The Bitter Taste Of Hope

[IMPERIAL YEAR 357. PARIAH’S FALL, THE IMPERIAL PROVINCE OF SAOIRSE…]

Wood smoke and mortar hung heavy in the air as the makeshift fortress of Pariah’s Fall descended into a cacophony of noise and activity. On one side of the garrison, an empire hell-bent on quelling the flames of rebellion. Their rule reigned absolute, and no one knew this quite like the peasants and farmers who stood to oppose them.

Gladly would many face oblivion over the starvation and shame they had come to expect under imperial rule. Although, even the most heartfelt desire for liberty was not monolithic. Despair loomed within the province like so many others, crushing the will of the people to continue the fight.

Amidst the chaos, one small contingent of revolutionaries–seemingly on their last legs–made their way through the garrison. Determined to see their master’s final wish to its bitter conclusion, they pressed onward through the weathered stone gates…

“Gods-damned empire! To think that they would raze a farming settlement way out here in the mains to find one lone girl…” A gruff-sounding guardsman–ahead in his years, and a member of the resistance–cried out, exasperated. “I have half a mind to take up the white flag myself, and deliver her to the Legatus than risk our homes and livelihoods on the whims of a fool...”

The grizzled man glared through his stringy gray mane upon a straw-woven basket, in it carrying the last hope of a long-dead kingdom. An infant, no older than a few moons, slept oblivious to the jaws of death nipping at the heels of her father’s trusted envoy. With opinions split on how best to proceed, a much younger man than the first–and the esteemed leader of the bunch–decided, at last, to weigh in.

“That fool you carelessly speak of, Cormac, is our king!” The man who wore brilliant silver armor declared. “You would dare suggest leaving his namesake to the mercy of the legion? Death or worse awaits her there, and she may well be our last hope at taking back these lands. His majesty pleaded as much to me as he succumbed to his wounds.”

“He was our king, you mean.” The older man, Cormac, retorted. “And because of that very same hope and the mad king’s empty promises of divine retribution and liberty, we find our necks halfway in the legion’s noose. I merely see a simple way out of this. Is it that you cannot, Commander?”

“The only way out is an honorable death, old bear. You spoke the soldier’s rites, same as us.” A third man intervened. “Knight Commander Quinn is correct, we press on towards the border where our associate awaits to take the child to safety. Somewhere beyond the reach of the empire in The Frail.”

“If suicide is your wish, then suit yourselves.” Cormac sneered at his superiors before turning to the rest of the group, numbering about twelve in total. “All that would continue this charade may stay with the Commander and his loyal dog along with the child marked for death. However, if you would value your own lives–and the lives of those you hold dear–you may follow me to the ferry before the Legatus’ fury rains down upon the garrison.”

The soldiers within the group glanced around nervously, perhaps to judge by expressions alone which way the tide might be turning. Clear minds they were not afforded, however, with the approaching sound of the Emperor’s Legion outside the crumbling walls of the fortress.

“Who… Who are you calling a ‘dog’!? TRAITOROUS WRETCH!” The man who spoke out in support of Commander Quinn drew his shortsword, tensions reaching a boiling point, but he was quickly stopped by his better.

“Stay your blade, Aidan.” Knight Commander Quinn warned. “The man has made his choice. Born of cowardice notwithstanding, I still choose to honor it in light of our current circumstances. We have not the time to come to blows. I think all present would agree?”

“Aye. A wise choice, Commander. Let that wisdom of yours convince you to alter course before you meet an unceremonious end. Or don’t.” Cormac smirked, turning towards the garrison’s side exit. “Are you with me or not, gents?”

There was a brief moment of silence, but then—as surely as the fires raged on the nearest horizon—the exodus began in earnest. One-by-one the brave men who pledged their lives to the cause turned their backs to their Commander, following Cormac at the prospect of safety.

All who remained were the two men, holding tightly to the loyalty they still had for their king, and his daughter beside them who had begun to stir and cough with the soot lingering in the air.

“………….What will we do now, Commander?” Aidan, upon seeing his fellow countrymen abandon course, muttered in disbelief.

“………….”

The road to the rendezvous point was littered with legionnaires as the pair of men both knew well. Their journey would prove increasingly difficult with only one sword to cut through them, while the other needed tend to the king’s last hope as a shield.

“Surely there must be some way we could… Um, Commander? Are you there?”

Knight Commander Quinn stared solemnly at the moon which shone faintly through the cloud of smoke, forgetting the world around him for a brief moment. With a small chuckle in his throat, he began to remove his helmet. Letting his long silver hair fall to his shoulders, the elven man revealed with it his pointed ears.

“You ask what we will do, my dear friend. But this course I set us upon–the burden of a nation–is mine alone to bear.” He smiled wistfully. “Go in honor, Aidan. Return to your wife and son. I will deliver this child, alone, beyond the legion’s gaze so that hope may yet live on in our hearts.”

“Wait… huh?”

“It is as I say.” Knight Commander Quinn emphasized. “Perhaps Cormac was right to call me a fool… So I will atone for my many sins by–”

“No, no, wait! Hold on just a damn minute!” Aidan exclaimed, waving off the Commander’s notion. After a moment, he looked through his visor into the cold blue eyes of his friend, sighing deeply. “I must say, your self-flagellation is one of your greatest flaws, Quinn.”

“Self-fla–!? I merely meant to not drag my dearest friend with me into the abyss from which there is no return!” Knight Commander Quinn replied, indignant. “I only wish for you and yours to live, is that such a bad–!?”

“—Always one for the dramatics, I see. But did you not hear me speak of our shared oath and a noble death, brother? Our fate was sealed long ago.” Aidan said with renewed conviction. “Don’t let the old bear’s words shake your faith. Not in our sacred mission, or your leadership.”

“Be that as it may…”

“Look upon the face of that child whom you wrested from the Legatus’ iron grip, and tell me the hope of a better tomorrow isn’t worth dying for.” Aidan gestured towards the basket. “Tell me this, and I shall stand down at once.”

“You… You certainly make partings difficult, my friend.”

“Then part, we shall not. The gods will greet us with boundless joy when at last we complete our mission. Together.” Aidan smiled underneath his helmet. “So… who shall be the sword and who the shield?”

Though Knight Commander Quinn could not see his friend’s grin, he could glean the sincerity from his auspicious words and their boundless confidence. His second in command was correct, he wagered. It was not his place to sideline Aidan on the cusp of their greatest challenge before its success was assured.

“Right, you are. Then, as your commanding officer, might I make one final selfish request of you?” Knight Commander Quinn smiled brightly. “Will you be the sword that cuts our way to a brighter tomorrow?”

“As if you even needed to ask.” Aidan nodded.

0.2

Down the Cas River, the pair did travel into the heart of enemy territory, a far cry from the passably secure walls of the garrison. Sneaking around imperial foot patrols in search of Knight Commander Quinn’s trusted associate, and engaging the stragglers proved just as arduous a task as expected.

Aidan gasped as he finished taking a swig of his canteen, imperial blood still dripping from his blade.

“You mentioned The Frail as the child’s salvation, but where are we meeting this associate of yours, Quinn?” Aidan asked inquisitively. “I can imagine they’ve had the border under strict watch since the uprising began.”

“Right. Seeing as there aren’t as many prying ears about, I’ll divulge the order of operations.” Knight Commander Quinn rested on one knee as he explained. “We won’t be passing through the main gates into The Frail for all the reasons you suggested.”

“Oho? Then how will we pass through while avoiding the imperial watch?” Aidan scratched his chin. “Shall we dress up as maidens like how we snuck into that one goblin hideaway to free their captives?”

“Regrettably, I doubt the imperials will be quite so easily fooled as our green friends once were...” Quinn sighed, recalling the tale. “No—rather than taking the front entrance, there’s a small crevasse at the end of the valley that will lead us through the mountains. Directly into the heart of The Frail where my associate is waiting to greet us.”

“Ah, bloody brilliant! Now we just have to make it there in one piece, eh?” Aidan chuckled. “In any case, how’s the kid doing? You know… For all this effort we’re expending for her sake, I still don’t know the little lass’s name.”

“Her name, huh?” Knight Commander Quinn reached into the woven basket, and set aside the blanket within. Two curious purple irises stared back at him as he studied the face of the child.

“Her mother, the queen… she died during childbirth in that work camp just a few days prior and hadn’t the time to name her.” Quinn frowned. “When I returned to report her passing to the king, and introduce his daughter, he too was on his deathbed. But he kept calling her his—our—hope…”

“Perhaps her foster family will find an appropriate name for her in that case?” Aidan noted. “Speaking of, let’s go meet this associate of yours, eh?”

“Right.” Knight Commander Quinn picked up the basket in one arm, and his shield in the other. “Onward!”

And so, the journey—taking the better part of a day—to the end of the valley continued without further incident. A miracle, given the concentration of patrols just outside of Pariah’s Fall. However, this stroke of good luck caused Knight Commander Quinn no shortage of anxiety. Even as they arrived at last to their destination.

Before them, a huge crack in the side of the mountain beckoned to them from within. For on the other side stood their mission’s success, and the young girl’s salvation.

“There lies our path to The Frail.” Quinn stood a few paces ahead. “My associate promised to be along shortly after I blew this…”

From the satchel at his hip, The Knight Commander pulled out the hollowed-out horn of some great beast and blew into it with as much lung strength as he could muster. A loud growl emanated from the object, startling the infant within the basket in the process.

“Apologies, little one. There, there.” Quinn attempted to calm down the child as she cried out.

“Commander, look at that!” Aidan pointed into the crevasse where a glowing pair of eyes suddenly appeared.

“How curious….”

The two men, not knowing exactly what to expect, took one step backward in caution. Out of the darkness emerged something that neither of them were quite expecting, something furry.

“A… Fennec Fox?”

Small and tan with exceptionally long ears for its size, the creature strode right up to the two of them without a care in the world.

“I knew it was a possibility to receive some manner of escort, but for the old biddy to send a familiar in her place…” Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “This goes beyond my expectations.”

“I think it’s kind of adorable… and it got the kid to stop mewling pretty quick, in any case.”

“I suppose you’re right about that…”

The child reached out her tiny arms to the Fennec Fox as it sniffed at the basket resting near the feet of Knight Commander Quinn.

“She’s precious… The light of hope. She’ll make a fine addition to the arcanist’s order when she grows up.” The creature spoke to the shock of the two men. “Why the surprised faces? ‘Old biddy’ got your tongue, youngsters??”

“Did that fennec fox just…chastise you, Commander?” Aidan looked especially puzzled.

“Heaven’s sake, Orla.” Knight Commander Quinn exhaled sharply. “If you had spoken up sooner, I would not have spoken so carelessly. You have my apologies, mean tricks aside.”

“Think nothing of it, boy.” Orla said.

“Orla?” You don’t mean the Orla, do you!?”

“This… is no ordinary fox, as I’m sure you’re now well aware, Aidan.” Quinn explained.

“Aye…”

“She is none other than the shape-shifting den mother of The Frail herself, Orla The Golden.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Aidan shook his head in disbelief. “It’s an honor, Miss Orla. The king always spoke highly of you when he sought your council. I had no idea the Commander here had ever been in contact though...”

The woman was a folk hero amongst those who knew of the Snakekiin, a people lauded for their shape-shifting and arcane magic abilities. Orla was chief among them in skill and standing, but to the empire, she was a witch among savages.

“Pleasantries aside, we can discuss matters further once we’re safely in The Frail,” Orla said. “The village chieftains will want to hear what transpired here in Saoirse…”

“Then let us make haste.”

Orla gathered the basket’s handle in her maw and trotted in the back in the direction of the crevasse, Knight Commander Quinn close behind her. The grass underfoot rustled with the wind, and an uneasy feeling blew in with it.

“Hey, Quinn. Do you think any of the villages have a place to dri—nk!!?” Aidan’s words sputtered from his lips as time seemed to slow to a crawl. “…Huh?”

The man fell swiftly to his knees, and then to his side.

A look of horror flashed across the faces of Knight Commander Quinn and Orla as they turned to face Quinn’s second-in-command.

“Aidan!!!” Quinn yelled out.

A spear of pure obsidian protruded from his chest, having pierced clean through his back. Aidan lay in a pool of his own blood, having perished without even sensing his attacker.

“Well, well. I ought to work on my aim.” A booming voice sounded from a few yards behind Aidan’s lifeless corpse.

“Legatus… VIRTUS!!!” Quinn gritted his teeth at the sight of the hulking figure who appeared.

“Believe it or not, the child was my mark.” The Legatus of the XIII Legion himself, Decimus Virtus, openly mocked Knight Commander Quinn who was still in a state of shock.

“You butcher… Why have you come here!?”

Characterized by his black dragonscale armor, and a lance that could pierce through even the toughest hide, the Butcher lived up to his name with deadly precision.

“When the Emperor bid me to embark on this hunt, I thought the prey all too lacking for a man of my particular talents. I mean, a child? Really!?” The Legatus approached them like a hungry beast, ready to pounce at any moment. “I thought to myself: ‘What does my liege take me for?’ I’ve halted uprisings with my own hand, and he wants me to babysit a whelp?”

Orla, basket still in her possession, took the smallest step backwards. In her wisdom, she knew that one wrong move could send her and the child to oblivion with a well-placed throw of the Legatus’ spear. Watching and waiting for an opportunity was the only course of action.

“But what else do I find, but The Great Witch of The Frail, and the loyal elf of the disgraced King Simeon?” Virtus let out a hearty laugh. “I struggled, admittedly, to find you. But I rounded up a few of your deserters on my way out to the garrison. They sang like songbirds when I promised them their lives. The old fellow was particularly helpful…”

“So, that’s how it is then.”

Cormac and the group of soldiers that had initially fled must have been captured a short distance from Pariah’s Fall, Quinn deduced. Giving up the parts of the plan they were privy to. Or, at least, enough for a skilled hunter like Decimus Virtus to pick up their trail on his own.

“I’m afraid your mission ends here, Knight Commander.” The Legatus said. “I’ll be taking the child, and your head if you would be so kind.”

“Boy, listen closely to me,” Orla whispered a short distance behind the Knight Commander. “If you buy me the time to escape, I swear to the green mother that I will see this child to safety.”

“A valiant last stand, you say?” Quinn chuckled. “I guess I can oblige that request, considering the circumstances.”

“So you intend to fight ‘till the end?” Virtus seemed almost relieved at the prospect of a fight. “And here I was afraid I had crushed your spirit before I could have my fun.”

The Legatus tossed over the discarded blade of the slain knight, Aidan.

“Take this, and make your peace with oblivion, elf.”

“Fitting that I would be afforded the opportunity to cut you down with his blade, butcher…” The Knight Commander took up his shield, and Aidan’s sword, preparing for a fight to the death. “For my kingdom, for my king, for Aidan… I shall smite thee! ON GUARD!”

꧁༒ A knight fights for honor, hoping to repay a debt to an old friend and his kingdom. ༒꧂

꧁༒ A fox trots through the night, holding the hope of a brighter tomorrow in its maw. ༒꧂

꧁༒ A girl, cradled in a basket, begins her journey to take back the homeland she never knew. ༒꧂

This is the Sovereignsong.