Hunting Freedom

[charclone]

Optio Amulius Zuf Genialis, second in command of Count Arruns Lu Bonifatius’ cohort frowned. Besides the Count and his son, there was twenty men from the cohort. Behind them was the gate through which they had traveled to this world. Around them were unfamiliar trees.

But before him, amidst the ruins of some celebration of some sort, was what concerned him.

Standing alone, clad in black armour, a knight blocked the way. Behind him, people, dressed in clothing both familiar and strange, rushed aboard some strange, long, horseless carriage, clearly meaning to escape while the knight bought them time.

“Hah! Finally! Someone with some backbone!” Jeered the Count’s arrogant son. One day, that boy’s arrogance would cost him. But so far, he had been lucky. As well as smart enough to pay attention to his training master, Optio Amulius admitted to himself.

“Father, perhaps we should at least match his challenge!” The Count looked at his son, before motioning his troops back, and nodding to his son.

The boy dismounted his horse and drew his blade.

The knight simply shifted his posture, the strangely shaped blade remaining before him. It reminded Amulius of flames. Decorative? Or was there a purpose behind the shape of the blade? Amuluis pondered.

The Count’s boy approached the knight, his own blade, shorter than the knight’s, held before him.

“Careful boy, you aren’t nearly as well protected as he is, and his blade has more reach.” Amulius cautioned him.

“I can see that Optio! But that also means he is slowed by the armour, and the blade is heavier than mine. Harder to stop and feint!” The boy laughed.

“Idiot.” Amulius muttered under his breath.

“Careful Optio. That is my son, though your attempt to council him is appreciated. Still, even if they escape, a noble prisoner would be of far more value than a few slaves.” Count Arruns said.

“I meant no disrespect Count.”

“Of course you didn’t my friend. But one day my son will be in charge, and he already dislikes your cautious attitude. Hopefully, I can turn this lesson to teach him why such cautious advice is valuable.”

The horseless carriage roared and moved along the black stone road. The knight spared it a glance, before the Count’s son yelled, giving away his intent, and charged.

The knight’s blade came up and parried the blade with practiced ease.

The young noble attempted a feint, that became another lunge.

As the knight parried it, it suddenly became obvious to the Optio.

“That knight is inexperienced. Practiced with the blade, not half bad, but I doubt he has practiced with it long, nor has he been in a real fight. Probably some nobleman’s son that came to test his mettle at this festival.”

The Count nodded, wincing as the Knight finally counterattacked, a vicious kick to his son’s shin, followed by a swipe at his chest, that turned to a lunge as his son danced back.

“Well, his mettle is surely being tested. Though, I wonder, where is the militia? Surely such an event would warrant some form of guard for the nobility?”

The Count’s firstborn batted another horizontal swing aside and lunged again. As before, he relied on the point to penetrate the armour. His aim was poor, and the knight dodged. Instead of hitting the, presumably, thinner, besagew it skittered off the knight’s pauldron.

The hilt of the knight’s sword came up, and the pommel smashed into the heir’s head. Instead of backing off, the Count’s son instead rolled with the blow, and stepped inside of the knight’s reach.

With a scream, he drove the point towards the knight’s throat. His blade sparked as it slid off the gorget protecting the throat.

He attempted to step back, to gain better momentum.

The knight advanced, and grabbed his still outstretched arm, holding that held the sword.

The knight swung his sword up, to cut the boy’s arm.

Rather than risk losing his arm, either to the blow or the injury, he thrust his other arm in the way.

Count Arruns began to step forward as he heard his son scream in pain, before stopping himself.

With a heave, aided by the pain of the blow to his off hand, he wrenched his arm free, and feinted backwards. Again, the knight attempted to pursue, but the Count’s son instead stepped inside the knight’s reach, his blade again aiming for the knight’s throat.

Again, it bounced off, but the Count’s heir learned his lesson. He pressed the attack, trying to find a weak point. The knight for his part did a decent job of keeping his joints protected, keeping his arms close, and attempted to open of the distance.

Finally, one of them made a mistake.

The Count’s son feinted again, this time for the slits in the helmet. Instead of falling for it, the knight smashed his armoured head into the boy’s own.

Stumbling back, and bleeding profusely from the nose, the young noble charged, refusing to let the knight open the distance.

Batting the Count’s son’s blade away with the hilt of his own sword, the knight sidestepped the charge, and brought his blade down at an angle.

Count Arruns gave an anguished cry as his son fell, the knight’s blade finding the gap between the helmet and armour and biting deep into the flesh and bone at the back of the neck.

The knight was visibly breathing hard. In the distance, the rest of the Legion gave cries of victory. But on this small portion of the battlefield, there was silence.

Finally, after several heartbeats, the Count broke it.

“Take him alive!” The Count ordered; his voice hard.

Optio Amulius winced, as the knight went down. Bravely, valiantly, but futilely, he tried to resist, until a soldier got behind him, and smashed the haft of his spear into the knights head.

The knight fell and was beaten swiftly to unconsciousness.

Silence resumed.

“Bring him. Put him and my son’s body on his horse. We return to camp.” The Count ordered; sorrow audible in his voice.

 

[charclone]

Optio Amalis watched the troops march back through the gate.

“Optio! Where are your troops going!” A Centurion angrily stormed up to him. “Who ordered you back through the gate!? We are winning, but we still have that stone city to take. Turn your troops around!”

“They are going home. As am I.” Count Arruns said, as he came out of the Gate on his horse.

“Count! Sire, I, uh. My apologies, sire.”

“Don’t apologise, you were simply doing your duty.” The count glanced at the trail of looted goods being brought through the gate. “Which is more than I can say for some.”

The Count directed his attention to the Optio.

“Well my friend. My son’s body has been seen to. I have sent our troops to set up camp, near where we made camp in the Alnus forest, and have set a healer on our prisoner.” He sighed. “The people of this world don’t seem to have much fight in them, but those that do? … I’m glad my son at least died honourably.”

The Optio and the Centurion glanced at each other and ignored the mournful tone in the Count’s voice.

“Well, if it pleases his lordship, I can ensure a portion of loot is sent back for him, in memory of his son.” The Centurion said, tentatively.

The Count nodded, slowly.

“Come my friend. Let us go home and put my son to rest.”

There was a strange rumbling from the other world, when they were about halfway through the Gate.

“Sounds like thunder my lord. Heh, looks like the legion will be rained on while there.” The Optio joked.

“No… it sounds… strange. It sounds unlike any thunder that I have heard… more like… an explosion spell.”

“A mage perhaps? Have the enemy counterattacked?” The Optio glanced up at his liege.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not. In either case, my course is set.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They continued in silence the rest of the way, the strange sounds of explosions echoing strangely in the Gate.

“Aaah!” The Optio sighed. “The other world smelled so strange. Its good to smell the air of ones homeland!”

“It is tasteless to me as ever.” The count shook his head. “Come, form the men for the march. We… do you hear that?”

The Optio glanced behind him.

He saw a panicked tide of men, mounts, and demi-humans, all charging in a desperate wave for the other side.

The Count’s horse neatly sidestepped the mass of bodies.

The Optio grabbed a soldier.

“What is the meaning of this!?” He screamed in the panicked boy’s face. “Are you not part of the Imperial Army? Act
like it! Now! What just happened!?”

The boy shook so hard his armour rattled. He stuttered as he spoke.

“F-flying swords. Dropped things that exploded. Camp was destroyed. Then… then flying chariots. Metal beasts.
Something… something splattered on me from them.” He looked down at his bloodstained armour. “Oh…oh. Oh! Oh gods!
He… he’s all over me! I… Oh gods!”

The Optio released the gibbering boy.

He glanced at the mass of bodies, driven into a panicked retreat.

“Sire… if they put these many men into retreat…”

“We don’t have the troops to hold them. Find Senator Godasen. He is supposed to be in command!” The Count
gestured at the Gate. “My duty to Augustus here is done but am no coward. We establish a defence first, then I return home.
My son… my son will have to wait. He would understand.”


Tala mopped the blood from the brow of the unconscious otherworld Knight.

“The Empire seems to be intent on taking your lands, as they took mine.” She muttered to herself. Her ears twitched.
The sounds in the camp had changed… more troops were moving through, but it wasn’t the regimented marching.

She turned to clean the cloth in the bucket. A shift in the Knight’s breathing betrayed his wakefulness.

She kept up her work, not betraying that she had noticed.

Part of her was jealous. Like him, she was taken as a prize. Unlike him, she was a slave, while he was a captive to be ransomed back to his people. The leather collar at her throat itched.

The faint scrape of metal on metal, and the groan of strained fibers from the rope that bound his hands told her he
was awake enough to move. Technically, she was supposed to alert the healer, but based on the groans and occasional screams, he seemed rather busy. Interrupting him would only earn her a beating.

Then there was an unfamiliar sound.

She turned and saw the Knight, still in his armour, using a nail, taken from bed from the looks of it, to wear through his bindings.

He looked back at her.

With a tug. The rope bindings around his wrists snapped.

The Knight grinned and stood up from the bed.

She could see the fear in his eyes, but it wasn’t stopping him.

Technically, Tala should have called for help. Sounded the alarm. Alerted the guards outside the tent.

Instead, she simply held a shaking hand up, and held a finger to her lips, to signal silence.

The Knight nodded. He glanced around, and held up a hand, gesturing to it, and touching he armour.

“Gauntlet?” She spoke softly, and pointed to his gauntlets, sitting on the table the healer had used when removing the armour to check the blow to his head. Next to them, sat his helm.

“Gauntlet.” The Knight mimicked. He spoke another word as he picked them up. A word, she guessed was his word for gauntlet.

He nodded to her, as he put them on. His helm going on last. It was buckled on, the claps and buckles hidden as he shifted the gorget.

He said another word, and mimicked sword fighting.

“Sword?” She asked.

“Sword.” He sounded out the word and nodded. Uncertainty in his eyes.

Tala frowned.

She hadn’t seen where the sword had been taken. She hadn’t seen him brough in with one either, so she didn’t know what it looked like.

She held her hands up in a shrug.

The knight glanced at the entrance to the tent, and then at the back.

He walked, more silently than Tala had thought possible for someone in armour and stepped into the gaps between the rows of tents.

Tala followed.

Partly she was terrified of being caught, with the Knight gone. But the vast majority of her? She had waited for a
chance to escape, perhaps to Italica, perhaps elsewhere. The other side of the Gate seemed a good enough choice and with the camp in chaos, and a friendly local, this seemed the best opportunity.

The Empire had failed to break her. They failed to kill her. She would make them regret that mistake, however she could.

The pair moved between the tents. The Knight seemed to understand how the camp was organised, as he moved towards the supply tents. Tala wasn’t surprised, the camp was organised mostly the same as every Imperial camp. They seemed to always organise them in the same shape and pattern.

A large, fancy, officer’s tent the Knight paused at. He seemed to be listening.

Tala listed as well. The tent to her ears was empty.

Inside, they found that it was.

Maps of Alnus were spread out around the table at the centre. But Tala’s attention was on the weapon hung on a rack. It was a short spear, its blade was long, meant for both cutting and thrusting.

It was the weapon of her people’s Royal Guard. She picked it up and flinched as a blade was drawn from a scabbard.

She whirled, the spear at the ready, just as she had been trained.

The Knight gave her a look and sheathed his sword.

It was strange, the blade looking like flames, rather than the straight edges she was used to seeing.

The Knight swung the sheath onto his back and stepped back into the space between tents.

Tala was right behind him.

 

[charclone]

I have posted this here, as well as on SB where it originally was, at the request of @LordSunhawk , so direct any complaints in their direction, regarding the stories presence.

Please let me know if you have any questions, corrections, etc. The whole reason I post my stories is for feedback, to become a better writer.

 

[Bear Ribs]

Is this an original setting? I haven't placed it yet.

 

[charclone]

Is this an original setting? I haven't placed it yet.

It is this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gate_(novel_series)

Its... well, not very good. Its not bad, but... yeah. Lot's of dumb stuff, though there are several interesting characters, the setting is, generally, interesting, aside from glaring areas of bad worldbuilding, such as the Warrior Bunnies.

If you are familiar with Worm... its kinda like that, from what I know of Worm. Interesting premise and characters, but shoddy plot and the author is... well, a Japanese nationalist. And I think I may be understating some details.

 

[Bear Ribs]

Ah, I saw similarities with GATE but didn't recognize any of the characters as being from there so I thought it might have been a similar premise but different world.

 

[charclone]

Ah, I saw similarities with GATE but didn't recognize any of the characters as being from there so I thought it might have been a similar premise but different world.

Nah. Had no reason to use any canon character at this point, besides, the Gate opened in Canada.

 

[charclone]

Captain Edgar Johnson was not supposed to be in command of his unit. His CO, however, had been on leave when the news came. Fantasy creatures, medieval armies, attacking Canadian soil.

There was a belief that Canadians were peaceful people. The Germans in the First World War, and the Italians in the Second, learned that this was not the truth. And now, so too had these Roman wannabes.

Mixed US and Canadian aircraft leveled any formation that attempted to organise resistance large than a handful of men.

Canadian troops on the ground had engaged what remained. Most of the fighting had been in the fields, where a medieval festival had been taking place, though some scattered units of the enemy had made it to a nearby town, apparently, they had been pressing toward Toronto, visible in the distance.

The fighting had been brutal on the medieval idiots.

The captain could count two cases where they had actually been able to fight back, both had ended with bayonets or short-range fire.

The idea that anyone would attack Ontario would have been ridiculous to Captain Johnson earlier in the day. The world had been shocked. Hell, he had even heard rumors that that North Korea had offered support. No one would take them up on it if it was the truth, but it certainly helped underline the absurdity of the situation.

Edgar was a big man, of Scandinavian descent. But he was not a violent man. Yet, he felt a fury unlike he had ever felt before.

“Sir, uh, the General will see you.” The captain gave the poor corporal a nod.

“Sir.” The Captain saluted the American General, who had been placed in command of the NATO response.

“Captain. You were affiliated with the festival that had been taking place here, correct?” The General glanced up from
a pad he was looking at. “This was taken from a security camera, got plastered all over the internet. How many people from the festival do you know?”

“Not many sir.” The captain followed the General’s invitation, moving around the desk and peering at the pad.

A video was restarted, of a knight in black armour, holding a rearguard while people fled in a bus. Edgar paled and swallowed when he saw the valiant knight go down.

“Know him?” The General studied Captain Johnson. “Media is clambering for a name, been calling him the ‘Black Knight of Canada’, amongst other things. Looks like they took him alive for some reason.”

“Ransom probably sir, it was uh, something that was done commonly in the past, with nobles. They probably mistook him for one because of the fancy armour… and yes, I think I know him. Blade and armour looked familiar. I helped make that armour.” The Captain steadied himself. “Son of a friend. We both had interest in medieval history… ironically, his favourite medieval story was that of Zawisza Czarny of Garbow, aka Zawisza the Black, a Polish knight who died fighting a rearguard against the Ottomans, while his King and army fled. He also wore black armour, hence the name.”

“Then let’s hope his tale has a happier ending. We are bringing in drones to scout the other side, from NASA. Politicians are being paranoid, so are the eggheads. But once we get the go ahead, we are taking a force to the other side, partly to rescue any and all people kidnapped.” The General nodded at the pad. “You say he was probably taken as a prisoner for ransom? Fine. We’ll pay in lead. And if they killed him? They can pay a wergild of flesh and blood. Your unit is being transferred to my command. Keep fortifying that ‘Gate’, we’ll be sending the Drones through when they arrive, and then we will be kicking those primitive screwheads’ asses all the way back to Rome… or wherever they came from.”

The general frowned.

“That’s the right term, right? Wergild?”

“Yessir.”



Tara wasn’t sure if the Knight was sane. His plan took a little to piece together, due to the lack of a shared language,
but she did see the logic.

They would escape the camp, simply by walking out.

Getting what they needed from an armoury tent would be impossible. But hunting supplies, and food, were much easier to get. When they entered through the back of the supply tent, they immediately set about filling a sack with whatever food was preserved and on hand.

“Would you like some help?” A soft voice asked.

Tara twitched and grabbed her spear. The Knight stood, his blade in his hand.

Before them, another Warrior Bunny stood. Tara didn’t recognise her.

“You two are looking to escape, yes? You have a plan?” She said.

Tara saw a savage look in her eyes. This one was looking for more than just an escape.

She nodded.

“I hope your plan was more than simply walking out in the chaos.” The newcomer said.

“A Knight and slave going hunting wouldn’t arouse suspicion.” Tara replied.

The newcomer blinked.

“That… actually might work… keep filling the sack… I have an idea.” She disappeared.

The Knight gave her a questioning look.

Tara shrugged and continued filing the sack, they needed enough for three people now, if the other one didn’t betray them.

A soldier in armour walked in. Before either of them could do anything, the soldier removed their helmet.

“My master is in a… deep sleep. He won’t notice I’ve taken his armour, and I think I can pull off looking like a bodyguard.” The Warrior Bunny grinned, and she held up a bow, with a quiver of arrows. “I also took these from his tent.”

“Tara.”

The newcomer blinked.

“Forest-on-the-Hill Clan?” Something in the newcomer’s voice made the Knight tense. Tara understood the… dislike of her clan, considering how the war was lost. “Hannah.”

The Knight snorted, apparently finding something amusing about her name.

“What?” The newly identified Hannah asked. “Something wrong with my name?”

“He doesn’t speak any language I know and keep your voice down. What about the Guards?”

“Dead drunk. Now, hand me that spear, I’ll give it back when we are clear. Carry the sack. We are leaving.”

And so, the three of them walked out of the tent, looking like a Knight, his young soldier, and his slave.

The sentry at the entrance was bored. Nothing but panicked people, all saying the same thing, coming into the camp. Maybe the occasional runner from the main camps near Alnus Hill, but nothing interesting.

He started to doze off when he heard the clanking of armour. He opened his eyes, and leapt to attention, as a lord he didn’t recognise, in full (and expensive) plate walked past. A nervous looking slave carrying supplies behind him, with a boy in armour behind him.

The sentry frowned, the armour looking ill-fitting on the feminine looking boy, but then, his lordship probably just
told him to take any armour he could find. Nobles were always impatient with their underlings, wanting things done instantly.

He gave the boy a sympathetic look and a nod, getting a nod in return.

Maybe if the boy was lucky, his lordship would lend him the slave. Pretty looking thing, for a Demi-human.

The sentry watched them disappear into the woods. The spear and bow the boy carried made it obvious why.

“Heh, probably isn’t much of anything to hunt with all the soldiers marching and running about, but I’m not going to try and tell a noble what they can’t do.” The sentry frowned. “Never seen that noble before, I wonder which family he is from.”

The sentry shrugged it off. His was not to reason why.

The sun had already begun to set when a runner came up to him.

“Sentry, a prisoner escaped! Be on the lookout for a prisoner wearing full plate black armour.”

He stared at the messenger, his blood going cold.



In the forest, the trio rested.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Hannah gasped. “I was ready to spear the sentry when he gave me this odd look, and run.”

She sagged and leaned against a tree.

“Hah! I’m out of shape. Imperials beat us if they see us trying to keep up our skills, and my master was more interested in my looks than any skill I had.”

“Did you actually kill him?” Tara leaned against her spear.

“No, well, I don’t think so. I was told to poison him by his rival, something to make him sleep way too long, and get in trouble with the Centurion. I held onto it, to see if I could use it to escape. It probably kicked in fully after we left. He was already sleeping, so I poured it down his throat, carefully.”

The Knight scratched shapes into the dirt.

“What’s he doing?”

“Drawing things… ah, I think he is trying to learn languages.” Tara explained. She pointed to one. “The sun, Sol. I think that is the moon, Luna.”

The Knight gave an exclamation.

“Ah! Lingua Latina!”

He said a number of other words, pointing to the trees, the pictures, and himself.

“The words sound… similar to what the Empire speaks… but different.” Hannah noted.

“Maybe he knows a language similar to the Empires?” Tara guessed, before turning to the Knight. She spoke more slowly, saying the names of things he pointed to.

Hannah listened. The Knight’s language was… strange.

Something in the distance approached them.

“Quiet, something’s coming!” She hissed, drawing the bow.

The Knight drew his long blade, while Tara hefted her spear, pointed in the direction of the noise that she could now
hear as well.

 

[Bear Ribs]

Well that covers my biggest question, originally I didn't think it was GATE because I couldn't figure out why Team Modern Earth would have a dude in full plate swinging a flamberge around. The gent happening to be from a renfaire is an amusing coincidence.

Spoiler: Grammar

Mixed US and Canadian aircraft leveled any formation that attempted to organise resistance large than a handful of men.

Organize

The world had been shocked. Hell, he had even heard rumors that that North Korea had offered support. No would take them up on it if it was the truth, but it certainly helped underline the absurdity of the situation.

Double word, and I think that should be No one would.

“Sir, uh, the General will see you.” The captain gave the poor corporal a nod.

So not going to repeat this for every instance as it happens a lot in the story, but when you end a quote, if there's more sentence after it the quote should have a comma instead of a period.

Like this:
“Sir, uh, the General will see you,” The captain gave the poor corporal a nod.

ironically, his favourite medieval story was that of Zawisza Czarny of Garbow, aka Zawisza the Black, a Polish knight who died fighting a rearguard against the Ottomons, while his King and army fled. He also wore black armour, hence the name.”

Ottomans, at least until the old Empire gets a more PC name.

Keep fortifying that ‘Gate’, we’ll be sending the Drones through when the arrive,

they

Before them, another Warrior Bunny stood. Tara didn’t recognise her.

recognize

And so, the three of them walked out the tent, looking like a Knight, his young soldier, and his slave.

out of the tent is probably more grammatically correct but this isn't absolute and depends on your style sheet.

He said a number of other words pointing to the trees, the pictures and himself.

trees, the pictures, and himself. (Needs that second comma).

Hannah listened. The Knights language was… strange.

Knight's

 

[charclone]

Organize

recognize

Both are using UK spelling. -ise is acceptable, and for some words more common, though recognise is a case of less common spelling.

Thank you for the other corrections.

Edit: Regarding the use of a comma at the end of a sentence, I've never actually seen that used.

 

[LordSunhawk]

Coming along nicely, will be watching how this goes.

Love the 'simply walk out the main gate' plan *working* LOL.

 

[charclone]

Coming along nicely, will be watching how this goes.

Love the 'simply walk out the main gate' plan *working* LOL.

You'd be surprised at what simply looking like you fit in will let you get away with. There was a Cop during the US prohibition that dressed like he worked in the various smuggling outfits, and it worked very well.

 

[LordSunhawk]

Oh, I knew a guy who did pen testing for secure sites. A nice plain suit, a clipboard, and a pen can get you into a surprising number of places.

 

[Bear Ribs]

Both are using UK spelling. -ise is acceptable, and for some words more common, though recognise is a case of less common spelling.

Thank you for the other corrections.

Edit: Regarding the use of a comma at the end of a sentence, I've never actually seen that used.

Hmm, didn't know that about UK spelling. Okay then.

Using British rules the comma gets a bit weirder, as instead, you would put the comma after the quote. So:

“Sir, uh, the General will see you.” The captain gave the poor corporal a nod.

would become

“Sir, uh, the General will see you”, The captain gave the poor corporal a nod.

However anything in written English is going to be a bit dependent on the style sheet used, there are no actual certain rules.

Comma after a Quotation — A Comprehensive Guide

Some people think that the punctuation system requires esoteric knowledge to be fully mastered. Well, that might be the case if we think of it from a pedantic perspective, that the written language ought to

linguaholic.com

 

[charclone]

The Count fumed.

"They were in my tent! They are now armed! The otherworlders could counterattack at any moment!" He whirled around to face his Centurion. "Do we have any idea when they escaped?"

"No, sire. Sometime before sundown, and the sentry reported seeing an unfamiliar noble and soldier leave camp with a slave, but I doubt the prisoner would be so bold as to simply walk out like that." He replied.

Optio Amulius laughed.

"We teach our soldiers to obey nobles. If it didn't look out of place, why should they risk stopping a noble?" He shrugged to his liege. "Honestly, I could see the prisoner trying."

Count Arruns gave a mournful sigh.

"Centurion, take some men, and go after the prisoner, he is probably headed toward the Gate. Optio… I just want to go home. Put my son's body to rest. But I can't abandon a prisoner, not without making an attempt, it would cost me too much political influence. Molt would have me stripped of most of my titles for cowardice." He glanced at the Centurion. "What are you waiting for? Move!"

The Centurion leapt up and saluted, nearly running out of the tent.

The Count sighed again.

"My friend… what am I to do?"

"I don't know sire. The escaped prisoner… well, honestly, would the Senator not agree to some form of deal, leaving the prisoner to him, in exchange for letting you take your troops home?"

"Possibly. He's arrogant, because he had the talent to be a mage, but… he would want something else, to help against the Otherworlders… our auxiliaries, maybe? The Elves, Orcs, and Wolfmen have an obligation to serve still, I think that might work. He won't like it, but morale is already too low."

"Well, the men aren't happy about having them around, so it would certainly help, as would being able to go home."

"Then it is settled. We shall negotiate with Senator Godasen, and then we shall go home." The Count sighed. "I just hope my wife will forgive me for letting our son get himself killed."

"Sire, your son…"

"I know. He was headstrong, arrogant. But I should have tempered him. But I didn't. Now he is in Emroy's realm."


Hannah kept the bow steady as something approached through the undergrowth. The Knight stepped to stand beside Tala, his sword gripped in both hands at the ready. Tala kept her spear ready to use, tensed for a lunge.

Both Hannah and Tala knew that they were far from top form, but they weren't going to surrender meekly.

"Please, we surrender." The trio stared at the pair who stepped from the underbrush. They wore torn clothing, collars about their necks, and showed signs of stress. "We… you aren't soldiers… oh thank the gods."

The male elf collapsed to his knees and prayed. His companion, a female elf, simply sat next to him and rested, ignoring the weapons pointed at them.

Hannah and Tala stared in surprise.

The Knight glanced at them both, shrugged, and walked over to the sack where it had been dropped. He pulled a pair of waterskins out, and a loaf of bread, and handed them to the elven pair.

"Hey, we need that food." Hannah protested.

"Not if we are going straight to the Gate, its only a two, maybe three days walk to it." Tala countered.

"You… are going to Holy Alnus?" The male elf stared at them. He glanced at the Knight with a look of dawning comprehension. "You… you are from the other side!"

The Knight held a finger to his helmeted mouth.

"We just escaped from an Imperial camp, so please keep your voice down." Tara said.

"Ah, yes. My apologies, my lover and I… we were captured after we left our village. We were hoping to travel to another community, as our families feuded with each other. We escaped just before the army crossed into the Gate and have been running since." The Elf explained, between slow bites of bread and water. "I hope you aren't opposed to us coming with you?"

His lover started to snore, making him wince.

"My apologies… we have been running all day."

"Clearly." Hannah sighed. "Can either of you hunt? Just in case, we want to keep our food supplies up."

"Oh, yes. I am rather good with a bow. My lover however, she is a skilled druid."

"Perfect." Tara gave them a smile. "Unfortunately, we need to move, before they send out a search party."

The Knight scratched something in the dirt and said something in his language.

"What did he say?" Hannah asked.

"Still don't speak his language. But I think he is asking what we are…" Tara trailed off as she looked over the scratches in the dirt. "Uh, he's basically saying what I was… but he put more thought into it." She grabbed a branch. "I like his idea. Give me a hand with it."

They needed the female Elf's assistance, to make the proper preparation, but after several minutes, they were on their way, following the Knight's suggested path.

Despite when the Knight flinched at her magic, he offered to help her when she stumbled.

"Ah, no thank you, sir knight, I am fine just a little tired." She said, rather flustered, when he drew a picture of someone carrying someone else. "I just need a little time to rest when we stop, that is all."

"We probably aren't going to stop until nightfall." Hannah said.

"I'll make it, just a few more hours, right?"

"Why are we going in such a strange path?" The male Elf complained. "I thought we would head straight for the Gate?"

"Knight's suggestion." Tara said. "Makes us harder to track, and we aren't taking a predictable path."

"Oh." The Elf replied.

The walked further in silence, walking through the forest in a route that would put their former location on the other side of the camp from them before they headed toward the Gate. It was a simple idea, but Tara appreciated the Knight was thinking clearly, despite the blow to the head he had taken when captured.

An idea appeared in her head.

She began to point to various things, naming them in the Imperial language, getting the Knight to name them in his language.

They went back and forth. It was made easier by the Knight knowing a language similar to what the Imperials spoke, however different it was.

Certain words were similar, such as 'miles' meaning soldier, but others, such as 'deos' was different. It was rather vexing, but Tala found that despite the circumstances, the Knight was easy to talk to.

"Tala." She patted herself.

"Richard." The Knight copied her.

"Richard." She tested the sounds, before giving him a slight bow. "Pleased to meet you, lord Richard."

She knew he didn't understand all the words, but she could tell he understood the intention.

 

[ATP]

Good story,please continue.But - Canada had weak military,right? they could not take over Sadera.
Which mean,that USA would do so.
P.S according to what i read,Zawisza Czarny had black hairs,not armours,and was injured ,taken alive,and killed by turcs who fight over who would get ransom.

 

[charclone]

Good story,please continue.But - Canada had weak military,right? they could not take over Sadera.
Which mean,that USA would do so.
P.S according to what i read,Zawisza Czarny had black hairs,not armours,and was injured ,taken alive,and killed by turcs who fight over who would get ransom.

Canada's army is small, though not necessarily weak, they would lack the numbers to actually occupy Sadara, not to mention they lack certain equipment.

NATO is going in, rather than just Canada, partly because (though it wouldn't be mentioned until/unless I write the sequel) other nation's citizens were involved, and partly because Canada is part of NATO.

Regarding Zawisza Czarny, yes, he seems to have had black hair, but his armour was also black. There are conflicting accounts regarding his fate, that he either was killed in the battle, or he was taken prisoner and executed. There is no solid evidence either way.

 

[charclone]

A.N. Here, since I wrote another chapter, and I liked the length, you can have one from the backlog.



The Centurion was not a tracker. Therefore, he chose five soldiers to accompany him, two of them woodsmen who were proficient trackers.

"Three tracks, one clearly in armour, another wearing a soldiers sandal. One barefoot, Warrior Bunny I'd guess." One of them reported.

The other tracker agreed.

"How far do you think?" The Centurion asked.

"Not far, looks like they were slowed down by the supplies they probably stole, and weren't runnin'." The accent both of the trackers spoke with was boorish and was getting on the Centurion's nerves.

"Fine. We make double pace then, catch them before they can get any further."

The soldiers grumbled about it, but they obeyed.

The Centurion wasn't worried about the difference in numbers. A noble would likely be tired of Demi-human company after about a day, especially on the move in armour. The traitor, if that was what the person in legionary gear was, would be killed, and the slave would be dealt with. No, the Centurion was not expecting to have to fight very hard. He was correct, he would not be fighting.

The sun began to set when they found the temporary campgrounds.

"Looks like they met up with two others and started covering their tracks. They doubled back." One tracker reported.

"You couldn't have mentioned that sooner? And what is with the scratches in the dirt?" The Centurion grumbled.

"Uh, pictograms look's like. That Knight must not speak the same language."

The Centurion sighed.

"Fine. Fine. Come on, we are losing light." He started to move, following the obvious footprints through the grass, leading in a loop from the camp. Something tugged against his foot, and he had just enough time to notice the grass rope snap.

Something fell from the tree, and the last thing he saw was an arrowhead.

The remaining soldiers stared at the corpse of their officer. An arrow stuck out the fallen branch that has swung at his head from above, piercing his eye deep enough to kill him.

One of the trackers grumbled.

"This is why I stick to hunting game, not slaves 'r prisoners. Less likely to set traps."

They debated for an hour before voting and agreeing to return to camp with the Centurion's body.


Tara awoke next to the Knight… Richard.

The armour he wore beneath the plate was warm, but softer than the ground. When she had lain down next to him for the night, she nearly broke a rib from laughing at the shade his face took, though he didn't protest.

Hannah had taken the first watch that night, followed by Tara. The male elf, who they still didn't know the name of, had taken the last watch.

The Knight was the most heavily armoured, and in the best shape for a fight, while the female elf was their best hope for covering their tracks, being a druid.

The smell of cooked meat hit Tara's nostril.

They had chosen to use a tiny hidden valley in a hill as their camp, and overhanging cliff hiding them from any Imperial wyverns. Near the back, past the overhang, Hannah was roasting several small animals over a smokeless fire.

"Sleep well?" Hannah snarked with a drawl.

The two elves snorted from where they were curled, snoring.

"I didn't realise elves snored." Tara shook her head. "But anyway, I thought he was on watch?"

"I sent him to bed when I got up to go hunting. I caught enough for everyone." Hannah answered with a smile.

Tara frowned, sensing something off about the way she smiled.

She shook her head, and chose one of the carcasses, lifting the stick it was on away from the fire.

They ate in silence. Eventually, Richard joined them, blushing whenever he glanced at her. He spent several moments inspecting it, before shrugging and eating it, using his teeth to tear the meat off.

"Huh, would have expected an Imperial Noble to complain." Hannah said, frowning.

"You were looking forwards to it?" Tara asked.

"Well, no, I just…" Hannah shook her head. "I was expecting it, yes. I'm… surprised at how different Richard acts compared to Imperials."

"More reason to cross the gate then. He doesn't seem to like slavery, and I'd rather be a servant to a noble like him than a slave in the Empire." The male elf said as he walked over. "I didn't introduce myself, or my lover, did I? I'm Kenwen, and she is Elomorna."

Said female elf continued to snore.

"Kenwen, Elomorna." Richard repeated, then tapped himself, and said his name. He pointed at Tara and Hannah, naming them as well.

"Pleased to meet you, lord Richard." Kenwen gave a formal bow. Richard copied the bow.

Hannah snorted.

"He's still learning the common tongue." Tara said.

Richard handed Kenwen one of the remaining things of meat.

"Move, soon." Richard said, as Elomorna wolfed down the last of the meat several minutes later.

"Hmm?" Hannah blinked and hummed questioningly.

"I think he is saying we should move soon." Tara explained. She and Richard began to converse, in broken tongues and pictures in the ground.

"Going to explain the plan?" Hannah asked

"Okay, so, we are probably being pursued. Richard here has a plan to buy us time to open up the distance and lose them." Tara said, smiling.

As she explained it to the others, Hannah too smiled, a much crueler and predatory smile.


Count Arruns stared at the corpse of the Centurion for several minutes. This Centurion had served under him since he had joined the army. Finally, he reached over to the body, and took the vine staff from its belt.

He handed it to Optio Amulius.

"Congratulations on your promotion Centurion." He ignored the Optio's, now Centution's, pale face. "I want you to select a new Optio. Have them lead some troops to flush the escape prisoner out, and drive them toward us, once we are on the other side of the forest. I will meet with the senator, and hand over command of the auxiliaries, you will set a trap for the prisoners. Then, once we have them, we go home."

"I… understand, sire." Centurion Amulius frowned. "Do you have any preferences as to who I select and send?"

"No. Send twenty men with them."

He dismissed the new Centurion, and walked back to his own tent, leaving the morgue behind. As he walked, he thought.

The dawn light glinted off of the armour and weapons as the camp was packed up to move. He had been enjoying a meal of roast pheasant, taken from a peasant village nearby.

He knew it would taste of ash, now.

Part of him wanted to send the entire formation in, his entire Noble Cohort, cavalry, infantry, and auxiliaries, all three hundred soldiers, in after the Knight. First, he lost his son to him, and now a favoured officer.

He forced himself to calm down. Sending the Cohort would be gross waste of manpower, and would most likely result in a dead prisoner, or no prisoner at all. Besides, it was his fault, not the Knight's, that his son is dead. He chose to take his son along. He ignored the warnings of his tutors and Amulius. The Knight struck the fatal blow, but it was his actions and inactions that resulted in his son being in the way of the blade.

He sighed as he sat down before his now much colder breakfast.

He finished it quickly and mechanically. As expected, the fat and juicy bird tasted of ash.

A few hours later, they were on the march. The new Centurion had sent twenty men, all tough and strong, to flush them out. They would camp in the forest near where the camp had originally been, hopefully fooling the Knight, and would allow a coordinated effort.

The Count glanced at the cart that was carrying his son's body.

He hoped his wife would forgive him.

 

[ATP]

Count Arruns seems as decent person.If he is also smart,he would surrender quickly when he undarstandt what Saderans are facing.

 

[charclone]

That's what I am trying to convey. No one is a villain in their own story. Generally, I try to write characters like that, even if it isn't shown in story, because it wasn't necessary.