard -- but this was certainly one of those times. He found himself staring at the other man for a moment. Of all the people had had presumed this might be, the Grand Duke himself never made it on that list... It was certainly an interesting opportunity...
"Kerr," he said at length, reaching out a hand in greeting. "Mikko Kerr. I hadn't expected to find the Grand Duke himself here..."
Despite himself, despite the situation, he saw the man's genuine surprise and cracked a small smile.
"Neither did I. I... had attentions to deal with in the North. Hellvion castle is... or was... only a day or so ride from where we had been perched on the mountain pass. The weather... caught us quite by surprise. Though suffice to say, we had hoped it would hold off until we were well within Hellvion proper. A... foolish act to be sure. But the Duke and Duchess had called upon me, and I could not deny a Duchy in need."
"Indeed," he agreed grimly. It was a foolish thing to do -- particularly for a man liked as little as the Grand Duke. "You're lucky I am who I am. There's a fair chance you would be killed on sight by some of the people in this area."
And, once upon a time, by Kerr himself... Fortunately for him, the Grand Duke was more useful alive at present.
"Yes," Calent said with a careful sigh, but also a sight that told of the tiresome trail he walked. "It is one of the reasons I have come to Hellvion. While there is peace in the Northern half, by the southern boarder it seems there are a lot of unruly cities with unhappy citizens causing problems for the Hellvion military. I promised to come post haste. Duchess Melora would have nothing less."
Kerr nodded slightly. Yes, he supposed he knew quite a bit about that...
"Were you bringing relief troops?" It was hard to imagine an entire army had been decimated by the weather...as bad as it was... Still, he'd seen worse disasters, he supposed.
"No," the Grand Duke shook his head. "It was to devise a plan of action and to figure out where aid could be best used if more troops were brought into Hellvion. It seems my letters were not enough when I made suggestions along with some of my top Generals. It seemed she wanted visual confirmation of my... concern."
"I'm not surprised." As he spoke, he worked his pipe and tobacco out of the pocket where he had stowed them, taking a moment to open up the tin for a pinch of the stuff before offering the tin to Calent. "It seems she is making a point by dragging you away from home at such a time. I've no doubt she's still offended with your choice in bride." That was the rumor, at least.
Calent shook his head at the offering, raising a hand.
"If I were to believe every rumor, Connlaoth would be in a most sorry state indeed."
And studying the man a moment, he frowned.
"What brings you out in such weather? Even the mages seemed to have cease because of it."
Murder and mayhem, mostly...
"Exactly," he answered with a handsome grin that looked somehow shark-like. "It seems I've made an enemy of a certain mage, who is determined to have my head. I was hoping the storm would slow him down and give me some room to breathe."
Calent scoffed.
"Even if weather like this a mage becomes as ruthless as a dog." He shook his head. "They have no scruples." Though he frowned and looked the man over. "Are you a man from the military?" He could only hope, it would be nice to get an update from this side of the land. Melora's words only told him so much- and she rarely revealed updates unless in person. It was... terribly trying, and after an event like this....
Well, he might have to reconsider any future endeavors in the duchy.
Ruthless? Indeed.
Kerr's grin seemed hardly dampened by their topic of conversation as he finally lit his pipe. He puffed at it a few times before answering the Grand Duke.
"Once upon a time. I've become a bit of a mercenary these last few years. I tend to wander, you see, which means I call no duchy my home...and, therefore, no lord may call on me."
He couldn't have known that, his little bit of information helped cement the seed of conscription. Yes.. men like this, those who believe in the cause, she not be wasted. Connlaoth needed every bit of it's valuable resources. It was definitely something he'd have to consider come his return.
"And when you were in the military, what Duke did you serve?"
"I'm from Wulfbauer originally," the man answered honestly -- though, of course, Calent could not know that. "Shame about the Carwicks. I never met any of them personally -- no social standing to speak of -- but they were a decent family by all accounts." He blew out a ring of smoke, and it wavered unsteadily as it drifted upwards towards the ceiling.
Calent gave a nod.
"It was unfortunate indeed. That duchy, I dare say, has seen better times."
"It certainly has. That seems to be the case with your home duchy as well."
The news of the terrible flood had spread quickly throughout all of Connlaoth...as well as the rumors involving magic... It was an interesting scenario, to say the least. Some had even ventured to claim the Shrouded Swordsman and Masked Mordecai had had a hand in the destruction themselves.
"I'm afraid my news it a bit outdated. Hazards of the road and all. How are the repairs faring? Were they able to repair the harbor wall before the winter set in?"
Calent grew silent a while at the thought, before answering, evenly. "Yes. Though it took more resources from the military than I'd like, but the Duchy could not be left in such a state."
Kerr nodded slightly, looking serene and sage as he puffed on his pipe. "That must have been a hard decision to make. Knowing what to sacrifice and when you must... That's something to be respected." He bowed his head slightly, as a gesture of respect.
"I'll get you to Hellvion once this storm clears up. You've wandered pretty far to the west."
Calent peered up at him carefully.
"My men.. they were on the mountain pass. I... had an unfortunate fall when I wondered off foolishly on my own. As a result..." he gestured to where he lay now. "I don't think I've ever suffered more bruises and scratches in all of my life."
Though there had been that one time with he and his wife...
But well, that had been more pleasure than a silly fall off a cliff side. He was just lucky there was snow...
A true fall in any other weather would have resulted in death.
Kerr nodded thoughtfully. "And I very much doubt they would have left without you, unless the storm forced them to move on." He rubbed his chin, thinking over the situation for a moment before saying, "That pass gets pretty bad in this weather. I'll be surprised if we find it open. The snow slides right off the sides of the pass onto the road. Come spring, it will all melt...and that's a whole different problem."
"Yes," the Grand Duke frowned. "Unfortunately, my hope the weather would hold out until I've reached the castle seems to have gone in vein. Though I'm sure Angsar has a reason, he does have a path for us all."
"He certainly does," Kerr agreed, sounding, momentarily, a bit dark as he mused over the subject of his arch-enemy. "I suppose you've grown rather accustomed to those rumors as well. I certainly hope the Church isn't pulling away from the throne and that Saint Solee was an isolated incident..." Of course, he was referring to the incident involving Kathryn and the attempt on her life...
Calent furrowed his brow. Thankfully, that was the only incident that was popular. Damn rumors, even if they were true. It was harder to.. cover up any faults of his wife when they were in such public a place.
"But of course," he replied evenly, if not a bit tiredly. And he tried to move to make himself more comfortable, but it elicited a grimace from the man as his hand shot to his leg. Damn... feeling something wet- he realized he had reopened the wound. Gingerly turning the leg over, he regarded it a moment with a deepening frown. This was just not to be his winter. Not only was this season to take it's toll on his country, but himself as well!
"That looks like a nasty wound," Kerr observed sagely. He should know; he'd had his fair share of nasty wounds himself. "We should pack it and stitch it up. What did you cut it open on?"
Rising once more, the man began to busy himself about the hut. He set more snow beside the fire to melt and went to his pack to fish out a needle and thread. "It won't be pretty when I'm done, but at least you won't bleed out."
Heh, it seemed he had a captive audience after all...
Calent's eyes flashed to Kerr's, though he said nothing for a time. "I wouldn't know. Probably sound rock or sharp ice when I fell."
A plain, white shirt was taken from Kerr's pack -- his only spare, as it turned out, though he wouldn't complain -- and he began to tear it into strips. Once everything was ready, he heated his needle in the fire with a curious glance towards the Grand Duke. "That is, assuming you don't mind, your grace. I've gotten pretty good at patching myself up. Mercenary units aren't usually lucky enough to have a surgeon attached to their outfit." Particularly not in his brand of work...
"Oh, that reminds me." From his pack, he drew out some tea. Sprinkling it into the water heating in the cup, he offered it to Calent. "Some tea. It will dull the pain without knocking you on your ass. And it probably won't hurt your cold, either."
Calent stared at the tea hesitantly, before knocking back a great gulp of it after blowing on it a few times to cool it off. But he cared not for a burned mouth, he just wanted this to be over and done with.
"So I suppose you can do this swiftly?" he asked, wiping any tea dribble from his lips.
Kerr's grin looked a little crooked as he peered up at the man. "Don't like needles?" What good would it do any of them to hurry this along? There was a storm outside, after all...and even if there wasn't, with a wound like this, the Grand Duke wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"I wasn't expecting you to gulp down the entire cup..." He'd spoken true when he said the tea would help numb the pain -- but gulp down the whole cup like that would have its side effects. Calent might stay conscious, but he would probably feel disconnected from his body, as though he were floating above it looking down...and who knew what else?
But he sure wouldn't feel anything!
"Be still, now, and let me work. I'll be as quick as I can."
Calent's head was immediately affected by the drug. Not only did his throat burn from it, but as Kerr suspected, he felt himself floating, as if up and away from all of this, and the room not feeling quite as close as it was, but also confining in the same breath. He blinked, his pupil's dilating as he half growled, "Yes, well... whatever needs to be done.."A nd his voice trailed off on the end, as he clutched onto his consciousness, trying feverishly to stay awake, even as the heaviness of the drug threatened to take him down as his body also began to grow hot, and he, to sweat.
"You must relax and let the herbs do their work," Kerr advised as he bent over the man's leg to examine the wound. It was a jagged, nasty thing, and it would leave quite the scar even with the proper treatment. Well, Kerr would do his best, regardless; they couldn't have a lame Grand Duke, could they?
His needle shot out swiftly, beginning to knit up the bleeding flesh with a steady hand. Even as he worked, he could feel the amount of heat the man's body was giving off... It would either break the fever, or it would kill him.
"I have to say," he muttered as he looked down at the injured man with a catlike grin, "I never imagined I'd be patching up the Grand Duke himself."
Calent was still swimming from the tea, and trying to keep himself from wincing each time the man worked the needle into his flesh. But at the last comment, he flattened his frown.
"I can't say I imagined it, either."
"You might as well sleep," he added with a glance towards his patient. "There's nothing else to do until the storm passes and your leg heals enough for you to walk on it, anyway."
And, he imagined, it would be a difficult journey, with the snow probably deep enough to that they would spend most of their time fighting through it rather than simply walking...
Calent gave an irritably sigh.
"Sleep would come more swiftly without the storm." For it added just one more plague to his mind.
Kerr's laugh was genuine in response to the Grand Duke's gripes. It seemed the rumors about him were true after all...
"Apologies, your grace, but there is only so much a man can do. I'm not often relied upon for my medical services, so I'm afraid I've already given you all I have."
And, there was no way he could collect more -- not in the dead of winter with a massive blizzard trying to knock in the door, anyway.
Calent gave a sigh and leaned his head back so it rested against the wall.
"It is not that I don't appreciate what you've done. It's just this winter is but another head ache added to my plate."
Things just could never be easy for him, it seemed. War, winter and women....
Just too many plagues in every direction he turned.
"Well, there's only one person you can thank for the winter storm, isn't there?" Once settled down in front of the fire again, he extended his hands outwards for the flames to warm them. One person indeed -- stubborn, sadistic bastard that he was...
"What, the mages?" Calent said, his jest coming out a bit bitter in his drugged stated as he gave a glare towards the wall. His head was swimming, and he found himself raising up a hand and holding his temples, eyes closing to stop the room from spinning.
Kerr blinked at the man, then grinned widely. Well, now he supposed he knew what happened when you drank the tea too quickly...
Good to know.
"Not what I had in mind, no. Hey, look, I'll make you a one-time deal here. It's not something I usually do, but it might help you sleep."
Kerr took a sip of the melted snow beside the fire, then cleared his voice softly and began to sing. His voice was soft, but there was an almost unnatural beauty about his melody and the way he formed the words to the song. The rhythm was almost hypnotic, lulling the Grand Duke to sleep with a folk song so old it had been all-but forgotten by most.
"In the fields, the grains began to sway,
In the reddening dawn of that final day.
And the voice carried 'pon the wind
Promised hope, peace, forgiveness of sin
All those who fought and all those who died.
Though we live on, not a one survived
Murdered by guilt, by fear, or pride.
Sacrificed all at the whim of a lord,
He remembered but forgotten the horde,
All those who fought and all those who died."
The song was hypnotic in his fever and drugged state, and he found his eye lids hanging low.And just as it appeared as if the man were to drift off to sleep, he grumbled the words, ".. like a piano. Your voice. Like the music, on my piano.."
And then his body shifted forward as he fell into a restless sleep.
Kerr's smile twisted slightly upwards. He didn't sing often these days -- and, certainly, not for an audience. Once upon a time, however, it was something he had loved...but, like everything else, it fell to the wayside, unable to compete with his quest for vengeance.
By the time Calent awoke, the storm outside had dropped off significantly, although the wind continued to howl outside. The tiny cabin had been warmed by the heat of the fire, which had all-but sputtered out now but for a few burning embers. The gray light of morning trickled weakly through the window, trying to compete with the blown snow and snow already covering the window.
Across the room, in a shadowy lump lay the Grand Duke's unlikely savior, asleep from the even breathing, now himself. His mace sat nearby -- easily in arm's reach -- though his back was currently to it, to the dying fire, and to Calent himself. His pack served as a pillow, while his heavy jacket had been tucked over him as a sort of blanket to keep the chill of winter at bay.
It was dark when Calent awoke, the chill from a dying fire setting in and the approach of a second night was at hand. But what could be seen out of the little window of the cabin indicated at least the snow had subsided. Raising his head, he gave a groggy look Kerr's way before peering over to the fire. The blaze was a low glow and barely humming with life. Seeing the pile of wood nearby, he pushed himself along and managed to toss a log onto the flames. The fire let.out a breath of smoke and sparkling chips aglow, before returning to its crackling contentment. With a heavy with, Calent leaned up against the wall, catching his breath and letting his eyes drift towards the window, and wondering what was to become of the day.
"Awake at last," Kerr murmured as he shifted beneath his blanket-jacket. He yawned softly, then picked himself up with the air of a soldier accustomed to uneasy, unreliable, and uncomfortable sleep.
"How's your appetite?" He gave the Grand Duke a once over, noting the effort which it had taken to put a simple log on the fire, and then he offered him a grin. "And your fever? Not any worse, I hope."
He doubted that; if it were worse, he never would have awakened at all.
The moment he heard Kerr move, his eyes immediately went to the man. He observed him in relative silence before frowning and closing his eyes. He was exhausted, still groggy from sleep, but managed to rake a hand through his hair as he sighed at his last question.
"It's still there, but tolerable," he murmured, keeping his eyes close and a hand poised in his hair.
"You obviously needed that sleep." With the air of a man accustomed to checking battle wounds, he examined the freshly-sewn up leg, then nodded in satisfaction that it wasn't continuing to bleed. He didn't dare removed the bandages -- not yet, at least.
"I'll have to go hunting if we want anything of substance, but I have some jerky." Here, he fished out a piece and offered it to the Grand Duke with a thoughtful frown. "Not what my mother would recommend for a sick man, but it's better than starving to death."
Calent gave a tired sigh and nod in his direction.
"I could offer to help you, though I'm sure I'd be more of a hindrance than a help." Even if his own hunting skills were impressive. "Perhaps when this is over and I return to my men, you can come back with me and I can reward you for your generosity."
No kind act should go ignored.
"It will take some time, I think, to dig ourselves out of this place." He gestured towards the windows, half of which were buried beneath heavy snow. "We'll have to dig ourselves out, I'm afraid. And once outside, who can say how deep the snow will be?" It wouldn't be easy, that was for certain...
The offer to repay his generosity, inexplicably, made Kerr laugh. "If I wanted payment, I'd hold you hostage, your Grace. Thank you, but no. I've other business I must attend." People to kill, places to see...
Calent frowned and peered over towards the door.
"Perhaps we should have a look now?" ANd he moved to try to rise, grunting painfully at the effort.
"If you're determined to kill yourself, you go right ahead." A kinder man, probably, would have moved to help or to usher Calent back down -- but Kerr was not a kind man, and he had learned long ago that a man was more likely to learn his lesson through a licking than through kindness, anyway. So let the Grand Duke take his licking -- perhaps next time, he wouldn't go wandering away from his men in unfamiliar territory on the brink of a snowstorm.
And, perhaps, he would realize just how hurt he was. And, better yet, Kerr would get to see just how weak the man was...
So, instead of helping, Kerr simply watched in knowing silence as the Grand Duke of Connlaoth tried to pull himself together enough to simply stand.
It took an incredible amount of strength and effort just to get himself up on two feet. ANd he wasn't even that well off. He was shaky, and a bit dizzy for it, leaning heavily into the wall. But he was a stubborn thing and wanted to test the limits of how badly he truly was off- but a few steps out proved the obvious, and Calent couldn't even make it to the door before he stopped.
Making a face, he tried to grit back the pain, and let himself fall into a chair nearby a window. It creaked beneath his weight and he lay there for a while, the room weighing heavily upon him as he breathed. After a few moments, he finally opened his eyes and peered up at the ceiling, then over at the window. But there was nothing to see beyond the white.
His breath was released in a hot puff against the glass, fogging it, and nothing more. After a time, he merely turned away from it, closing his eyes and letting his heart beat calm down.
Kerr watched attentively as the man pulled himself, through willpower alone, to first his feet, then to a chair by the window. He nodded slightly to himself and turned his attention to sharpening his dagger to give the man some privacy to sulk.
Eventually, though, he rose to his feet and began to wrap himself, once again, in the heavy layers that had protected him from the cold earlier.
"You're from Allar, so I know you know how bad a blizzard can be. What you probably don't know, Your Grace, is just how difficult it is to travel by foot in a heavy snow." No, the Grand Duke -- and even a man with so low a rank as a lord -- would have no idea what it meant to travel in a blizzard; they had men to prepare the road for them and to travel beside them. Two men, alone, however... It was vastly different. "You'll kill us both unless you're strong enough to travel." His smile was dark as he added, "And I'm not foolish enough to throw myself on Angsar's mercy." No, he knew how that would end... "We stay until you're no longer a liability."
With that, he lifted the scarf up over his face and plunged into the snowbank outside to begin the long process of digging them out.
---
The weeks dragged by slowly. Kerr was as gracious a host and companion as he could manage to be -- which was to say, he was careful to be civil, if not particularly polite. But he was civil, in a down-to-earth, soldiering kind of way...
As soon as Calent was well enough to sit up and to help, he was put to work. There would be no pampering here -- if it were Kerr alone, he would have waited out the worst of the winter in this secluded place rather than risk a trip in the snow...but with two of them and one of them antsy to be on his way, preparations had to be made. Kerr managed to do a little hunting, so the meat had to be prepared for travel. He managed to collect some firewood, which had to be carefully dried and bundled. And a makeshift sled had to be prepared to carry everything. And if there was anything Kerr had learned, it was that survival depended on careful planning...
The weeks did in fact drag on, and Calent grew more haggard and restless as it persisted. He was already growing in a thick beard by now- one that had been tame before, but now was positively grizzled, and it made him look like anything but the Grand Duke- a man made to sit on a throne and bark out orders while living in a posh and opulent castle.
No, now darker circles were collecting beneath his eyes, and his green eyes appeared more grey, and his skin, much paler an he- looking quite gaunt. But he was recovering, and healing about as fast as a man could in his position. But it was not the healing and the snow and the travel that got to him-
as always...
It was the nightmares- the plagues that kept him never at rest. Last night's dream had been one of the worst- for the shadows showed him something else; and he could not fathom why. Normally he relieved the nightmare of his father's 'death'- and it- always presented to him as a murder. And more importantly, as him being the murderer. But this dream...
he wasn't sure how it happened, but his wife found herself within it- and when he woke up, covered in sweat from a quick, mid-day nap, he sighed and smoothed a hand down his face.
It was only just a dream. And he closed his eyes and tried to swallow back the knot.
The nightmares had not gone unnoticed. Kerr took in everything with the silent, sharp gaze of a hawk studying its prey. He never commented; he simply took the nightmares in stride and left Calent to his own thoughts.
The wound itself was healing, and the fever that had plagued Calent the first week in the small cabin had also become better. Yet, the man's condition seemed to deteriorate. It was puzzling -- but it earned him no sympathy.
As Calent started awake, Kerr rose and almost nonchalantly deposited some hempen strands in his lap. "We need more rope," he said simply, "And now that you're awake, you can help."
Settling back down on his stool, he returned to winding his own hemp into a tight rope that would, with any luck, survive the conditions they were about to travel through.
"Your nightmares are getting worse."
Calent stared down at the hemp on his lap then lifted his green eyes over to Kerr. He said nothing on his comment about the nightmares before turning his gaze away, focusing his eyes back to the object on his lap.
"A man ruling a country has many reasons to have restless nights," he commented, and set to work, mimicking what Kerr was doing.
"I imagine so," Kerr responded neutrally enough. "I didn't mean to pry." He had, in fact, meant to do just that. "I had only noticed that your dreams do your health no favors, your grace. They seem more taxing than the wound and fever you took falling from a cliff." Which was to say, they were no small, mundane matter. "And I wondered if there wasn't something I should know."
Calent frowned and cast the man a hard look.
"There is nothing to discuss," he told him shortly. "If you were in my position, you'd understand the complexities of politics and what I deal with every day of my life. Keeping our country and people safe is no easy task."
And he sighed now and looked down.
"We're at war.... and the country needs healing."
"Ah," Kerr answered, in no way discouraged or offended by Calent's tone. On the contrary, the single voiced syllable seemed to both understand and agree. "War is a heavy burden to bear." Especially when you bore it alone... "And I imagine you are anxious to be away from here."
He sighed softly to himself. He must be getting soft -- he was actually starting to like the moody sovereign of Connlaoth. He had his flaws (didn't they all?) but they weren't so different. Of course, were Calent to find out who he shared his respite with, things might be a little different...
Kerr himself had thrived in the chaos created by the war and pursuit of his brethren...but his goals were very different from those of most men. It had been a long time since he cared about anyone other than himself and his vengeance, so it didn't matter how many people -- mages and non-mages alike -- fell as long as he could carry on. It wasn't an honorable way to live, but he had, long ago, given up the ideals that had made him what he was today...and that was another reason why it was so disconcerting to find himself considering Calent's plight.
"If you'll forgive the speculation -- I am, after all, a simple soldier, your grace... If you want the country to heal, you'll have to unite them against an even worse threat." He gave his head a slight shake, knowing, of course, that the presentation of a bigger threat -- whatever that happened to be -- was a gamble. "But that, of course, could have the opposite effect as well."
Calent took all of this in before closing his eyes and releasing a long sigh.
"There is no worse threat than being the enemy among my own people. I will be happy if this war can end before my reign, but for now, I am too exhausted, and thoughts on this are making my head hurt worse."
And though he always feared sleep, he was feeling too exhausted to care as he closed his eyes and simply listened to the crackle of the fire.
It was several weeks later that the Hellvion Castle finally appeared, peeking through the snow like a welcome beacon after so long in the freezing wilds with minimal supplies. Kerr's caution had been necessary; struggling through the heavy, blowing snow was not an easy task, and a man in Grand Duke's original condition would have stood no chance. His preparations, too, helped a great deal after they left their little hut...and the Grand Duke would be cold but no worse for wear upon his arrival.
"There's the castle there," Kerr pointed out, a bit unnecessarily. "I assume you can find your way from here, Your Grace." He tilted his head in a simple bow. "I will be going to town for supplies." He gestured in the other direction to the town outside of Hellvion's walls. "So here is where we part ways."
With a nod, the two parted ways, continuing on their paths of destiny-
One to the North, to the castle, and to politics...
And the other?
Who was to say. The Grand Duke was none the wiser on what plots Kerr had in tow. But that was hardly of his concern. Once things were as settled as they could be with the Hellvion court, he tried his best to hurry back home.