A far light, a close ambition

Ivanus Leafsonn, Thegn in service the service of his Lordship, year 1032 Ab Teoria Magica; barony of Annessus

The training had been unceasing, brutal and without any kind of respite under the winter’s veil, some snow even starting to fall, which was rather late but not that strange.

After the tax run, which had been far more fruitful than expected, we had been knee deep in exercise and preparation, each seed of grain grinded into flour, each filet of meat, be it fish or meat, salted or smoked, and each piece of silver being written so to not be stolen, either by thief or by bureaucracy.

Myself, being both a knight and someone assigned to the steward, had to take care of both, much to my dismay and annoyance.

Much of the greed I could curtail, unluckily for my own wife, thank to preparations and laws.

And geasses.

Many of those magical contracts had been employed, all to somewhat give a semblance of fairness both to the servants and the master, all of them created by the enigmatic, and nebulous, and mysterious brother of his lordship.

Those adjectives were to not use more…base ones, like monstrous, terrifying, and borderline heretical.

Borderline because he was merely kicked out of the most active and above all studious part of the Order, sent here to his brother with an heavy-duty geass.

Only work for the betterment of the barony, in spirit and in words.

What he had done, I did not know, but I was aware that, at the very least, no servants nor citizens had died.

Those who were not guilty of a capital crime, that is.

The screams…were unsettling, so his lordship had ordered him to either find a way to dull the pain, or to not do at all.

The pain-relievers, an array of magical origin, were perfect for birthing mothers and for pain of incidents and fights, but the fact that they were so good made me pray harder to my ancestors for a quick death to the sinners in that hellish room.

Luckily for my honour, his lordship had a tight rein, but I trembled slightly at what would happen in less than two seasons, when we would follow his highness south.

“Ivanus! Stop slacking, you half rat! Give three more laps!” The master of arms, a man slightly older than me, shouted and I, groaning, followed the order.

The armour was light enough, moderately lightened by the work of acolytes on the metal while it was forged, both the plates and the chainmail below it.

I was not the only one.

There were a good fifty more knights like me who were training, those who were his lordship force that would be joining the count.

A good force, even more than good for this being a barony.

Some hamlets and villages having luckier years than whatever the Hel happened three years ago had helped equipping the people, alongside finding a somewhat passable iron vein.

Along with the work of the steward, naturally.

Now we had some fruits in the form of good hardy men, trained and well equipped, and I could only hope not all the fruits would end up dead.

Naturally that was when a veritable pillar of like went up from the horizon, cutting through the clouds, ceasing the snow and investing me.

It healed all the pain and revitalized me, but I could only stare at that incredible spectacle, laugh coming to my ears, like of children playing, or of elderly chuckling, or of wind against leaves.

It was a comforting hug, a kiss on the skin, something that made my armour lose the small dents and the many scratches it had on it.

The other warriors, and the servants, and even his lordship, who had come out to oversee the training, all had turned, and all of us, even I, were crying at the beauty of that.

Then, like it had come, it dissipated, and in that moment I heard many sighs around me.

The eyes of the warriors were sad, dejected, and just sat down, unheeding to the presence of their lord or, even worse, of the master of arms.

But even he just leaned back, and stared to the ground, for it was like…suddenly gaining something and then losing it.

It was something that came from the holy ones, and powerful ones at that, I knew that.

I had gone with my lord to meet a conclave, and that feeling was similar, even if even lesser, than what had just happened.

Which is why I was surprised that the doors opened with a thundering crash, and out came the youngest brother, the dark mage, a greedy smile on his lips and his eyes rimmed in black and red, due to exhaustion.

“Brother, I have a duty to follow, please let me go towards what just happened.” How the man, who just spoke with obsession, greed, and plain madness, who did never have open windows, was aware of what just happened and had been able and, above all, willing to come out, was a mystery.

What wasn’t were my lordship’s clear refusal, his eyes glaring into his brothers, his own raven’s hair almost floating at his head’s small shake: “No, we have to prepare, and the Order-”

“I am of the Order, brother, despite how far I have fallen. But I will follow my duty for the preparations and the future of our family.” Lucius the mage grouched, and went in easily enough.

Too easily.

So easily that I didn’t sleep well that night, waiting for Lucius’s action. I could not wait in the stable, or at the door, nor could I give the guards order to pay closer attention. I was no steward, I was barely below the man at arms, but still.

It was my liege’s duty to make sure his brother didn’t go out of his leash.

Unfortunately, Lucius was a master of shadows, above all at planting them.

So we only found the next day that what was thought to be his resting body was, in reality, a corpse well crafted.

And snow was then falling heavily, too heavily, to follow him.

We could only hope for him to either return and take the punishment, or for him to not cause something we would not be able to weather.