Chapter 6: A Stand is Made
‘When a beast hides its claws for too long, it often forgets that it has them. Not only does this beast need to be reminded of its natural weapon, but it also needs to be trained in its use.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume II: Second).
1
As the Parthans journeyed through the forests which had once welcomed them into Utyirth, they contemplated the strange development in their situation. In just a short period of time they discovered that Utyirth was in fact where their people came from, the lost art of the Unnamed Blade, and a race of sentient hounds hidden to the world.
Yet the lands were marked with the taint of corruption, the very same taint which robbed Nosgard of much during the Council’s reign. For millennia the people of Nosgard had been living in a constant struggle for existence, with two known civil wars which all but tore the peoples of the continent apart.
Unlike Nosgard, Utyirth had remained in darkness, with no Demigod to come to their aid as Servak came to Nosgard’s. But the Empire, an entity embodying the ideals of the Demigod Emperor Servak, has come to Utyirth in the form of ten Parthans.
“Before we convince the Midlanders about joining our cause and taking action,” Hephaestion thought aloud while under the cover of a dying light, “we need to understand how they think.” The accumulated snow crumbled beneath his feet, sounding each step he took.
“Hold your caravan of thoughts for a moment, captain.” Thalia stopped humming and started waving loosely with her hands, playfully accentuating her natural gestures.
“What is it?”
“This needs to stop. It’s been driving me insane,” Thalia said. “You keep stating the obvious and ranting on and on about highly specific and irrelevant issues. Just think your point through and work your magic, captain.” It was not the first time she made such a remark to Hephaestion, not even since his inheritance of Pertinax’s position.
Hephaestion took but a moment to think of Thalia’s comment before deciding that it would be best to ignore her entirely. “We need to understand what has been happening with the raids and if all the Midland villages suffer from such attacks. We know the raiders are Scylds, but we do not know why they raid them. If we know the answers to these questions, perhaps it would be possible to convince them that the benefit of uniting with the Scands would far outweigh the risks.”
“They are simple traders and farmers,” Ganis said. “They will find an excuse to avoid confrontation.” She held her unlit pipe in her hand, forgetting that she had run out of heaven’s weed and that it would be impossible to enjoy it.
“If this cycle continues, there will be no more Midland villages. Their choice is simple, unite or get conquered.”
“What a ruthless world they live in,” Ganis noted. She looked at her pipe then stowed it away in her cloak.
“My only concern is that Naa’tas might have nothing to do with these raids,” Hephaestion said. “If this is true and he is not to blame, then perhaps we are wasting our time with this plan.”
While on the march, Ninazu kept plucking herbs he found of interest. He was still testing different potions for Ganis’ request. “The villagers have been robbed of family, wealth, knowledge, happiness, and much more. It should not be difficult to convince them to stand against their oppressors. If we fail it would not be because of their weakness or cowardice, but because of our incompetence.”
Hephaestion looked at the twins. Percival and Dindrane had been listening in silence, following them closely. “Are you certain you can convince them?”
“Yes, captain. We know people well enough to know how to move them,” Dindrane said. She had a bruise on her lip from a sparring session she had earlier with her brother. Yet he himself managed to conclude the event unscathed.
“Once again we put all our trust in you two.”
“And once again they will succeed, captain,” Ganis said. “When it comes to knowing people, I believe they are second to none.”
2
Days of searching the forests for survivors from Hearthdale told nothing to the Parthans of the villagers’ fate. It was unsettling for Hephaestion, to be so certain yet find no evidence leading him to a decisive conclusion. His mind wandered to impossible outcomes.
Yet the search eventually led them to Hearthdale, where they found the villagers behave as if calamity had never struck. New scaffolds were raised and repairs undergoing. Villagers worked, smiled and laughed as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Once the six Parthans walked into the village, with every face turning towards them, their minds started to wander even further. Why did Hearthdale still stand?
What trick is this? Ganis thought.
The inhabitants greeted the Parthans and welcomed them back warmly. Percival and Dindrane, beloved as they were, had the bulk of the attention. The raid, it seemed, had never occurred.
“What is this?” Ganis broke the silence.
“A grand joke,” Thalia said. She looked at the sky and pointed two fingers upwards, addressing her god.
“Ganis,” Hephaestion said, “what would be the first structure you would strike at during a raid?”
“The heart of the village. It’s the quickest way to spread panic, or at least we were told as such in the Peacekeeper Core.”
“Then explain to me why the Heart of the Hearth still stands?” He pointed at the building.
Ganis observed the structure, it was where all government took place, and wondered. “No good reason comes to my mind.”
“Do you think the Hearthwarden is involved,” Thalia asked.
“They returned immediately after the assault,” Ninazu said. The villagers were fond of growing their own gardens to decorate their houses, and gardens needed tending. Some of their plants, Ninazu had learnt, would start wilting in a day or two if they were not tended to.
A woman whom Thalia recognized, an engaging customer who would often come to her for repairs, approached. “Hail,” Thalia said.
The woman curtsied in response. She wore a long brown dress which dragged on the ground as she walked, brushing dirt which blended in well with the color of the fabric. Like most of the women in Hearthdale, a tight corset, which would be loosened during work, held her breasts in place. Yet in spite of her groomed attire, her feet were bare.
“What happened to your shoes?” Thalia asked the middle-aged woman.
“I gave them to one of the orphans who tore her own. They are a little big for her, but we managed to tighten them with some well-placed hay inside.” She laughed. “The little child looks rather strange with such big shoes.”
“Tell me, Lady Solea, what happened here?” Thalia asked. She finally remembered the name of her former customer – a mental effort well spent.
Hephaestion interrupted, patience running low, “Where is the Hearthwarden?”
“Staring at you.” She paused for a moment. “I am the new Hearthwarden.”
“What happened to your predecessor?” Hephaestion asked.
“He is no longer with us.” She hesitated. “I am ashamed to admit it, but my predecessor thought it best to keep some secrets from being revealed to you. He was untrusting to strangers, undoubtedly a result of his own experiences as a child.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed during the assault.” She gestured at her chest. “A spear hit him right in the heart while he attempted to guide some of the villagers into the hidden underground bunkers he had prepared to ensure the safety of whoever could make it there in the event of an assault.”
Then it was not the Hearthwarden who planned the assault. He might not have been involved as I suspected. Ganis continued to cynically assess her situation. Everything was too ordinary to be ordinary.
“He died a hero then.”
The Hearthwarden nodded.
“The secrets he hid from us,” Ganis said. “How inclined are you to reveal them?”
“Completely inclined. You h
ave stood by us like no other stranger did. Your leader, Pertinax, sacrificed himself to rescue the orphans. He will be remembered in Hearthdale, and it would be an insult to his memory if we did not take you in as our own.” She looked around her, scanning for anyone that was close enough to hear them converse.
“Some of the villagers still believe it isn’t wise to reveal our secrets to strangers. I think it would be safer to talk in the Heart of the Hearth. Seek me out after you rest. For now, I have to tend to the orphans.” Before leaving, the Hearthwarden felt compelled to explain her haste and paused for a moment to add, “The most difficult time for an orphan is just after losing their parents, and many parents were lost during the last incursion.” She administered a gentle curtsey and walked away towards the Heart of the Hearth.
No one would help the Parthans as much as the Hearthwarden, and they knew that it would be wisest to seek her out before they continued their investigation. The Parthans, as tough as they were, needed rest and food. Once more, they found themselves heading to the local inn.
“It has been a long time, Stain Logain.” Percival shouted to the innkeeper as soon as he entered.
The man was busy explaining to one of his new waitresses where everything was, pointing as he spoke. Percival’s interruption demanded his attention. He looked around, turning as quickly as his fat body allowed him, smiled, and said, “My friend.” He rushed to hug Percival.
Percival took a deep breath, knowing that the man had a heavy hand, crushing him whenever any sort of physical contact was made. He grimaced in pain while being consumed by the massive arms.
“How have you been?” Stain Logain winked at him and threw a nod towards the new waitress. “What do you think of the new girl? She is not married, you know.”
Percival tiptoed and leaned to Stain Logain’s side to get a look at the shy waitress, averting her eyes as Percival dissected her. “She’s quite pleasant, but you know in my line of business starting a family becomes rather difficult.”
“Well, at least think about it.” He patted Percival on the back, then looked at the other Parthans, nodding to them as he greeted. “How can I help you today?”
“Warm beds and hot food,” Hephaestion said.
3
“Thalia, why have you not tried to craft Unnamed Blades? You had the chance to do so in Scandur.” Ganis waited patiently, looking at Hearthdale from whatever view her opaque window allowed her, for Thalia to wake up. As a moroi, she seldom slept as deeply or for as long as the others, a habit which gave her much time to think.
The artisan rubbed her blue eyes to lift the sleepy haze upon them. “What torture. Asking me such hard questions just as I wake.” she lifted the warm sheets from her semi-naked body, a luxury only afforded when sleeping amidst four walls and the company of allies.
Thalia sat on the edge of the coarse yellow bed cover and ran her fingers through her untied yellow hair, adding, “You really want to know.” She reached under the pillow at the far end of the bed, stretching her body, and produced a brown leather strap to tie her hair with.
Binding her shining yellow hair, she said, “I haven’t decided yet if eternal life is a curse or a blessing. These blades present me with a moral dilemma.”
“You’re starting to sound like Hephaestion now. Besides, I thought your faith in Pax should guide such choices.”
Thalia smiled. “So did I.”
“Do you think we should meddle with the affairs of Utyirth?” Ganis withdrew from the window. Her eyes fell on Thalia as she walked towards the door, standing by it; waiting for her to respond.
“We Parthans don’t like this, you know. For many decades we were forced to bear arms for someone else’s cause, never our own, really. All we really long for is peace.” She looked at Ganis, eyes nostalgic for a time they never saw.
“And Pax gives you hope that one day this dream would come to be.”
Thalia nodded. “I doubt that a weapon would be fitting for the realization of such dream. The craft of the Unnamed Blade does not rest well with my heart, but one day, I fear, it will be forced upon me.”
4
Dawn rose, a good time to visit the Hearthwarden, Hephaestion judged. Ganis decided to join Hephaestion on his visit, a wish he had no intention of stifling. The others, he thought, could use some more rest, knowing the burden they would shoulder in the days to come.
The night guard’s shift was coming to an end and the poorly equipped watchman, partly stripped from the equipment Thalia had made for them, eagerly awaited to be relieved. In his wait, he recognized two approaching visitors. “Pleasant night and warm day,” the guard greeted.
Ganis had not heard this greeting before and knew not how to respond. During her earlier visit, she had busied herself with finding creative ways to avoid revealing her secret to the others, wasting any opportunity she had to familiarize herself with the local custom.
Though Ganis’ curiosity did not prevent her from completely ignoring local customs, and she took careful note of the outfits the villagers wore. “What happened to your uniforms?”
The man hesitated for a moment, forgetting that the new Hearthwarden had given them no orders to secrecy. “I’m afraid you are not privy to such information.”
Ganis grunted, hand falling on her blade instinctively.
Hephaestion stopped her with an abrupt gesture from his right hand, palm down. “Has she given you any orders to keep such things from us?”
“No, captain Hephaestion.” The guard knew his name yet not Ganis’. She did not appreciate the sentiment.
“Then, I believe, the decision to not trust us is entirely yours.”
The guard eyed Ganis wearily - she did not seem to him to be in a tolerant mood. He swallowed in an attempt to water his dry throat, and said, “Apologies. We lost much of our equipment during the last raid to the looters. It is why we have been keen on keeping the quality of our craft poor. This way, we believe, the looters won’t be interested in taking them.”
“Is the Hearthwarden awake yet?” Hephaestion asked, looking at Ganis as if asking her to remain quiet.
“She should be. I’ll inform her of your presence at once. Should I deliver any message?”
“Just tell her—“
The Hearthwarden opened the door to the Heart of the Hearth, her new home, and said, “Please, captain, come in.” She then looked at the guard, smiling, and said, “Finnigan, the captain and his retinue are our guests. Please let them in immediately next time they come.”
The guard nodded, seeming to sink in his crude coat of arms as he did so.
On their way in, Ganis glanced at the guard intensely. He broke eye contact far before she did.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” The Hearthwarden insisted that her guests would enter first, in spite of Hephaestion’s reluctance to do so.
She wore a different dress similar to the one she had worn the previous day, save for a small stitching on the shoulders, and covered her delicate soft feet with a shiny pair of heeled shoes, which loudly tapped whenever she walked on her wooden floor.
While Hephaestion and the Hearthwarden exchanged pleasantries, idle talk to establish rapport, Ganis scanned the interior. It was a busy home, with many unnecessary pieces of furniture for housing one person. The wooden planks used to build it were carved with floral markings seeming to be inspired by native plants the villagers were exposed to. Cloth and wool covered almost all furniture, yet there was nearly no leather.
“Ganis,” she said, gaining the immediate attention of the moroi, “I never got a chance to thank you for distracting the raiders long enough for the orphans to escape.”
Ganis smiled and nodded. She then looked at Hephaestion, with her eyes asking him to break the uncomfortable silence which prevailed.
“Forgive me, Hearthwarden, but I do not seek to disturb your breakfast.” Hephaestion waved at the table prepared with cheeses, jams, honey, and a variety of local pastries. It was too much for one person alone.
br /> The Hearthwarden laughed, a feminine laugh coupled with a bit of shyness conveyed by the reddening of her pale cheeks. “You cannot possibly expect a Lady to eat all of this by herself, captain. I was hoping you would join me.”
“Nothing would please me more.” Hephaestion pulled a chair for the Hearthwarden to sit. After the Hearthwarden took the seat, he repeated the gesture looking at Ganis, hoping that she would join, but she remained standing, ignoring the invitation entirely. He took the seat for himself.
“Will you not join us?” She asked of Ganis.
“I have other pressing matters to tend to.”
The Hearthwarden hummed. She was growing frustrated by her many failed attempts to connect with Ganis. “Then let me start by explaining the nature of these raids.”
The two Parthans listened carefully, studying the words as they were produced to reflect upon them later. Ganis resisted the urge of producing a parchment and taking notes, a habit of hers from the days she spent as a Peacekeeper.
“Every four seasons the Scylds launch a series of raids on the Midland villages. We are not always targeted, but lately we seem to have been a focus of their attention. It is a cycle.”
“They kept the Heart of the Hearth intact. They clearly do not intend to destroy the Midland villages,” Hephaestion said. He reached out to a jug of juice and poured some, first to the Hearthwarden then to himself.
“We do not know the exact purpose of these raids, but we are well aware of the consequences. They seem to target the orphanages always, taking the children first, and then they loot weapons, armor, clothing and tools, only ones of good quality though.”
“What about the killings?”
“Seems to be random.” She took Hephaestion’s plate and filled it with butter, a tablespoon of thick honey, and two slices of fresh bread. “Are you certain you don’t want any, Ganis?”
Ganis shook her head.
“Every once in a while we get a Hearthwarden who believes that it is best to fight back, but whenever we do, they strike even harder and kill more of us. The safest course of action so far was to note when they arrive and hide until they are done.”
“Why do they keep the Heart untouched?” Hephaestion asked.
“Some of us believe that it is protected by the gods, but no one truly knows. Whoever or whatever is kept inside remains untouched.” She paused for a moment, distracted by two birds playing just outside her window. “We tried to cooperate once, to make an agreement and pay them for leaving us be. It did nothing but aggravate them. They aren’t willing to do it any other way.”
“Why not just leave? Find an isolated spot in the forest nearby and build a new village?”
“Hearthdale is our home, captain. I do not know the custom of your people, but here in Utyirth we seldom leave our homes for long. It is where we belong. Yet I believe that this tradition has doomed us to the fate of being at the mercy of the Scylds. I wish things were different.”
The Hearthwarden and Hephaestion continued to eat in silence, both contemplating the situation of Hearthdale and enjoying the food.
“It seems that this is all for now. I must excuse myself,” Ganis said. She looked at Hephaestion who offered her his approval with merely a glance, then left the two to finish their breakfast in each other’s company.
5
At Hephaestion’s room, the largest and most lavish room at the inn, the Parthans convened. Hephaestion had spent the bulk of the day with the Hearthwarden, Percival and Dindrane talked to the merchants and villagers, while the others focused on their own projects, Ganis, Ninazu and Thalia contributing the least to the investigation.
“At least the Hearthwarden is not keeping secrets from us.” Hephaestion stood while the others chose to sit. He often liked standing up and walking around when discussing a mission, it helped him think.
“I can say the same about most villagers,” Dindrane said. She stood next to her brother.
“At least those who we talked to, sister,” Percival corrected. He held a thick red string in his hand, a gift from the new waitress who offered it as part of the local courtship tradition, which he toyed with.
“The Hearthwarden’s story claims that the Scylds have been raiding the Midland villages for some time,” Hephaestion said. “They seem to be interested in looting, both people and tools, more than showing their strength. Have you found anything contrary to this?” He looked at the twins.
“No,” Dindrane said. “Yet we did discover that some of the villagers were willing to take a stand against the intruders. Not all of them feared a confrontation.”
“Whenever they fought in the past, the Scylds retaliated with a bigger show of force. It has never turned out to be in their favor. I would like to think that an armed confrontation would work, but we would need to get a large army to do so. The Midland villages will have to be sought out and convinced.”
“I agree,” Ganis said. “Without them they will be hit even harder the next time, a major hindrance for both us and the villagers.”
“The looting explains their reliance on primitive tools,” Thalia said. “Even the few well-equipped guards who resisted fell without much of a fight.”
“Do you think you can convince the Midland villages to join the fight?” Hephaestion asked of the twins once more.
“It would be a difficult thing to do, yet we do have a great trump card,” Percival said, winking at Dindrane to continue.
“The Scands, captain, are our trump card,” said Dindrane. “I have not told anyone that the Scands have agreed to march against the Scylds with a combined army of Highborn and Midlanders, yet I have hinted at the prospect. The villagers seemed to be more trusting of the Scands, who have mostly remained away from their lands, than we thought. Our chances of convincing them to join the fight, with the support of Scandur, are notable. I’d bet on it.”
Hephaestion took a moment to think. He started walking back and forth while saying, “I will talk to the Hearthwarden and see if she would be willing to help us convince the villagers to head south and seek shelter in Scandur until the Scyld threat is dealt with. My conversation with her led me to believe that it will be more difficult to convince the villagers to leave their homes than to fight the Scylds.
“While I work on convincing Hearthdale, Percival and Dindrane will head to the other Midland villages.” He looked at them, and continued, “You will say that the villagers of Hearthdale have already decided to temporarily move to Scandur while they prepare an army to match on Scyldur.
Hephaestion then looked at Thalia, “With the help of the local smiths, Thalia will start preparing the tools needed to arm the new combined force. Use whatever tools the local blacksmiths are willing to supply you with, and buy the rest with the oboi we have left. Hide the new tools in the Heart of the Hearth. I will make the necessary arrangements with the Hearthwarden.
“We cannot rely on expecting the raid to happen in the usual pattern, so act as if time is against us. Work as quickly as you can to prepare the villagers, and start sending the willing ones to Scandur immediately. Once we have enough tools and villagers ready we will send them both to Scandur in caravans.
“It will be difficult to maintain secrecy for our plan, so our best chance would be to move quickly and rush our actions. We do not know if the Scylds have any spies scattered within the Midland villages or even Scandur, although I doubt that they are so resourceful.” Hephaestion stopped while staring from the window, taking a deep breath and pocketing both his hands.
“How much of this plan do you intend to disclose to the Hearthwarden?” Ganis asked.
“All of it. Tomorrow you and I seek her out and find out how willing she is to join us, but for now it is time to retire.”
6
Early the following day, Hephaestion and Ganis headed to the Heart of the Hearth to visit the Hearthwarden as they had planned. The same guard who had stood on duty during Ganis’ previous visit greeted them, “Pleasant night and warm day.” br />
This time Ganis was prepared. “May your days grow warmer and nights calmer.”
Hephaestion smiled at her and said, “I see you have been mingling with the locals.”
Ganis nodded, smiling back.
The guard stepped aside, allowing them entry through the short fence which marked the borders of the Hearthwarden’s home. Hephaestion then paused to ask, “May I–”
Again the Hearthwarden appeared and interrupted him. “Please come in.”
Once more breakfast was neatly prepared on a table with four seating places. On the counter a few more plates and utensils were ready for anyone else to join them. The same food was presented, save for the juice which was replaced with another local flavor.
“Will you be joining us today?” She looked at Ganis and gestured at one of the empty seats, the one nearest to the window and with the best view.
“Not today, Hearthwarden.”
A look of disappointment quickly appeared then vanished from the Hearthwarden’s face. She directed her gaze at Hephaestion and offered him the seat.
Hephaestion moved towards the intended chair and pulled it out, gesturing for her to take it. She obliged and allowed him to seat her, blushing at the gesture.
Ganis was amused by the flirtatious exchanges and remarks shared between the two. For some time they engaged in idle talk, mostly compliments, and seemed to forget the situation they were in. Hephaestion setting aside his duties and calculating self, while the Hearthwarden acting like a young lady, in spite of her age, looking for a suitable husband.
“Ahem!” Ganis hoped she would gain the attention of Hephaestion and their host, and gained more than what she expected.
“My apologies. I tend to forget that you are a busy folk.” The Hearthwarden grabbed Hephaestion’s plate and prepared it with some butter, a purple jam, and two loafs of bread. She handed him the plate, carefully letting go only when she was certain he had a firm grip on it, and said, “I didn’t expect you to join me today.”
“Your table tells another story, Hearthwarden,” Ganis said. Noticing Hephaestion’s shocked look, she realized how impolite her comment was. “I apologize. It’s been some time since I have been surrounded with civilized folk.” Hephaestion’s eyes widened even more, a feature Ganis thought was impossible after his previous stare. “I did not—”
“Oh I’m certain our customs are strange to you,” the Hearthwarden interrupted. “I hope I haven’t been rude.”
I appreciate that, Ganis thought. She remained quiet and still, concerned about attracting even the slightest attention.
Hephaestion then took the jug of juice and poured some, first for his host then himself. “We have thought about a way to help your people escape from the cycle of looting we spoke of yesterday.”
She looked at him intently, interested in the prospect of a life without fear or disruption.
“We have a plan...” Hephaestion continued to explain to the Hearthwarden the plan he and the other Parthans discussed the night before. He did not keep any detail from her, even returning to the ones he had forgotten about after he explained the general intention he had from their plan. “…What do you think?”
She reached out to the bread - it has grown cold yet maintained its freshness. She spread some butter and then some jam on it and took a small, delicate bite, taking her time to chew in silence as she considered the offer. “Are you certain we can trust the Scands?”
He looked at Ganis, she offered an assuring nod. He returned to look at the Hearthwarden and said, “Without doubt. Yet I cannot say the same about the Midland villages, including those of Hearthdale.”
She looked at his plate, it remained untouched. “Is the food not to your liking?”
“Not at all.” Hephaestion quickly took a loaf of bread and dipped it on the jam that has been resting on his plate, taking a messy bite as some of it fell on his chin and vest.
The Hearthwarden laughed. “Please, no need to feel embarrassed. I had no intention of doing so.”
Hephaestion wiped his chin with a clean white handkerchief. It emerged smudged in purple from the messy endeavor.
Ganis suppressed a smile in an attempt to maintain her air of seriousness.
“Well,” the Hearthwarden said, “the people of Forhaven and Crest Valley would certainly be interested in such an arrangement. They are a folk rich with fighting spirit and quick to be offended, but I do hope your people would be diplomatic when addressing them.”
“I have absolute trust in Percival and Dindrane to address them accordingly.”
“Then you can count on them to join.” She rubbed her chin. “I can’t say for certain how the people of North Forest will react. They are close to Scyldur and are often the ones quickest to suffer from any resistance. As for the fishermen of Salt Stream, they could be persuaded if you promise them something in return for the risk they will bear. Perhaps you can convince Thalia to make them some better nets; it will bear great weight with them.”
“What about the folk of Riverfell and Dawndale?” Ganis asked. She remembered once overhearing a conversation between two merchants heading to the villages of Riverfell and Dawndale, but did not know much about them other than their names and how hard they haggled.
“Riverfell and Dawndale,” the Hearthwarden said, “are two of the smaller towns in the Midland villages. We do not trust them much, but I never knew why. I would approach them with caution. There are other smaller villages, numbering less than a thousand each, and their folk might be interested in the prospect of taking a stand, but even if you convince them, they will not be able to contribute with much. If time is against you, then I would suggest you seek them out last.”
Hephaestion, finished with his plate, served himself some more bread and honey, hoping to make up for any offence he might have made earlier. “But first we need to convince your people.”
“Not all of them will agree. The villagers will be divided on the subject, and certainly some of them will choose to stay. They will be the ones who suffer the most. I can assure you, though, that the remaining orphans will be sent to Scandur. As the Hearthwarden, I decide their fate.” She helped herself with another serving of juice, but only half-filled the cup. “At noon I’ll assemble the town to inform them of your suggestion. It will be up to your people to convince them. I still have not proven myself as Hearthwarden to be of much influence.”
7
As promised by the Hearthwarden, the villagers of Hearthdale were gathered by noon. The town had not been prepared for public speeches, and the Parthans had to use tables from the inn as a makeshift podium to stand on so that they could be seen by the crowd of a few thousands.
Two wooden rectangular tables were placed adjacent to one another to serve as a long rectangular stand. Hephaestion, the Hearthwarden, and the two twins stood atop them.
Facing the inhabitants of Hearthdale, their leader presented, “I have gathered you here today to give our friends a chance to offer you a choice. I ask of you to hear them out completely before deciding on whatever course of action you prefer.”
Hephaestion took a few steps forward and stood at the very edge of the tables, his weight countered by Percival’s to prevent it from tipping over. “Good citizens of Hearthdale, your Hearthwarden speaks true. In the past we stood by you. Our leader, Pertinax the Second, sacrificed his life so yours could be spared.
“He believed that the citizens of Hearthdale and all the Midland villages are worth this sacrifice, and so do we.” He looked at Percival and Dindrane, both nodding in turn, and continued. “Year after year you have suffered at the hands of the raiding Scylds, a people with no respect to your way of life.
“They take your children, kill your friends, and steal the labor of your hard work.” He waved a finger at the crowd; pointing at random villagers seeming to react the most. “When will it end? When will your lives be yours once more?
“I will tell you when.” He twisted his hand to form a fist. “It en
ds when you will it to end. After the assault we ventured south, to the lands of the Highborn.”
The crowd started whispering among one another.
“They were not the most hospitable people, but neither were they the most unreasonable. We proved ourselves to them just as we proved ourselves to you. As I stand before you now, hoping to convince you to better your lives, I stood before them and spoke my mind.
“The Highborn bear no love to the Scylds, or to what they represent. They are a proud and strong people, and they do not prey on the weak—”
“The Scands are butchers,” a voice from amidst the crowd interrupted.
“When was the last time they attacked you?” asked Hephaestion.
No one answered. The crowd burst in another bout of whispering, but no one spoke out.
“As I said,” Hephaestion continued, “the Highborn bear no love for the Scylds and have decided to take arms against them. Their leader, a man by the name of Naa’tas, is our enemy. That makes them our enemy too. We will take measures to fight and bring the justice of our Empire upon them, but seeing that you too have an account to settle with the Scylds, I see no reason why we should not join our resources.”
“And how do we fight them?” a villager asked from amidst the crowd.
Hephaestion could not find the man, but he knew from where he spoke and directed his gaze towards him. “First you must seek shelter in Scandur where you would be most protected. There we will make certain that whoever of you volunteers to fight is armed and trained sufficiently to march with us on Scyldur.”
“The people of Hearthdale have not left their homes for dozens of generations,” another voice spoke. “Now you want us to abandon all what our predecessors lived and died for?”
“The Heroes do not ask of you such thing.” The Hearthwarden moved besides Hephaestion. Dindrane countered the impact her weight had on the imbalanced makeshift podium accordingly. “Look at how little progress we made during our lifetime.” She gestured at the buildings. “The mill remains unchanged since I was a child. It was repaired on several occasions, true, but still produces no more flour than it did back then.
“The local smithy is even smaller now than when I was a child. Last time it burnt down I remember we held a meeting very much like this one to decide on how small it can be not to attract the attention of the Scylds when they next raided.
“Our temple, the holiest of our buildings, has been burnt four times since then. I remember the last Hearthwarden, my predecessor, deciding that it would be best if we kept it as a pile of rubble. See, villagers of Hearthdale, the work of the past generations has been destroyed long ago. This is not the same Hearthdale they knew.”
Silence prevailed in the crowd.
Hephaestion, with nothing left to add, extended a helping hand to the Hearthwarden so she could descend from the stage. The Parthans followed accordingly, knowing that their work was done. The villagers of Hearthdale would, at least, consider the prospect of joining with the Highborn. It was all Hephaestion could hope for.
8
The Parthans’ plan was set in motion. Percival and Dindrane had organized the townsfolk into groups to travel to the different villages and convince them to join the fight. Each village would be approached with proposals that would match their interests.
The twins themselves joined the travelers, separated to cover as many villages as possible in a carefully planned route suggested by the local traveling merchants acquainted with the lands.
There was one part of the plan, however, that remained a mystery, Scyldur and the Scylds. Hephaestion knew that in order to best fight an enemy, it was crucial to understand them, a difficult task without the presence of Percival and Dindrane, the most skilled information gatherers among them.
“We must travel to Scyldur,” Hephaestion said. The four remaining Parthans, Ganis, Ninazu, Thalia and himself, convened in his designated quarter at the local inn. He walked back and forth in the cramped space.
“Are you certain Naa’tas will be there?” Ganis asked. She did suspect him to be at the heart of the conflict in Utyirth, but never had proof.
Hephaestion wandered. “I am certain that both the Highborn the Midlanders would fare better confronting the Scylds now when the odds are not so tilted against them. I cannot say that I have the same confidence about Naa’tas’ whereabouts.”
Holding the hilt of the sheathed Progenitor Blade, Ganis remembered that it was his will to guide the events into this direction. Helping Eos did more than lend his abilities to Ganis. It gave the Parthans an opportunity; one that they were determined to fully take advantage of.
“It is a mere coincidence that our interests do not conflict with either the Highborn or the Midland villages.” Hephaestion said.
“A rather convenient coincidence,” Ganis said.
“Who’s to spy on our adversaries”, Thalia asked.
“Ganis, Ninazu and myself. We need you to stay here and start the necessary preparation to ensure that our army is equipped when the time comes for battle.”
Thalia nodded in agreement. She had grown tired from traveling and welcomed the opportunity to remain in Hearthdale.
“I could go alone,” Ganis offered. “It would not be the first time I engage in such a mission.”
Hephaestion eyed her intently, brushing his curly brown hair, and said, “We all trust in your skills and know well enough about your past to understand that you possess the necessary training for the task. Yet this does not change the fact that two sets of eyes are better than one - and three sets even better.
“Not to mention that we do not know what awaits us in Scyldur. With Percival and Dindrane going about recruiting the villages to our cause, there is no guarantee that word of our actions will not reach Scyldur by the time we are there.”
“Your words speak true, captain.”
“Anyone has anything else to add?” Hephaestion scanned the three Parthans. They offered no response. “Then prepare to travel at daybreak.”