"Servant of Empire" - Ch 14

The following morning we all gathered to look over Wynter’s remains. The hand still twitched as though he had been drinking fezzal-juice before the end, but the body seemed just as flat as it had been the day before. We solemnly marched ourselves to the temple of Muir, the goddess of forests and regrowth, to submit his remains for cremation. It was a tiny place, nestled among the trees, only a few wooden pews and a rough-hewn stone altar.

The priest we found there was a fairly young man, with dark hair and a bright face, by name of Emmet Mikull. When we described the situation, the priest wept a bit – he had known Wynter since childhood, and although the two had never been close friends, one cannot grow up in a town this size without knowing the other children.

“There is something askew with this body,” Emmet said, looking over Wynter’s remains. The hand twitched several times.

“Wonder how he figured that out,” Rendo whispered to me. I successfully stifled a bitter laugh.

“He has been dead far longer than the damage he suffered yesterday,” Nix told him. “But he kept going, pushing himself beyond limits to pursue the trolls that caused his family such grief.”

“He returned previously, then?” The priest asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Some months ago, and he has been rather single-minded in seeking out and punishing the ones who attacked his home.”

“Hmm,” the priest pondered. “It is not unheard of, but is extremely rare that someone could contain such purpose as to return from beyond the grave to finish it or avenge their murder. We call such things ‘Revenant.’”

I cocked my head. “Revenant?”

“A form of undead both self-aware and not inherently malignant to the living, as so many are.” He said. “The drive to return is often to complete some form of unfinished business, often revenge or a dire family need.”

Revenant…I’d never heard of such a thing before. Strange to me that my people had never run into something like this, but I suppose our laws denied the opportunity for such things to remain for long before being destroyed out of hand.

Voruscans, and particularly we Shadrim, were very quick to deal with the undead.

“The body must be burnt to complete the transition,” he said. “I will consecrate the remains afterward. One moment while I collect what I need.” With that, he walked into a back room, from which some clinking and shuffling came.

He returned a few moments later with a small jar of oil and some herbs. “Come with me,” he said, and led us through another arch to a large brazier with a rack over it. “We use this for cremations.”

Sered placed Wynter’s remains on the grating. The priest sprinkled various powders upon the body, and poured about a cup of the oil upon it as well.

We all stood back as he lit the fire beneath the body.

“We recognize the burden of purpose upon your soul, Wynter,” he said. “It drives you forward, and by the grace of Muir, you are freed of this purpose.”

He looked about at the rest of us grimly. “Are there any here who would take on this burden for your colleague?”

Almost simultaneously, Sered and Rendo said “Yes,” and each one stepped forward. The priest took a drop of oil from his jug and wiped it on their foreheads – Sered had to stoop to for him to reach. He mumbled a prayer over each one. I don’t know if it was a binding spell, but I did feel the whisper of power in the room as something moved between the body and the two of them. Wynter’s hand quieted, and became still, and the remainder of the ritual passed without notable incident. The corpse burned quickly, and with surprisingly little odor.

Afterwards, we filed back to the Green and quietly settled in with a round of drinks. Both Rendo and Nix toasted Wynter on his way and shared some funny stories of their time with him. Sered chimed in when it seemed appropriate. By midafternoon, the mood had brightened a bit, and we all started to consider what was to come.

We now had a mission before us.

Over the next couple of days, I found myself really missing having access to good brevare. The closest they had here was a very rough moonshine whiskey, hardly aged at all and clear in color. It was barely drinkable, more given to stripping paint in character than a beverage. After my first try with it, I stuck to local wine and beer. I hadn’t realized that I had established a form of tradition for myself – when travel or a mission was done, I wanted to sit and relax with a book and a proper drink…but here, few books existed and what there were, were in a language I didn’t understand. The drinks, not what I was accustomed to.

Another adjustment I’d have to make, I suppose.

We had three respondents to our posted notices. Two were young men from local farms who thought they could walk past us by faking knowledge, and we saw through them pretty quickly. The third was an interesting case…a foul-mouthed dwarf named Cannon, who we met quite by accident while having lunch at the Green. He got into a fight with Nix over something, no one is quite sure what, but when the dust settled he helped Nix up and got her a beer. Before the hour was up the two of them were singing some dirty sea shanty in Dwarvish and Nix was well on her way to being well-inebriated.

After we spoke for a while, it became clear that Cannon had been a guard for a caravan – just as I had hoped – that passed through Adelhome a couple weeks prior, and had missed its departure while hung over from a rough night. When he found out what we were up to, he was all smiles…he’d read our notice and had intended to look us up. It was just by chance he and Nix had gotten into a mixup.

So we signed him on provisionally as a guide and guard. He wasn’t so interested in becoming a member of the Wayfarers, but apparently as long as the pay was good he would stick it out. Apparently he was no slouch with a falchion, or at least so he claimed, so we stood to gain there.

The day we signed him on, I visited the local blacksmith – James MacPherson, was his name – for some extra supplies. Back in the Caern Jale my unit was always blunting blades or recovering arrows with shattered heads, so I’d grown into the habit of drawing extra supplies from the quartermaster before a mission. He didn’t react overly much when he saw I was Shadrim, which put me a little more at ease. While there, I noticed he had a rather extensive operation for a local town blacksmith – he was also something of an armorer and armsman, and had no less than three apprentices. He explained that the caravan trade was busy enough to support this amount of business, and apparently he’d been a smith for the army of Banner before retiring to this township. While we were talking, he mentioned he’d heard that I had helped in the defense of the town – I suppose that explained why my reception was warmer than I’d expected.

He said he knew what we were about, having spoken to Batilda, and she’d told him to extend any courtesy we required, for which I was very grateful. Probably a more likely reason for his welcome. He took my list and promised to deliver the supplies to the Green before nightfall.

When I reached Madam Madeline’s house, I climbed the few steps and parked my boots at the door. After double-checking that I wasn’t dragging any mud in on my tail, I went inside and up to my room. I found a small box at the foot of my door, tied with twine. Picking it up, I went in and sat myself down on the bed for a bit. Dinner wouldn’t be for another hour or so, so I had time to sit quietly and think.

I turned to the box, and opened the twine. Two small cookies were inside, made of oatmeal with some chopped fruit in them. I couldn’t help it, I grinned. Small kindnesses do that for me, I suppose.

“Mam said you helped fight off the invaders yesterday morning,” Timothy said from the hallway.

“I didn’t hear you coming,” I said. “Takes some stealth. Good job.”

“I know where the boards creak,” he said with a little pride. “Helps me get out at night.” He walked up and put his hand on the door-jam.

I motioned to the one chair in the room. “Maybe I should have you teach me that trick some time.” I wrapped my tail around my legs reflexively, a conversational pose.

“My secrets, I don’t tell,” he grinned as he sat down. “So did you?”

“Help?”

He nodded.

“Much as I was able. Are these from you?”

“No, Mam put them together this morning, but she did have me drop them off.” He looked up at me again. “Was there really a dragon?”

I nodded. I felt the grim expression fall on my face when I thought of the creature. “Stone dragon, yes.”

“Did it breathe fire?”

I shook my head. “Not all dragons do.”

“I thought they all did?”

“Dragons are strange things, they focus elemental power through them, kind of like places can be focuses. They lend themselves to their element. So the fire-breathers come from naturally fiery places, like volcanoes, while a dragon from the icy north might breathe frost.”

His eyes were wide. “Really?”

I nodded. “Though I sort-of have it backwards – the dragon is really the channel, the source, and the land around his home adopts the character of the dragon himself. So a fire-breather might live in a mountain, and over time the mountain and maybe the region around it will become barren and char. I don’t really know, but that’s what I understand. Might be the other way around.”

“So a stone dragon…what does it do?”

“Well, it was very tough, and when it breathed it was a blast of stones and chips – you can probably dig a few out of the side of the building where it was. Tomorrow morning go look there, you’ll see the sharp stones buried in the side of the houses there.”

He whispered, “Oooooh,” at the thought of having his own dragon-stones.

“Just be careful, I’m sure they’re still sharp.”

“I will. Can you tell me about the spiders?”

“They were big. Ugly, and vicious. I’m sure they were poison too, but thankfully I didn’t get bitten. Don’t touch them if the bodies are still there.”

“I knew one of the guards that died, Rory.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“Caught you doing something wrong?”

He nodded, looking confused. “I feel bad, but I feel good, and I feel bad for feeling good.”

I thought it over. “That’s natural. He was just doing his job, I’m sure. Try to remember him for being there to defend you all. He died for you all, that’s worth being thankful of.”

“I guess so. One of your friends died, didn’t he?”

I nodded, not wanting to really try to explain that Wynter was a colleague, and I didn’t know him well enough to call him friend.

“Are you sad?”

“A bit, yes. He’s gone, and we’ll miss his arm in a fight. It’s also sad to see someone die who really wanted to accomplish something, but couldn’t before the end.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Well, I think we’re going to go on a trip for a while. We want to find out who sent the dragon, and get them to stop attacking here.”

“Will you die?”

“I expect eventually, yes. Don’t we all?”

“I mean, will you die on this trip?”

“I hope not. Why so morbid?”

“My dad died on a trip.”

“I’m sorry. Well, let’s hope I don’t.”

“How are you going to find the one in charge?”

“We know there’s a source, someone pulling all the strings here, and we’re going to find him and if he won’t stop when we ask, well, we’re going to have a fight.”

He looked over at my weapons, leaning on the wall. “Are those magic?”

I glanced at the sword and bow. “They have some small enchantments on them, yes. Nothing grandiose. Better aim, that’s about all. Most important about them is that they’re built to channel my own magic, so I can use the spells I’ve learned with them and enhance what I’m doing.”

He cocked his head to the side. “So you’re magic?”

I shook my head. “I know some magic, that doesn’t make me magic. The stuff I know I learned while in our army – my things there are designed to work with that magic, makes me a better soldier.”

He nodded, looking like he understood. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to press it.

“Dinner’s almost ready. When are you going to leave?”

I thought about it. “Probably day after tomorrow, at this rate.”

“You’re coming back, right?”

I nodded. “Probably. When I do, I’ll tell you some stories. Shall we go eat?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Well, you should eat anyway. Helps you get big and strong.”

“I guess.”

“Let’s go. I need to eat if we’re going on a trip this week. Can’t be sure when the next meal is coming when you’re on travel. Besides, I need to say thanks to your Mam.” I hefted the box for emphasis.

We went downstairs, angling towards the smell of cooking, and landed in the kitchen. I helped set the table, while Madeline finished up a big pot of stew. A loaf of bread was on the table, and a tub of butter next to it.

“Get a jug of wine from the cellar, Tim,” she said. The boy vanished with a nod.

She glanced up at me. I was standing, looking for something to do.

“Sit down, it’ll be ready in a moment,” she said. “Thanks again for talking to him. He hasn’t had a grownup to talk to other than me for a while.”

“He seems a good kid.”

“Strange to hear that from one of you,” she tapped the excess off the stir-spoon and moved the pot to the table. A big ladel appeared and she began scooping stew into the bowls. “Lot of stories about your people, can’t recall one of them praising children. Eating them once or twice, yes.”

“We don’t really eat kids. Not often.” I said this last with a grin, which she matched with her own.

“That’s good. Would be a shame to lose him, he can be useful around the house now and then. Still, don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

“Heard you talking about the attack up there. You really going to try to track them down?”

I nodded. “Trolls are trying to move in here, or they’re behind it somehow. If we don’t do it, things will only get worse. If they have a dragon in service, I don’t think there’s anyone else in the area who can.”

Her mouth became thin. “Kill them all. Never knew if it was related, but my husband was killed two years ago, and it looked the work of trolls. Burn every last one of them.”

I nodded. I hoped we wouldn’t have to deal with an army of them, because they’d likely defeat us. We’d find a way to stop them. “We’ll do our best.”

Timothy arrived just then with the wine, and we poured into some nice glazed ceramic cups. We ate quietly at first.

“You said dragons are magic, right?” Timothy paused his spoon halfway to his mouth to get the question out. It resumed its journey after he asked.

I nodded. “They are natural connections between us and the elemental planes. The elements bleed through into our world through them, as well as some places. Dragons tend to be one of those things that lets the worlds connect that way, or maybe they’re a way the world expresses those links.”

He nodded, though I think I went over his head with a lot of that. “What about people?”

“What about them?” I shoveled a spoonful of stew into my mouth. It was quite good – heavy brown sauce with a lot of vegetables, and a good dose of beef. Spiced up with fresh rosemary, garlic and onions, I really didn’t want to stop eating.

“Can people be magic too?”

I shrugged. “People can learn magic, or be granted magic from outsiders. Some very few are born with magic, sorcerors.”

“But those are dangerous people, Tim,” Madeline said. “You never want to meet one.”

I nodded. “They are dangerous, yes.”

“They’re bad people?”

“Like all people, they can be good or bad, Timothy,” I responded. “But they don’t know how to control their power, and that makes them very dangerous to those around them, even if they’re good.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever seen someone with a bow or a crossbow, who didn’t know how to shoot yet?”

“Yeah, the guard trains with them every week. Some of them are really awful!”

I nodded. “When I get back, setting up a proper training regimen will be on my list. But they’re being trained, right? And they get better over time, yes?”

“Yes,” he admitted cautiously.

“So without training, would you let them use a bow on the job?”

“No way!”

“Why not?”

“They’d shoot their buddy or something.” He looked to his mother. “Jiri really would, he is that bad.” The local accent turned the “jay” sound in the name into a “yuh”.

“I’m sure he is,” she agreed in between bites.

“So,” I continued, “A sorcerer without training, even if he or she meant well, could be very dangerous for the same reason. Where I come from, when a sorcerer was found, there were only two things that could be done – we either brought them into the Caern Magistra, or we would be forced to kill them.”

Madeline’s face darkened, and I realized perhaps this wasn’t the best dinner conversation. “We have similar laws here, but we don’t have a Kairn whatever here.”

“I see,” I said. “I think when we get back I will look into seeing what I can do to help the guardsmen. If their training is as shoddy as you said, they could use my help.”

“But why kill the sorcerers? Why not just take away their powers or send them away or something?” Timothy wasn’t ready to let it drop, I guess.

“Well, their powers are part of them, you can’t just take them away. If we found one who was an adult and who had committed no crime, then if that person could demonstrate that their power was under control then we would let them go free. We’d keep track of them, of course, but they would be entitled to whatever status anyone else of their class was permitted.”

“Did you ever find any like that?”

I nodded. “I never visited the place myself, but on Suche, there was a northern kingdom named Arenville or Morgandelle or something like that, whose king had a daughter born to sorcery. He and his wife hid the girl’s powers as best they could, but eventually when they died they could no longer help conceal her…talents. She never received formal training, and around the time she came of age to become queen herself she lost control of her power and almost killed everyone in her kingdom. Froze the place solid for the better part of a week in the middle of summer, I think.”

“Whoa…” Timothy whispered.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Most sorcerors aren’t that powerful, but that kingdom was right on the nexus of several ley lines and had a very strong connection to elemental air, so her power was amplified greatly.”

“What happened to them? The kingdom, I mean.”

“Well, to my understanding she got herself under control and eventually with the help of some local stone pixies she self-taught control of it. She went on to rule for many years quite successfully. The kingdom prospered. We bought a lot of ice from them.”

Timothy snickered into his bowl. “Ice?”

“No really! We did! My family used to get shipments from them every month. Their ice chief was quite a funny guy, always talked to the reindeer that pulled his sled.” I swiped some bread across my bowl. “He smelled a little funny, too. But that’s a happy ending. Not all are so lucky. Some never learn control, and they end up hurting many people.”

He nodded. Madeline set her spoon aside. “It’ll be time for you to go to bed soon, Timothy. Please clean the plates.”

She looked over to me. “Thank you for the interesting story.”

I inclined my head in recognition. “We’ll leave in the next day or two. I will make sure to be out of your way by then.” I finished my wine, and retired to the little parlour where a fire was burning slowly in the hearth. The interesting architecture of the house had the fireplace shared between the parlour and the kitchen, open on both sides. I sat down in a comfortable wooden chair and gazed into the coals for a bit. There wasn’t much point in denying it to myself – I wanted a piece of that dragon’s hide, and I wanted Dorad’s head. One of mine had been felled, even if it was someone I barely knew he had been a member of my team.

Blood called for blood.

Would that really be the end of it, though? We would have to destroy a great many trolls if we were to be reasonably certain that none from among his own would want retribution.

Madeline had entered the room without me noticing. That took doing – or I was really preoccupied.

“You seem distant,” she said. “What is it troubling you?”

I shook my head. “They kill us, we kill them, it will go on,” I said. “In my land, we would wipe them out completely and that would be the end of it – or our threat of doing so would be sufficient. Here,” I looked around the room.

“Here it will not be so easy. There doesn’t seem enough force to threaten them properly. We just have to hope that taking out the leadership will fragment the rest and that their inherent nature will reassert itself.”

“You talk like a nobleman. Educated.” It was a statement, not an accusation.

“I am. Or, I was. My land is…” I thought it over. “A very long way away. I may never be able to return home.”

She produced a small decanter with some sort of brown liquor in it, and poured two small glasses. “I thought so. Your clothes might be worn, but those colors are rare. Where you come from, there are more of you?”

“Yes,” I said. I saw the look of concern cross her face. “But you have nothing to fear. My people are gone for you. Our time ruling these lands is done.”

“I thought it was far away?”

“Yes, it’s complicated. The distance is across time, a very long time.”

“No desire to rule here?”

I shook my head. “I have no army, I have no people here. Never had any real desire for that sort of thing. Little point in it. I might end up serving in a Court somewhere, but for now I think I’ll be happy just setting myself up with a home. Maybe a business of some kind. But I don’t think I’m done traveling yet.”

She handed me a glass, sat on the other side of the fire, and looked into it. I didn’t know local drinking customs, so I waited to see what she did.

“I hope your journey goes well. They killed Georg. I hope they all die, but I know that might not happen.”

I looked sideways at her. Grim determination was evident on her face.

“I might not rule here, but I still feel responsible to the people. My father taught me that much – what power we have should go into protecting our people. Until and unless I get home, I have to protect my adopted people…and that means you too.”

She looked at me slowly, and I went on. “I will do everything I can to see that Timothy can grow up safe, and that you won’t have to be fearful.”

She held her glass out towards me. I echoed the move, and she clinked her glass against mine. “Luck with you, then,” was all she said before turning back to the fire and sipping from her glass.

I tried some of mine too. It was a sweet whiskey, flavored lightly with juniper, or maybe there was some rye grain in there. Probably made from local corn. Not bad, really.

She drank hers quickly, bid me well, and went off to bed.

I stayed there for quite some time, thinking.

(All content here, outside of those elements attributed otherwise, is copyright (2025-) Thomas Theobald. With the exception of AI training, personal use with attribution is granted.)