~Eliador de Lioncourt
)0(
A Ranger's Tale
)0(
NE 241, Spring
“Welcome
to Teesside!” grinned a stocky brunette, his companion wearing a dour look,
“C’mon, Moggray. Lighten the fuck up!”
“I’m
lightening up here,” grunted the Gaffer of Teesside Division. Or rather that
was what he used to be, “Nothing changed here, Southgate. Been some time since
I left office, anything new?”
“Only
because you only saw the lads and nothing else,” answered his companion
wistfully, “They call our home a shit place to live in. A fine accolade if I
say so myself.”
“Is
that so? We have ore and coals, mines and miners. A shame to see no
agricultural lands about,” retorted the Northern Lion with a cynical snort.
“Fields
belong to farmers and farmers belong to nobility,” replied an equally cynical
Southgate Garatt, “That’s why we got priority status.”
“Southgate,
enough of…”
“…this,”
cut off the brunette soldier, his grin widening like a fool, “Louthes Eliaden
is a good man. Fine commander, but piss poor ruler. His little lass, on the
other hand, is someone quite the opposite. Little wonder why war and peace are
each other’s bitch.”
Nothing
stated by Moggray Tonn’s assistant could be anywhere further from the cold hard
truth, all around them were buildings built from rock and wood while they had
seen finer houses made of bricks and tiles. Little boys ran around the spacious
square naked waist up, such a show would have easily earned an earful
otherwise. Thankfully, little girls were not considered brazen since all feared
the Inquisitors storming their homes down.
“River
Market,” quipped a shrill voice from behind, the speaker revealed as an apish
midget with green skin and small pointed ears, “Only attraction counted as
local pride.”
“Son
of a bitch,” smiled Moggray Tonn finally, “So how’s business going, Big Gun?
Still wearing leather overalls, I must say.”
“Name’s
Biggan, not Big Gun. I know this sounds terrible, but please blame my mother
instead,” smirked Biggan as two overripe apples were tossed towards the duo,
“One bronze per fruit, fuck minimum cost.”
“Lowest
standard of currency is bronze, Biggan,” sighed Southgate, “That’s why you
don’t get one quarter of any coin.”
“And
Teesside is famed for our metal,” chuckled Moggray, meaning of Biggan’s jape
not lost to him, “That’s why bronze and steel are common as whores.”
“I’d
like say whores ain’t made of metal, but testing the metal can wait later,”
said Biggan impassively, his sudden change of attitude proven by a thumb jerked
behind, “Fat bastard is waiting.”
)0(
"Huh?
You mad, bra?" Parnaby Davow widened his beady eyes, Biggan trying hardest
best not to guffaw at the podgy man’s visage.
"You
hear me, Parns," commented a grey eyed soldier lined with scars, "I
need a ship out for Histalonia. Don’t fret, fat bastard. Moggray Tonn won’t die
easy because a lion can never live easy. By the way, nice warehouse you have
here."
“Only
sacks and crates, stubborn jackass,” smirked the plump jester, “But I got ears
and eyes all over.”
“Thanks
in advance then, fat bastard,” Southgate offered an open palm facing the front
in return, Parnaby Davow’s infamy as the top smuggler justified once again,
“You suck in playacting though, ex buddy.”
"Ex-buddy?
You’re a lawful citizen, Southgate. I’m merely a reformed criminal,"
glared Parnaby genuinely, “I've yet to demand reparations from your wife! Lanna
doesn't have to know a dime about Gemma."
"Gemma
kicked up a ruckus again? Sorry, Parns," apologized the eldest of the
trio, Moggray Tonn understanding his second’s constant predicament.
"You're
not the bastard cheating behind his missus' bed, Moggray so don't trying acting
nice,” growled Parnaby, "You're not born this way anyway unless you want
me braying your ass off."
“Inbred
bastard…” reciprocating Parnaby’s favour, Moggray’s orbs brought forth a steely
glint, “Deal then?”
“Deal.”
With
palms smacking together, the agreement was finally sealed. Beating a retreat no
longer an option, Moggray Tonn was hell bent on finding answers somehow and
somewhere in the middle of Endless Straits.
"One
more thing before I forget," grunted Parnaby, a podgy hand raised,
"You may want to meet a certain boy. He's heard word on two suspicious
weirdos sniffing around and asked this "dearest ex-convict uncle" to
refer both you clowns to him."
"Ex-convict
uncle?" spluttered Southgate Garrat, attempts to stifle an apparent mirth
evidently seen, "Man, Parky sure knows how to select your name."
"Shut
the fuck up, ‘tard. I know your body is made of bricks" snapped the portly
middle aged man, "Parky's little boy is all grown up already, have to give
him credit due.”
“So
any changes?” queried Moggray, “Been a year or so since he’s gone missing.”
“Mane's
grown a wee bit longer, but still spiked,” interrupted a grinning Biggan, “Grown
an inch wider round the chest and two inches taller, you can trust my buggy eyes."
“Everyone
knows you enjoy watching any person especially whores, that’s why Goblins have
eyes like insects.”
“What
about you, O’ bravest lion?”
“I
don’t enjoying seeing a lot of things.”
“Okay,
let’s break this up, guys,” sighed an exasperated Southgate, “We don’t have
much time mucking around. I do have a bad feeling about this though.”
"You
should, big bloke. Lad’s currently at Cleven's Square," answered Parnaby,
a sly grin betraying what the chief smuggler has prepared for his counterpart,
"In Gemma's brothel training her girls some self-defensive art."
"Ge…
Ge… Ge," stuttered Southgate as he tried spitting out the name of she whom
he dreaded most.
"Gemma,"
completed Moggray, “See, I’ve done you clowns a favour. Surely Guy has grown in
size, stature, and chivalry!”
Unbridled
mirth chortling loud erupted from him, Parnaby, and the rest, only one
individual was not amused.
"Moggray,
please mind your language. I hear children playing outside."
)0(
“Hey,
you alright?” asked a matronly honey blond, her beauty somewhat untainted by
increment of years and girth.
“Nah,
just a cold, that’s all.”
“Stop
the lesson then! My girls can’t work if they caught your illness.”
The
youth chose not to answer his host, sapphire eyes opting to take the sight around
him once more. This was indeed a brothel, a humble one at that. He still could
recall what granted him a stay here in the first place, at least he did not
have to pay money over food and lodging.
“Hoo’r u, boya? U as’ fer
beeting?”
“Sorry, I don’t understand
you.”
“Wat de fuq?”
“Can you rephrase your words
properly?”
“Sunuvva’bitch!”
“Well,
guess you’re right here, mother Gemma. After all, I owe you something.”
“Glad
you know why the city’s Watch chose not to pursue this issue.”
“And
I know you’re glad for me saving Ithi, that’s why I end up here.”
“Ithi
is my property, but any old hen could have claimed ownership otherwise. Unless
you’re born a cretin, you should know how much a Sudhlit cost.”
“Unfortunately,
I do not…”
“Mother
Gemma!” exclaimed an attractive filly, her dark complexion and sharp features
complimenting a petite build.
“Ithi?
I thought you’re supposed to be outside entertaining the guests?” frowned
Gemma.
“The
guests got driven out due to three troublemakers creating problems for us! Said
they’re looking for…”
“Looking
for who? Looking for what?” snapped the honey blond, “What are the bouncers
doing? They’re paid to do something, not the other ass backwards order!”
“Calm
down, Gemma.”
“How
do you expect me to calm down? This is the only job me and the girls can
afford! If you’re not related to Southie, I would have fed you to the Watch!”
“I
believe troublemakers will rather make trouble in some rich man’s whorehouse
than to incite a brawl in a poor man’s whorehouse.”
“And
what if they’re our patrons?” squeaked a timid Ithi.
“Then
the city’s Watch will be mobilised. They only can’t be arsed doing anything in
a rich man’s world. Remember why they made a visit here in the first place?”
Gemma
tried answering this difficult question when the lad turned towards Ithi.
“Ithi,
do you remember their faces? You do have a good memory and I don’t mean it the
wrong way.”
“Only
one and he’s Big Gun,” shaking her head lightly, Ithi gave a shrug.
“That
son of a green bitch, he better not tell me everything is for the good of
technology,” glowered Gemma. However, the most shocking news had yet to come, Ithi’s
next statement would knock the wind off Gemma’s sails.
“But
there’s no mistaking the other two’s features. One is a heavy built brunette
while the other is slimmer, but looks nastier with scars all over.”
“Wait!
Surely it’s not…”
“Gaffer
and Southgate,” completed the youth for Gemma.
An
abrupt gale tore through a now empty courtyard, the strong man who used to be a
boy reached out his arm. Flaring gold responding to a willing mind and an
open palm, a golden hunting spear appeared in his hand. His sandy blond hair no
longer cropped, it nevertheless remained spiked with a short ponytail tied
behind. His sleeveless tunic was of flowing teal with belt buckles in front,
his breeches woven from forest green. High leather boots completing his
appearance, Guy Cody had truly attained a lion’s stature.
)0(
"Milady,
please go back. It’s rather cold outside!" exclaimed Jase, attempts to
dissuade Karen Tenias from approaching that sleeping figure proven as failure.
"Never
mind the weather, for is not House Tenias part of Bridging Steppes?"
smiled Karen, “You remember what ‘frigid as upmost north’ means?"
"Erm,
Milady…" blushed Jase, "I think such an idiom shouldn't be…"
"Coming
from my lips," completed the petite noble with a giggle, gentle breeze
caressing her dark raven locks, "I know what it means, Jase. You don't
have to address me as 'Milady' because House Steele is after all a Major House
unlike House Tenias."
Karen
was no fool as she observed Jase's reaction. She had a friend named Joenne Nances,
she was quite besotted with that ginger lad. It wasn’t hard to see why though,
for an untainted charisma in him was evident. Something so pure and unadulterated,
only cruel future awaited him. She hated her father with fervour and logical
reason, she knew Granad Tenias was nothing like her. In fact, it was oft
whispered that her mother wasn’t his lawful wife. Rather she was nothing more
than a raper’s victim, someone whom Karen never got the chance to meet. For
Wersin Tenias was considered barren since birth, the smallborne folk assuming
this as divine retribution.
Your father took our lands! Your father took our wives! Your
father took our daughters, our best livestock, and our sons' very best years!
"Perhaps
‘tis why they say I am no more a Tenias to every smallborne just like how a
commoner kneels before any noble…" noted Karen cynically.
Ignoring
Jase's desperate protests, Karen could only direct her gaze to that enigma
whose face was shrouded in a hood. He saved her life, her father chastised him
instead for letting his daughter witnessed blood and severed parts. She still remembered
clearly the fight last night. The Orcs were indeed savages, she could not bear
to imagine what kind of fate she will face from a notorious race famed for murder,
pillage, and rape. And that was why she despised the Kalaran dream. It was a
meritocracy nothing to do with theory and everything to do with reality. The
dark sellsword should deserve plaudits at very least, yet praise went to those unwilling
to fight in the name of pragmatic strategy. Calling themselves the Home Guards,
she'd rather call these craven boys thoroughbred mongrels. As for that man, he
gained nothing apart from a complimentary nod or two. They said he's a
sellsword and a Ranger, therefore survival without remuneration is acceptable.
To think I’ve yet to ask his name…
Taking
off her fur lined cloak as a blanket, the least he deserved should be a
temporary gift for the night. The wolves suddenly howled from afar, the Ranger springing
into action. Like a beast defending its territory breached, Aeranath violently grabbed
the hem of Karen's bodice and smashed her against a nearby apple tree. Only
minutes ago, his sword was seen staying in its sheath and lain across the lap.
Come the next moment, it ended up being released like a hungry wolf set free
from its prison cell. Growling like an animal born primeval, the Ranger pressed
his weapon's edge against her neck. As fresh blood red and warm trickled down
her porcelain skin, Karen Tenias could only taste her own fear. Instructed since
young not to associate herself with any dubious company, Karen for once was
forced to acknowledge this truth.
Seconds
belonging to eternity ticking by, Karen went wide eyed before his azure eyes
with sudden perception dawning upon her. Those were never the eyes of people
she knew about, people finding comfort in whatever they have. What is he living
for? Why is he born this manner? How have he lived his life? When will he reach
his end? Countless questions swirled violently within her soul, everything
converging as a chaotic maelstrom. Out of the blue, a piece of memory supposedly
forgotten assailed her mind.
“Ales, are you serious in
writing this?”
“Why? Is there anything wrong,
Kar?”
“I know you very well. We’re
childhood friends, remember? Time and again, I beseeched you not to indulge
yourself in children’s tales!”
“And do you think the True
Apostles are merely a myth?”
“I don’t mind hearing Elves
being called the Homm’Nua, but creating a race resembling them, yet ten times
more powerful? People will laugh at you and call you a daydreaming little girl!”
“They are NOT Elves, Kar!”
“And you sent Jo crying just
because of that? Ales, listen to me…”
“No! You listen to me, Kar! I
didn’t make Jo cry on purpose, but why are you like her? You all only see Elves
as Elves, but I’ve seen a True Apostle with my own eyes! Beings of legend told
to me by my mother!”
“And what if Lady Emma Watts
was lying to you?”
“Shut up! You’re just like Jo
and everybody else! You all don’t believe in me!”
Remembering
that stinging slap in courtesy of her best friend, Karen Tenias should not have
mocked Alestrial’s naivety. Joenne had tried it before once, she ended up crying
with a hand cupping her left cheek. That was when they were merely thirteen, an
age where zest and innocence wedded each other as king and queen. Alas, both
rulers died at the same time, mayhap that was why both Karen and Joenne were
comfortable with Alestrial writing her award winning work. But then again, the
past was already consigned to death. The only living entity right now was their
current time, a time where she starts understanding certain things and not just
certain myths derided as obscure.
‘Tis a pair of jewels like
daytime skies, a fort surrounded by walls of ice.
)0(
“Woo!
Here comes the bitch, baby!” hooted an ecstatic Biggan, bug like orbs of
darkest red shining with glee, “I’d pay a fortune just to spend a year with
you. Muah!”
“What
the fuck is wrong with him?” asked a bemused Guy Cody, his thumb pointing at
the Goblin’s direction, “You can’t make whores out of ships!”
“Ignore
this little bugger,” advised Moggray with a chuckle, “He’s a Goblin. You know
what it means?”
“Looney
bastards,” interrupted Southgate as he readied his gear, “We call this common
knowledge.”
Enjoying
the harbour breeze ruffling his sandy blond hair, Guy Cody knew it would be
quite some time before returning home. Perhaps he might not even survive, but
certain things had to be done. He was not the fool people assumed him to be,
Merseyside had taught him how to spell the vital word correctly.
Remember, lads! Try breaking
down assume and you’ll get Ass, U, and Me! So don’t assume, assuming will only
get many donkeys killed. We’re born as soldiers, not jackasses. Understand?
“Assuming
that I will survive Histalonia, assuming Alestrial may have gone for good,
assuming Alestrial may be somewhere still alive,” Guy was still smiling when a forceful
hand got slapped across his cheek. Swearing that he had seen something green
and small, the Kalaran lad fell into a daze with shouts of outrage lingering in
his ears.
“Fuck you, Big Gun!”
“Why always me? I saw a sea
gnat and sea gnats can easily cause fever with their bites!”
“And more sea gnats will try
feasting on the boy’s blood soon enough. Get him into the deck and let him
rest!”
“Moggray, you know one thing?
Guy is gonna make an ass out of Big Gun.”
“Fuck you, Stonegate!”
“Name is Southgate, NOT
Stonegate!”
)0(
“What?
Are you serious, Louthes?” a mousy middle aged man presented a wild eyed look
to Louthes Eliaden, the current patriarch staying unimpressed by his opposite number.
“Do
I look like a jester to you? Know the boundary separating me and you, Granad
Tenias.”
Louthes
was spot on in his damning assessment, Granad had to give him credit due. House
Tenias was different from House Eliaden, the only reason why his counterpart
became a Humble Noble was down to taking the fall over that failed expedition
better known as the War of Mourners’ Ford. House Tenias never got the chance to
deploy its most promising men, quite obviously the result would be different if
Granad had his way. Louthes was a senile fool believing in his own judgment
back then, now history has to repeat itself all over again.
“Look,
I’m fine with your suggestion if not for this knave threatening my daughter!
You know how much Karen means to me?” snarled Granad, an explosive ire belying
his skinny frame.
“I
know she means the world to you,” sighed the Knight Lord with an iron mane, his
tea sipped slowly as if he wanted to hammer the correct message across clearly,
“I don’t remember her mother having an equal value. So where did you dump her
body? In the woods? In the swamps? I doubt you would be daring enough to dump a
dead woman in the middle of any street, no matter how secluded.”
“Fine
then!” Granad threw up his arms exasperatedly, “You can have your man, but he’s
not allowed to take the same ship. You get me?”
“There
is only one galley heading for Histalonia,” said Louthes as he got up from his
seat, “Take it or leave it. As for that Ranger, do not assume torture will
suffice in breaking him down. I can try reining him in, but the key word is try.”
As
Louthes Eliaden made his exit, he offered one last warning chilling Granad like
the north season wind.
Try keeping your daughter away
from Aeranath instead. Sellswords are known to be brutally rough when it comes
to beautiful women, let alone one like Karen.
)0(
Background notes:
The Endless Straits is a formal denotation referring to the entire stretch of marine territory connecting the relevant portions of the Eastern Seas, Western Seas and Northern Seas into one single channel. Histalonia is basically the defining landscape together with the Unknown North further upwards.
The
north season wind is a natural phenomenon where the wind direction will come
down south from Slarvea. This will always be the first sign of winter, every noble
House affected are obliged to send mounted courtiers spreading the word.
And
speaking of courtiers, they are actually the most trusted aid of noble Houses.
Courtiers working directly under the Emperor are known as Stewards and it is
always rumoured that Stewards, unlike ordinary courtiers, are able to declare
themselves as de-facto rulers even with the Emperor around.
Bronze,
as a currency, is a slang referring to copper coins. Currency system in the Kalaran
Empire is classified into three groups. Copper, Silver, Gold.
River
Market is central attraction, if not the only one in the county of Teesside.
Spanning three hundred square metres, this is the only place where merchants
are willing to do business. At the same time, River Market is also part of
Teesside’s High City.
And
speaking of High City, it is the formal term referring to specific residential
zones reserved for the noble and elite. No matter what, every county in the
Empire will have one residential zone. However, size will vary depending on the
county in question.
)0(
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