Chapter 47: Stormguard

War makes strange allies. Long cherished principles are swept away by the tides of war. The ebb and flow of battles often forces people to make decisions they would much rather avoid. Take the people of Stormguard, for example. Almost without exception, the population of Stormguard despised their elven neighbours, but now the good citizens need to rely on the elves for survival. The events in the region around Stormguard over the last nine months have drawn this sleepy market town into centre stage of a civil war.

Stormguard is located at the headwaters of the fertile valley that provides Thurn city and its surrounding towns with most of its food and minerals. Six months ago, Stormguard became the unwilling bastion of the Emperor’s unsuccessful attempt to defeat the coup against him. That coup has been lead by a junta of three, headed by my nemesis, the Chief Procurator. Now the civil war has exhausted its main protagonists, who can no longer arm and pay their soldiers. The proud people of Thurn have descended into a leaderless rabble, prone to random acts of violence by warriors who owe their allegiance to whoever pays them gold.

I’ve only travelled through Stormguard once before. That was when I was undertaking an investigation into the disappearance of adolescent elves during their annual early-winter trek from their seasonal jobs, to the elven ghettos in Thurn’s main towns and cities. At that time, Stormguard was forbidden territory for elves. The local citizens were among many Thurnian traditionalists who believe in racial purity and the superiority of Thurnians. To them, elves were ... perhaps, still are ... nothing more than beasts of burden to exploit for Thurnian gain. However, for the moment, the twenty wilderness elves escorting us are tolerated by Stormguard’s citizens ... provided the elves don’t venture into the better parts of town.

I should perhaps clarify before I go further that my references to north, south, east and west are the directions recognised by the Atenex, Merope, Mariners, and indeed everyone else on this planet ... except those of Thurn. For some unknown reason, Thurn’s maps refer to north as south, and east as west. Thurn’s rebellious ‘western’ cities are, in reality, in the east of Thurn. Although I am Thurnian myself, I’ve become accustomed to looking at maps with the more widely accepted orientation.

The vast forests to the south and east of Stormguard are home to an increasingly large proportion of Thurn’s elven population. Now, thanks to the civil war, the forests are also home to many Thurnian civilians, whose homes and livelihoods have been destroyed by the war. For the last few months, the goals of the coup have been relegated to little more than an excuse to settle vendettas. Long simmering rivalries between powerful Thurnian men and women both fuel, and are fuelled by, the upheaval caused by the coup. Some use the coup as an excuse to expand their own influence and wealth. Racial purists have used the upheaval to persecute elves of all ages. Most of the elven population has either been rounded up and ‘resettled’, or they have fled to the southern forests and beyond. There are unconfirmed rumours that several hundred elves in Thurn city have fortified the abandoned cloisters that had previously been assigned to them as an elven ghetto. For months they have been under siege by the Chief Procurator’s soldiers.

Thanks to Makareta’s and Aputa’s excursions into Thurn over recent months, Cassandra and I probably have a better understanding of the current situation of Thurn’s multiple conflicts than anyone in Stormguard. The valley north of Stormguard, as far as Thurn city and the sea beyond, is controlled by a loose alliance of eight different armed groups. While nominally operating under the junta’s banner, the loyalty of some of those groups is tenuous at best. Bandits who reputedly proclaim loyalty to the Emperor, occupy the high mountains that border the western side of the valley. It’s their presence that keeps the valley warlords allied to the junta. As for the Emperor, then there has been no news of him for many weeks. Stormguard effectively changed loyalty to one of the junta’s allies when many of the Emperor’s mercenaries simply accepted a better offer from Lord Harken.

“Lord Harken has no interest in meeting with elves or their Thurnian sympathisers,” says the sergeant in his delayed response to Cassandra’s demand to meet with whomever is in charge.

“And I have no interest in meeting with Lord Harken,” replies Cassandra. “When I demanded to see your leader, I was referring to the Chief Procurator.”

The sergeant finds Cassandra’s request amusing. A brief bout of levity that ends abruptly when Aputa places the blade of her finely crafted elven knife against the sergeant’s throat. He belatedly realises that he and his men are in the company of armed elves carrying weapons far superior to the battered and worn implements at their sides.

“I’m sure the sergeant doesn’t mean any offence,” says Cassandra, gently drawing Aputa away from the confrontation. “Now, sergeant. I repeat my request. I wish to meet with the Chief Procurator. An escort by you and your men would make our journey simpler, but you are by no means essential.”

“And what recompense will my men and I receive for our services?” asks the sergeant.

“Since presumably the grateful thanks of Lord Harken is insufficient incentive for you to undertake this small task, and payment in gold could be misconstrued as a change in your loyalty, what payment do you desire?”

“My men’s cocks have been sorely mistreated. Throughout the last Rutting Season we were stationed in the mountains, where we were denied feminine company. Now that the elves have fled into the wilderness, we have no means of enjoying the urges a woman in heat brings.”

“Ah! I understand,” intervenes Aputa. “You are suggesting payment is provided by those Elf Maidens in our party who are in heat. If they are prepared to service your cocks, then are we able to reach a deal?”

“We are,” replies the sergeant.

Aputa discusses the subject with the elves escorting our party. Eleven of the twenty wilderness elves escorting us are adults, of which five are currently in heat. While I’m more than willing to satisfy any sexual needs of our accompanying Elf Maidens, the sergeant’s proposal is neither offensive nor unusual in these circumstances. Ten minutes later, a deal is struck and our enlarged party sets out on the road to Thurn city.

We travel on foot as the road is intermittently blocked by checkpoints manned by local mercenaries demanding tolls for safe passage. Few farmers and merchants bother to transport their goods to the markets in Thurn city. Consequently, places like Stormguard have ample food and goods, while the population of Thurn city goes hungry. Travelling on foot means we can easily circle around these hazards. We find a safe place to stop for the night, and the sergeant and his men are allowed their first instalment for their services. It always strikes me a hypocritical that a Thurnian man can profess hatred and loathing for elves, but he is more than happy to bury his cock deep inside one. Whether that is some form of male racial dominance power-trip, or simply sexual urges overriding everything else, would undoubtedly provide ample research material to keep scholars amused.