Chapter 70: Sacrifices

Yren was startled by the pounding on the door. He’d woken before dawn, as he’d always done before the trip from Hasp to Callisto. During the trip, his wakening was impacted by a myriad of things including where he fell on the overnight guard schedule.

He was doing his morning exercises, trying to keep himself in shape. Sir Givens had suggested it, since he wasn’t working all day hammering at the forge. His mentor had demonstrated several exercises he could do in a short period of time to keep his wrists, fingers, shoulders, arms and legs strong while markedly improving his agility. He’d added a few exercises for his chest and back that he’d seen Ardt do on occasion. His father had often lamented getting older but had been quick to share everything he did with his adopted son.

Yren’s eyes teared up as he thought about his adopted dad. Even now, months after the older man’s death, he was still learning from the man. It was a grave commentary on the man’s importance in Yren’s life.

Yren thought about Ardt a few times every day. He thought when he noticed a particularly peculiar form of metalworking in a fixture or other work. He thought about him when he felt lonely and when he missed being at the forge. He thought about him when he talked to Elva or Teran or Bena. He thought about him just after supper time, when he and his father used to sit together and discuss metal-working techniques and all the little minutiae of their day.

He grabbed the bath sheet he’d prepared and wiped the sweat from his head and the tears from his eyes even as he shook his head to clear it from thoughts of his father. Instead, he concentrated on what he was doing and the strange knocking on the door. ‘Do one thing at a time,’ Ardt had always told him, ‘then move on to the next.’ It was sage advice.

The room he’d been given was rather large, certainly larger than his room in the blacksmith shop in Hasp. The bed was far more comfortable, as well. Almost too comfortable. There were mornings where it was all he could do to climb out of it in the morning.

The room itself was made of some kind of hardened mud spread over the gray stone bricks. Evidently, while the outside was made of hardened quartzite, the inner rooms were made of typical stone held together with mortar. He made a mental note to ask around the town what the mud was called and how it could be made.

Evidently, the person at the door was impatient because the pounding came again, hardly three seconds after the last knocking. With a sigh, he walked to the door. He opened it curiously, only to find Ataya outside. “Ataya?”

The princess pushed in, her heart beating hard and fast as she took in her champion’s shirtless body. There was no fat anywhere on his torso, only hard, bulging muscle. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “You have to hide your armor!”

“What? Why?” Yren asked, confused.

“My mother has issued a new decree,” Ataya explained quickly. She was dressed in a dark blue cotton dress which reached to just above her ankles. Her shoes were flat and had been dyed a dark blue to match her dress. As usual, her wild, red hair lay free around her face, the kinks, waves and curls rolling down to over the protrusions of her breasts under her dress. “From now on, only knights can wear plate armor. For the next few weeks, all armor not owned by knights is to be commandeered and recompense presented to make up for the armor shortfall caused by the recent loss of knights.”

Yren’s face darkened as he thought through the declaration. He knew at once it was targeted at him. It was extremely rare for anyone other than knights to wear plate armor. It was so rare, in fact, he’d never heard of anyone else doing it. Armor was too expensive for anyone other than knights to wear.

The queen wouldn’t have done something like this on her own, though. As her daughter’s champion, she’d likely want him as capable as possible to see to Ataya’s safety. The same could be said for the king. He couldn’t see their hands in this. Which left only one conspirator.

“The bishop,” Yren growled tightly, making the connection in his mind. “I feel his hand in this. I’m not sure how he’s gotten the queen to agree, but this has to be his doing.”

“Well, he can’t have your armor,” Ataya said flatly. Her stormy face and drawn brows clearly displaying how angry she was. “You have to hide it.”

Yren started to reply and then thought through his choices. He really didn’t have any. The queen had made a decree. If he didn’t follow it, he would quickly find himself in a dungeon or worse.

“How?” Yren asked, his hands spreading wide. “They know I have it. If I don’t give it to them, I’m sure I’ll end up in the dungeons or something.”

He drew a deep breath and couldn’t help but chuckle in admiration. The bishop hadn’t appreciated being constantly confronted with the sigils of Kyr and Deia yesterday. Yren had laughed at the man’s disgruntlement. He remembered thinking to himself there was nothing the bishop could possibly do to him.

Obviously, he’d been wrong. It was certainly an interesting reaction. Yren felt a little satisfaction that he had been able to annoy the bishop enough for him to push the queen for this reaction.

“Besides,” Yren continued with a small smile. “It’s not like he can use the armor. It’ll burn anyone who touches it.”

He shrugged again. “And ... I can call it whenever I need it. It’s inconvenient but you shouldn’t worry about it.”

“He’s a bishop of Tyln,” Ataya said doubtfully. “Surely he can use Tyln’s power to touch it.”

“He can try,” Yren said, his eyes narrowing. “He might not like how that ended for Holy Brother Dal.”

“That’s the second time you mentioned Holy Brother Dal,” Ataya said, her face questioning. “I’ve not heard of him before...”

“Ah, Yren is it?” a voice called from the doorway, interrupting the princess. Yren turned to the door and was surprised to see a rather short knight accompanied by two others. “I’m Honor Kirendell, First of the Third. I understand you have armor for me to collect.”

“This is an outrage,” Ataya said loudly. “Yren is my champion. He needs the armor to see to my protection.”

“I understand, Princess, and I sympathize,” the man simpered. “However, I am only doing my job. I was instructed to come here and commandeer Yren Dray-Tulat’s armor.”

“And who gave you this order,” Ataya replied tightly.

“Bishop Renud,” Kirendell replied, confirming Yren’s suspicions. “Under order from the queen herself.”

“I will be talking with my mother,” Ataya argued loudly.

“It’s okay, princess,” Yren said, raising his hand to put it on her shoulder. He dropped it before he touched her. She was the princess. Even if she was his friend, he had no right to touch her.

Besides, it made no sense to punish the knight. No matter his culpability, he was just a small piece in the bishop’s revenge. If it wasn’t him, it would be another knight.

“I’m sure you can talk to your mother and clear all this up,” Kirendell said soothingly. “I am just here to do my duty.”

“Of course you are, Honor Kirendell,” Yren replied with a slight bow. He had suddenly decided to continue the plan Vestra had discussed with him. He didn’t want Kirendell to be able to report he had been upset about the queen’s decree.

Yren paused, taking in the man. He couldn’t have been more than five foot eight. His brown hair was a few inches long, hanging around a square face with a hard, chiseled jaw. The man’s eyes were sunken a bit and his nose was arched and thin. His lips were full and red. He kept his head raised, perhaps to atone for his slight stature but it just made him appear haughty and vain.

“It’s right here, in my arms chest,” Yren said with a bright, even smile. He walked over to the chest, situated neatly at the very foot of his bed. He opened the lock and pulled out the scabbard holding Hatred and Rage, tossing it onto his bed.

“We need ALL the armor,” Kirendell said smugly.

“These are my swords,” Yren said with a wide smile. “As far as I know, my swords are not included in the queen’s proclamation.”

Kirendell looked at Yren closely, then nodded. “Here’s recompense for the armor,” he said, holding out a small pouch.

Yren took it and opened it. His eyes went up in surprise. He could feel his rage rising but he bit it back quickly. “Five silvers? Such a huge sum.”

“That’s not right,” Ataya said hotly. “The going rate for armor is fifteen gildens.”

“That’s the price for new armor, princess,” Kirendell shrugged. “Yren’s armor is used so this is what was authorized in recompense.”

He then turned to the two larger knights behind him. “Bring the chest.”

He turned and walked out of the room. The two men closed the chest, secured the lock and then picked it up between them. They carried it out the door, leaving it open, even as Yren, with a smile, handed Kirendell the key. Kirendell turned and followed the men without a word. He didn’t close the door either.

“I can’t see how you can be so calm about this,” Ataya accused Yren.

“I’m not,” Yren said thoughtfully as he looked at the open door. He was slowly shaking the pouch with the five silvers. “I’ve told you that my armor is a part of me but I’m not sure you quite understand. It’s like ... my arms or my legs. I can ... feel the pieces of my armor, even when they’ve taken them. I ... know where they’re at. I know what happens to them.”

He shook his head. “You need to go and allow me to get ready. We’re meeting Bishop Renud in an hour. I need to wash up and decide what I’m going to wear. I don’t want to be late and deprive the good bishop of the chance to gloat.”

Ilzu opened the door, carefully balancing a silver tray loaded with eggs, bacon and a strange, floury Wenland delicacy one of the cooks had called ‘pancakes’. She had looked dubiously at the round, flat, golden-brown concoction. She wasn’t sure she wanted to have cakes for breakfast, but the cook had assured her they weren’t those types of cakes. You evidently coated them with butter and a sugary syrup before eating them.

“Have you heard the news?” she asked Audette. The empress-an was sitting at the vanity mirror dressed only in her short clothes and brushing her long, red hair. It was normal morning dress for the red-head, though fairly often the young woman would sit in the early mornings just as she had slept, completely naked. Ilzu found her adorable in either dress, though she had to admit she preferred the empress-a sans clothes.

“That smells divine,” she murmured smiling at her best friend and ignoring her growing excitement at the thought of Audette nude. “I definitely smell eggs and bacon.”

Ilzu set the tray on the table as Audette put her brush down and looked over at the feast Ilzu had brought. She licked her lips and unconsciously rubbed at her stomach. If she kept eating like this, pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to fit into her uniform. She knew she’d have to do some heavy exercising later in the day to work off this breakfast.

“Did you hear the news?” Ilzu asked again. When Audette didn’t reply immediately, she simply rolled her eyes. She knew better than to try to get anything out of Audette when there was food to eat. She couldn’t understand how the empress-an stayed so thin when she ate so much. Ilzu felt she had likely gained weight just by smelling the food on the way up from the kitchen.

“I’ve not left the room,” Audette said absently as she picked up a plate and scooped some eggs and bacon onto it. She looked curiously at the flat, round cakes. “What are these?”

“They call them pancakes,” Ilzu shrugged. “Evidently you butter them and stack up two or three then douse them with some of that syrup.

Audette lifted one of them and looked at it curiously. Then, with a shrug, she pulled it onto her plate. She grabbed a knife and a healthy dollop of butter and slathered the cake with the butter. The knife pulled at the top of the round patty, and Audette could see what looked like a regular, if thinner, cake texture inside. She poured some of the syrup onto the cake and sat down in one of the chairs around the table.

“There’s some fruit, too,” Ilzu pointed out. “The cook said some people liked having fruit on those flat cakes. I think there’s blueberries and raspberries.”

Audette cut a small piece of the cake, making sure it had butter and syrup on it. She lifted it up and sniffed at it. It had a delightful aroma which reminded her of a maple tree for some reason. She put it into her mouth and moved it around a bit. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“That is SOOO good,” she moaned around her food. She chewed and swallowed. “The cake isn’t sweet. It’s almost like bread, actually, but airier somehow. The butter and syrup definitely make it sweeter, but it isn’t overpowering.”

The two ate for a few minutes, Audette enjoying her pancakes. Ilzu tried them and liked them but obviously not as much as Audette, who ate three of the cakes.

“You said something about news?” Audette asked as she scooped a few more slices of bacon and the last pancake onto her plate when it was clear Ilzu wasn’t going to eat anymore.

“The queen has made it unlawful for anyone but knights to wear armor,” Ilzu replied after swallowing.

Audette thought about it for a moment as she chewed. “That seems reasonable. Maybe a little heavy handed, but I suppose that’s one way to differentiate the knights from other forces.”

“Yren’s not a knight,” Ilzu rejoined, biting off a piece of bacon.

“Oh,” Audette replied, her eyes widening. “Chaos, that’s right. I’ve only known him in the armor. It’s easy to forget he isn’t a knight. He’s not going to be happy.”

“It gets worse,” Ilzu said, scooping up some eggs and pancake off of her plate. She found the mixture of the two strangely tasty. “The queen also said that for the next two weeks, all armor owned by non-knights was to be commandeered with recompense provided.”

Audette got up immediately, setting her mostly empty plate on the table. She rushed to her chest, digging out her uniform. “Why didn’t you say so? We need to go and head this off. If they get Yren angry enough, I’m not sure he’ll stop with just razing Callisto. He might decide to cut his way through the queen’s platoons as well.”

Ilzu got up slowly, putting her half empty plate on the table. Her face was mostly curious but slightly shocked. “You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?”

Audette stopped with her leather armor halfway up her legs and stared at Ilzu incredulously. “You’ve heard the stories of him in the Battle of Hasp. You’ve seen him in battle when he saved us. You’ve seen his chaos-ridden swords. You’ve seen what he did to those dragons.”

Ilzu quickly moved to her own arm’s chest. “Shit.”

“Your eminence,” Holy Brother Pressel intoned shortly as he entered the room. Pressel allowed his eyes to look up from his slightly bowed position. He had been Bishop Harvig Renud’s secretary for the past few weeks, having been sent by decree of Archbishop Romer himself. “Goodwoman Fenta Roh, answering your summons.”

“Send her in,” Bishop Renud replied without looking up from his rich, cherry wood desk. Dressed in green, as was his wont in mute service to his god, he was busy writing with ink and quill.

“You asked to see me this morning, your eminence,” the woman asked, her voice gravelly. Renud glanced up, down and then immediately looked up again. The woman’s brown hair fairly shone in the dim light of the early morning dawn, streaming in from the windows. Her hair hung in delicate rivulets around her thin, elegant face, contrasting with her pale complexion. Her eyes were somewhat rounder than normal and her nose somewhat slighter. She had narrow, full lips a deep, delicate red in color. They glistened as she looked at him.

As beautiful as her face was, her lush body was even more so. Her breasts swelled from her body, the simple gray blouse straining to contain them. Her hips were well defined, with her black skirt swelling out and then down, hanging just above her knees and showing off, full, well-shaped calves.

Renud had to remind himself to breathe, his tongue coming out to moisten suddenly dry lips. “You’re Fenta Roh, the entertainer?”

The woman smiled a dainty, mysterious smile, her eyes suddenly half-lidded. “I travel from city to city with a small troupe, plucking on the lute upon occasion while the orator spins his tales, or the acrobats display their tumbling.”

“That isn’t what I heard,” Renud said with a smile. “I’m told you are a rare virtuoso with the lute. I’ve heard that people weep listening to you play.”

“I’ve some renown, your eminence,” Fenta said modestly, head turning down as a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“It is said, though, you do not sing?” Renud questioned.

“Alas, I am somewhat talented with my lute,” Fenta remarked. Her gravelly voice was somehow beguiling to the bishop. “Somewhat less so with my voice.”

“Which I’m sure is costing you some coin,” Renud mentioned speculatively. “Music without vocals are not often in high demand.”

“Music with poor vocals even less so, your eminence,” Fenta agreed.

“There was discussion last night that you are leaving late tomorrow night,” Renud remarked, glancing down at the parchment in front of him. His heart was racing and the staff between his legs rising. She had certainly had an effect on him and for a brief moment, all he could think of was taking her right there on his desk.

Unfortunately, he had other plans for the woman which did not call for his staff to pierce between her legs. “For Cava, I think, along with some other stops. But you’re to be in Cava by the winter celebration?”

Fenta looked at the bishop, her face drawn in confusion. “Yes. The plan is to head to Cava by way of Klevel, Fairhaven and then Dunber on the west coast. From Dunber we’ll head to Midtown on the Straits of Morrud, down to Southley and up to Cava.”

“I have a proposition for you, then,” Renud smiled. “You have a lute but no voice and I know of a person with a voice but no lute.”

“A singer who cannot play?” Fenat questioned. “Those are usually not worth their keep.”

“The person I’m thinking of had ... an accident,” Renud replied. “He could once play very well – not as well as you, but well. Sadly, the days of manipulating strings with his fingers are no more. He still has talent with his voice, however.”

Fenta looked at the bishop curiously for a moment. “Even with a voice to add to my lute, I am unlikely to make enough coin to support two,” Fenta said shrewdly. “I’m not sure I want to saddle myself with a singer.”

Renud smiled and opened a drawer. He pulled out a rather large pouch and tossed it on the desk in front of him. “I’d never want to starve a performer of your acclaim. I would guess you make no more than a few silver squares a night, if that.”

He nodded at the pouch on his desk. “You’ll find 50 Gilden in the pouch. They’re yours if you can convince this other entertainer to join you as far as Cava.”

“And after Cava?” Fenta asked, looking greedily at the bulging pouch.

Renud shrugged. “Our agreement ends, and you’re welcome to do as you wish.”

Fenta’s eyes were locked on the pouch. “And this entertainer’s name?”

“Chugad,” Renud said with a smile. “Chugad Lewen.”

Elva, Teran and Bena rushed to Yren’s door as soon as they heard. They knocked and rushed in when Yren opened the door. Teran and Bena grabbed him and hugged him immediately, while Elva closed the door quietly.

“We have some bad news to share with you,” Teran said, holding Yren close. She hoped by hugging him, she could ease his anger.

“What is it?” Yren said immediately, instantly tensing. He looked from Teran to Bena and then over to Elva. “Is it Issa? Are she and Chugad okay?”

“It’s not Issa,” Bena said, her face suddenly puzzled. She pushed back and looked up at Yren cautiously. “The queen has proclaimed ... but you know ... why didn’t Deia know that you knew?”

“You know?” Teran asked carefully, her eyes searching Yren’s face cautiously.

“About the queen’s proclamation?” Yren questioned. “Yes, Ataya was already here about it. They came and got my armor a little while ago.”

“And you just gave it to them?” Elva asked curiously.