The Quest of Lost Balian

[GoodGuyMatt 7065]

THE QUEST OF LOST BALIAN

 

 

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Spoiler

Previous Posts:

 

Part 1:

Part 2:

 

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He found Reinmar just as he had left it. Birds chirped and the domestic animals performed their usual musical routine. The sun was still high up in the sky, white clouds dotting the atmosphere. It was warmer here too, much warmer than the northern capital. Yet, Leon felt cold. It was a cold that ran through his entire body. No. Through his entire existence. Still catching his breath from the long run, the lad sat on the wooden docks with a teary face. He’d stare into the distance, void of motion or words. His head was too occupied for him to do anything. Thoughts of guilt and shame engulfed him. “Knights don’t cry!” were his last concrete thoughts. The ones that ran through his mind now were a mess. He thought about his father and grandfather, both strong, brave men. He thought of the knights he had so imagined in his fantasies. Gallant and honorable, determined and unwavering. Tears didn’t fit these pictures at all, at least not in his mind. He could then see himself back in the Duma hall, crying and yelling, his face was that of a coward. 

 

So long and hard was he thinking that he couldn’t hear the footsteps behind him. He only noticed the other’s presence once his shoulder was touched. This caught him off guard, and the lad jumped from his place with a yelp. Unlucky for him, he had jumped towards the lake in front of him, it wasn’t the most ideal situation. It was a moment of panic, and Leon was unable to do anything about it. The other’s hand reached for him then, tugging at his wrist just in time before he was too far gone. A familiar face appeared in front of Barclay as he turned his head to see both his frightener and savior. It was Johanna. With slight struggle, she pulled him back and onto dry land. It seemed she had chased him all the way from Karosgrad to comfort him. And so she did.

 

As they sat by the Reinmaren docks, the sun appeared to become progressively more intense. The few clouds that blocked it had dispersed, and the children’s faces were hit by slight heat waves, coupled with the northern breeze traveling down from the mountains nearby. So they discussed.

 

“Vur ok now. You can stop crying” she would gently pat the boy’s head comfortingly. A handkerchief was then pulled from her pockets. It was white as they got, and appeared exceptionally clean.

 

“En-entschuldigung” he said mid-sniffs, apologizing in Waldenian as he shook his head at the offered handkerchief “N-nein, es ist gut.” silence befell them, though Leon broke the silence soon after “Ritter weinen nicht.” Knights don’t cry, he added, taking yet another sniff, his skin still somewhat red from his weeping. His gaze traveled around the scenery. First towards the still lake below, then the wooden docks, the legs of which had been covered by moss, and lastly the clear blue sky above. He seemed to inspect just about everything, save for Johanna’s gaze. It was as if the shame he felt was visibly radiating around him.

 

“Hey. There's nie reason to be ashamed. Ea fall over all the time. Ea once fell off the chandelier at the keep. Badly sprained mea ankle.” replied the lass, her gaze following Leon’s as it jumped around the landscape.

 

Leon somehow asked if she had cried then, mostly using gestures and single words from Common to communicate. The Ludovar lass confirmed that she had indeed cried, and cried lots too. The heavy aura of shame and guilt began easing around Leon, he was put at ease somewhat, though then repeated what he had said before “Ritter weinen nicht.”

 

“Trust me Leon. Everyone cries. It’s human nature. Emotion.”

 

It took him a moment of processing, but he finally gave in and agreed. He smiled as he finally turned to Johanna with a nod. He felt at ease now, his mind wondering whether or not his father or grandfather cried. Even if they had, Leon had definitely not seen them. The rest of their time was filled with idle chatting, mostly so by Johanna as she’d carry the conversation, and Leon asking questions and trying to express himself through fingers and gestures. Time passed more quickly now, and before they knew it, the sun was nearing the horizon. It was time for them to part ways, and Leon opened his mouth, ready to say something. “Can we be friends?” he wanted to ask, but the words couldn’t escape him. He had no friends other than his younger brother, Herman. So, his mouth closed shut, unable to seek friendship. He huffed, and after greeting one another, the two cousins went about their separate ways.

 

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Spoiler

 

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“Cling! Cling, cling, cling!” the air was filled with dark smoke, the smell of burning moss and seaweed spread around the small bridge. Steel clinged with steel to the right, and the crackling of fire emitted from the left. Leon was crouched up like a turtle protecting itself, his head lowered and his tears dripping on the oldened stone beneath him. He had not been injured, but his surroundings had overwhelmed it.

 

Four dark figures were positioned all around him. Three to his right and one to his left. The moon shone brightly, lighting up what would have otherwise been an area only lit by the still-burning flames engulfing the moss. He wasn’t in Reinmar, or in Karosgard. He was far from home, a place he had never seen before, a region he had never traveled to. Three of the four figures were covered in steel, and yielded steel. The fourth, even he was unsure what the fourth was covered in and yielded, but it was clearly putting up a fight. A dagger stood not far from him, resting on the ground unprotected, but no one was paying any attention to it. The figures covered in steel could perhaps hear him mumbling in Waldenian as he cried “Knights don’t cry, knights don’t cry.” Yet, he was down and crouched crying. But his words were true. None of the three soon-to-be-knights around him were crying. They were battling valiantly. The two dames, Marie Ruthern and Emelya Kortrevich fought the fourth figure to the right, whilst his father had just laid flame on the previously attacking tendrils of moss and seaweed. It was indeed rather chaotic.

 

Emil saw tongues of bright fire through the smoke. The seaweed had caught aflame properly at last, and in a few seconds, they became nothing but darkened ashes. Leon’s mind was elsewhere, he was unaware of the specifics of the ongoings, but he knew the knights would emerge victorious… they always did. After many curses, grunts, slashes and stabs, the noise surrounding the boy quietened down. His eyes opened, watery as ever, and he directed them towards the knights. The trio now stood above their enemy, a figure made of more moss and seaweed. It laid motionless. 

 

“Lad, it's alright - it's over for now,” one of the dames called over, her voice was mature. Over her shoulder rested the hand of the other dame, the younger one, Emelya, as she was helped up after their struggles.

 

The younger Barclay sniffed as he raised his head up. He gritted his teeth, and with a deep breath, stood up without uttering a word. He reached for the fallen dagger and stared at it. His father was just in front of him, but Leon was unable to see him in the eyes. He had cowered and cried once more… What good of a knight could he become?

 

Emil was brief as ever, “Come on, then-” he murmured a few comforting words in Waldenian before ushering the boy forth with another sweep of his gaze towards the moss. Brief as he was, his father's words were warm, but his son’s youthful pride was violated once again.

 

 

He had followed them to show himself. Just the other day, he had found himself in Karosgrad, preparing to greet his questing father as he prepared to depart for his last trial before becoming a knight. Mindlessly determined as ever, Leon had to follow behind. What if his father needed help during the dangers? How else was he going to show himself as a knight? It was clear that he did not understand that he was only six years of age, his imagination and knightly fascination had become his entire existence.

 

So he followed, to a region unknown, trailing his father and his companions behind on his pony. He was young, but even those younger than him in the house of Barclay were introduced to the basics of horse riding. He had watched the knights from a distance approaching the ancient ruins of Lost Balian, a city half-emerged into the sea. The crumbling, eerie fort was the only standing monument nearby. The knights had begun their journey, climbing through the fallen houses surrounding the fort, and so had Leon. He had struggled greatly, his age was a terrible disadvantage, though his desire and resolve had him going. “I will be a knight” he thought “This is what knights do!” 

 

The warriors of the kingdom had seen it before Leon. It was barely noticeable at first, but the moss and seaweed crawling around the ruins was moving. It didn’t take long before the magic had taken a rougher, more hostile stance. The plant wrapped around itself in a tendril, functioning as a whip to get a hold of the knights’ feet as they ventured atop what used to be residences of the people of Lost Balian. The sun was still visible, just above the horizon. Dusk was a few hours away. As the stalking young Barclay followed behind the struggling knights, it appeared that whoever was controlling the magic had little regard for him. Perhaps his size or look contrasted greatly with that of the tall, armored knights. He had only been whipped lightly by a tendril as he watched the knights fight against their own struggles with admiration. He ran away, losing sight of those he was stalking.

 

This proved to be an advantage. He was disregarded completely by whatever was controlling the moss, now free to explore around to his heart’s content. He first explored around the ruins, trying to find a way in. There appeared to be some potential entrances, though they were too far for him to climb. Round and about he went, before he found it, a formation of stone easy enough for him to climb, leading right to the palisades of the fortress. So he got to work, his feelings, which were a mix of fear, wanderlust, and duty had engulfed him entirely. His steps were uneasy, but confident; indifferent, but persistent. And so he climbed up, and finally saw a hole on the wall big enough for him to go through.

 

The persistent ruins of the fortress of Lost Balian stood in front of him. Carpets of moss had taken hold around the cobblestone floor of bailey. Yet, it didn’t seem to attack it, and so he ventured. He checked every corner and every tower in his proximity, though was unable to find anything useful. That’s when he saw the bridge, leading to the tall, main fort. As he was passing the bridge, his eyes caught a glimpse of black figures to his left. He turned, and looked down, just to see the knights struggling with even more seaweed. They had crossed the oldened ruins, now seemingly scouting around the castle. 

 

One of them was being pulled down into the sand by the seaweed, whilst the other two had their own tendrils to worry about. It was hard for Leon to distinguish who was who, at this distance their armors all looked the same. Nevertheless, he remained hidden still, watching the handy knights at work as each of them fought with their planty aggressors. Slash, slash, slash. In no time they had gotten rid of the many tendrils surrounding them, but it was clear that wasn’t the last of what was to come.

“****-” cursed Emelya as she slid through the sand, coming to a stop as she raised herself to her feet once more. Beneath her helmet, her pupils dilated, the potion of acuity she had drank previously taking effect in through her veins, her reflexes heightening, “We need to get to higher ground!”

 

At that, Leon glanced at the bridge’s surroundings. That’s when he noticed a slope leading straight to where the knights were. It seemed climbable, a way for them to reach inside the castle. Without hesitation, Leon decided to make his presence known, and let out a childish shout “Papa, up here!”

 

All of the knights were caught by surprise, their helmets turning towards Leon in synchronized motions. Their faces were hidden, but their body language alone seemed much too confused at what they had just heard, especially Emil. His heart dropped as Leon's voice rang out, his hidden expression one of terror as his eyes lighted upon the boy. 

 

“Who the ****?” Marie’s muffled voice inquired to no one in particular. She was as shocked as any of her companions

 

“My- my son- he-” mumbled Emil as he stumbled. Clearly, his panic had overtaken any notion that what he was seeing was a magic trick.

 

“This is why yam niet having kids.” commented Emelya in frustration. Soon, the trio began making their way up the rocky slope leading to Leon. In turn, the lad would continue shouting in Waldenian for them to come, his voice ringing quite loudly. Unfortunately for him, the three Haeseni were not the only ones who had taken note of him. Behind him, yet another tendril formed, one which he did not notice until it was too late.

 

A single whip sound was heard as Leon was attacked by the splashing tendril, it was a hard hit, especially for a small child his size. It was the first time Barclay had ever felt like he was gone flying. He was launched straight towards the trio, who stumbled back, but got a hold of him. After making their way up to the bridge, with the child in tow, the group of the Haeseni had found themselves in the sticky situation above the bridge. Surrounded by a magic knight from one side, and attacking moss from the other.

 

The father-son duo focused on the sea of moss enclosing around them. Whip. Yet another tendril had wrapped itself around Emil’s left hand, as the senior Barclay attempted to grab his dagger with his free hand. The moss was quick at noticing, and sent yet another whip to immobilize him. As such unfolded before him, Leon clenched his teeth, adrenaline had begun rushing through his body ever since he was struck and sent flying some minutes ago. Without second thought, he launched towards the tendril attacking his father, successfully preventing it from immobilizing Emil, who made quick handiwork to cut it off, handing Leon the dagger soon after.

 

 

It was that same dagger that the Reinmaren lad stared at now. His eyes traveled between his father’s weapon and the downed magic knight, its posture composed of more moss, seaweed and tendrils. It was obvious to the Haeseni that this was the work of a druid, and so they proceeded forth. The deep dark of the night had settled in by now, and the area was only luminated by the reflecting moonlight. So to not waste any time, the group of the Haeseni made their way into the main building. The only visible entrance appeared to be a set of ladders leading up to the roofs. They climbed in one by one. Despite the age of the ruins, the quality of the ladders seemed to have persisted. Weird…

 

Once at the top, scaffoldings appeared in front of them, raised just to the sides of the roof. It was unclear whether it was always there, but it definitely wasn’t strong enough to hold the weight of the three fully-armored warriors. They had to go one by one, and so they did. As they went around the roofs, Leon had gone on his own once more, his mobility allowing him to see and move more easily than his companions. He began climbing the roofs, an activity somewhat familiar to him already. He had practiced lots of it atop the many roofs of Whileburg, even though he probably would not want his mother to be aware of it. Eventually, his climbing proved fruitful. He found a way to climb onto the window of a tower, and, upon inspection, he saw an opening leading straight into the building.

 

He called for the three to approach, and so they did. “Papa, can I go in? It’s easier for me” he requested as he eyed Emil. Indeed, the opening leading inside was rather small, and full of cobwebs. Either way, Leon wanted to be useful now, his previous weeping had caused him great shame, one that he had to repay. After consideration, he was allowed to go in, and so he did. Upon entering, he took a couple of zig zags, and finally found himself in a room. It was an aviary tower, some birds still flew around, and the place was surprisingly well kept, especially for some abandoned ruins.

 

“I am not telling Kaytlyn about this.” admitted Emil as he awaited for his son to report back.

 

“We're niet telling Kaytlyn about any of this.” responded Marie, the two of them seemed rather on the edge already, considering the previous fight, though in contrast, Leon was as enthusiastic as he’d ever been. He wanted to be useful, and this was his chance. With no armor on him, the lad had it easy to move around, and so he found some letters. The writing on them was foreign, nothing like any of the knights would’ve encountered, or likely anyone in Haense for that matter. As the young Barclay explored, Emelya had found another way into the room.

 

After handing the writing to the to-be Dame, Leon decided to push his usefulness, and perhaps even his luck, to another level. He went to explore on his own. The armored trio was left behind, having to figure out another way to get in. The young one amongst the group had used this opportunity to go further in. He passed rooms and halls, going lower and lower into the keep. Finally, he entered a particular room, bigger than any he had encountered before. To his surprise, lit chandeliers and torches provided proper lighting into what’d otherwise be a pitch black hall. Stairs led down to an open area, many paintings remained hung on the walls. He looked about, now completely on his own, the others were still some way off.

 

Then he heard it, from ahead, a narrow tendril of moss quietly - but quickly - whipped out from the shadows, going to wrap around Leon's neck. It had come out of the dark, but the lad had been quick on his feet. Despite going in alone and quickly, he had been cautious. His eyes caught a glimpse of the oncoming tendril before he pushed himself backwards. In turn, the green whip moved far quicker than the ones outside; as the young one moved, so too did it, tracking him as it continued to try and snare him.

 

Leon reached for the dagger his father had given him, trying to protect himself, his fear of the tendrils had escaped him. Perhaps watching them burnt so easily by his father had calmed his fear down. After all, he was here on a quest, he couldn’t back down. He swung the dagger in the most unkempt manner imaginable. It went left and right without aim, as if he was giving a last fighting attempt.

It struck him again, this time rather speedily. The whip had become much thinner, it bent around easily, whilst maintaining its strength composure. Had it hit the boy, he wouldn’t have made it out easily.

The whip was cut down as soon as it launched itself from an attack… but it wasn’t Leon’s blade that had accomplished the task…

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

Luckily for the lad, Emelya had been closer than the Barclay and Ruthern behind them. She peered from the railing down on Leon, and, as soon as the lad was about to be snared by the incoming attack, she had jumped valiantly to his defense. So she had succeeded. The end of the tendril fell to the ground right in front of Leon, devoid of any life or magic that was once controlling it.

 

Soon enough, the entire party had entered the large room and descended the stairs. The area around was maintained nicely, as if being used as a residence. Yet, thick cobwebs dotted the walls and corners, it was as if they were allowed to grow despite the hall’s otherwise orderly appearance. That’s when they saw it.

 

From the doorway, a shape stepped out.

 

“Please, let us talk this out instead of more fighting.” Emelya was quick to resort to peace, as she had even before during the quest. Their task was to collect ancient maps, after all.

 

In the dim light that luminated the room, the shape was … odd. It was robbed in a long coat, and it wore an ornate mask of wood and metal. What was most bizarre, though, was that tiny strings of moss and weed seemed attached to every inch of its body, connecting to some other part of the castle. Was this the true magic caster? “ … Heugh,” came a grunt from under the mask.

 

The Kortrevich raised an eyebrow at the grunt, “We merely come for the maps, to spread the knowledge they contain. We seek positions of servitude in our Kongzem, as Knights, and this is our quest.”

 

The figure slowly tilted its head. There was a … plant-like quality about it, as if weeds had long since replaced flesh. “Cvasa Flexia?” It murmured in some odd tongue, but when it spoke again, the words, though dry and terse, were Common. “Who told you … there was a Stone here …?” 

 

Whilst exchange continued, Emil's eyes roamed the room in suspicion. As its voice rang out in common, however, his head whipped back to face the keeper. “A stone..?” He murmured with furrowed brows.

 

“You won't … have it,” the figure - it seemed to be male - rasped. Silence befell the room for a brief moment, before the shape spoke once more “Who told you,” he repeated, more harshly. The figure's cognitive functions were unclear, but it seemed capable of understanding most of what they said. “Tell me. Oviradal? Aska?” it mentioned strange, unknown names even to the Haeseni. They admitted such.

 

The figure spoke slowly, though seemed to listen intently as the Haeseni conversed. They had inquired to receive masks, something that caught the figure off guard. It had spoken of a stone, and appeared to be fixated on such. “… M … maps?”

 

“Of the lost city-” added Emil.

 

“You … come for … maps …?”

 

“We do.” confirmed Emelya as Marie affirmed with a nod. Leon didn’t speak anymore, and simply watched.

 

The entire hall seemed to creak as one of the moss lines vibrated. “ … Heugh …. Where …?”

 

“That's what we are trying to, ah, figure out.” replied the older, Ruthern dame.

 

“ … You are … Temple … Knights?” It was apparent the figure seemed very disoriented, or … sleepy, even.

 

“We come from the Kongzem of Hanseti-Ruska and merely seek these maps.” informed Kortrevich before replying to the question “Close enough, yes.”

 

“Kong …. Zem …” The word was clearly unfamiliar. “Is that … Oviradal? He … knows there is a Stone here …” there was no doubt about it. The figure was as old as it seemed. It spoke of strange names, and was unaware of neither the current politics or entities. Whatever it was guiding, it was indeed something old enough to be found in such ancient ruins.

 

Back and forth they went, and the to-be knights explained their origins, but it was in vain, the figure neither seemed to understand nor care, for such information aided none of its goals and tasks. It was clearly uneasy around them, almost scared now that it was facing them head on. 

 

“ … So you … only … want … maps?” it uttered yet again, its voice deep, almost mystic.

 

“Yes,”

 

“How do I know … Oviradal did not send … you? I will not let you have … the Stone.” None of them knew what stone he was referring to, neither did they seem bothered enough to ask.

 

“Your stone is your business.”

 

“ … Heugh …” The figure, however odd, did not seem crazy. It was clear from the power he wielded that he was protecting something here. “If you … take a map … you will … go?” He seemed apprehensive. “No, no … Oviradal would not … the Rimeveld … he … his own stone is … Heugh ….” the figure began mumbling.  He seemed … overwhelmed. At least it was clear the fellow was only aggressive out of a sense of territory, but he seemed … difficult to place.

 

“Rimeveld, the region of snow… how long have v- you been here?” it seemed Emelya wanted to dig in more.

 

“TAKE THE MAP” the figure snarled abruptly, suddenly impatient. So the knights’ attention turned to their left, towards the wall filled with many paintings. They had noticed that maps laid atop the counter, and so Marie walked towards them. “WAIT!” the strange voice beaconed. “ … Not that one ….” At that, the questers stopped.

 

Narrow moss strings suddenly sprouted from the roof and walls, pulling down certain maps. In the brief moments before that, they might notice all those maps had dots in certain locations. One of the dots seemed to be on this place, and another in  the Rimeveld, amongst others they did not have time to place. It was clear to the trio that those were the locations of the stones, but they didn’t make much of it. They were there for other knowledge, after all.

 

 

So, the quest was nearing its end, so far rather anti-climatically so, as some would comment. 

 

“If you … lie, I will … kill you, and Oviradal ….” it had warned them, and it seemed serious.

 

Only then was Leon’s voice heard again. “Papa, can he pull out a book about knights too?” inquired the lad as he looked to Emil “I want to read about the temple knights!”

 

The older Barclay glanced to the keeper for a moment, as if debating. It took him a while, but he finally asked “..Knight books.. Know anything about knights?” he paused once asking, as if hoping he weren’t about to regret the decision and have them all die there.

 

“Temple Knights? You … you ARE … Temple Knights?” inquired the figure back as the nooses above quivered. At that, Leon smiled widely as he moved to eye the Keeper, tilting his head a bit, hoping he were to get his hands on some more knightly stories. 

 

 “We aren't.” insisted Emil “We belong to the Order of the Crow.”

 

“Not … heugh … not … to keep, to contain, to hide ….” without really answering the Barclay, the guardian only muttered to himself in a half-crazed way, the eyeholes staring straight at Marie. It simply stared, as if being locked in a debate on whether to kill them or not.

 

“Let us leave him be.” insisted the younger Dame, already preparing to leave in an instant.

 

“Never return,” he blurted at last, as if he had to force the words out. “Never. Balian … Balian sleeps. Yes, yes.”

 

“Take this venture as your lesson, lad-” Emil turned to his son as he received neither books nor answers. The younger Reinmaren nodded singularly at that, and heeded the words. 

 

He then turned to the figure, and, still enthused by the thrill of the quest, waved as the lot prepared to take their leave. “Good night Balian! Sleep well!” greeted Leon in Waldenian.

 

As they exited the castle, they found the rays of sun pouring onto the bailey. The night had passed, and so had their struggles. They had acquired the maps they came for, and did so without a scratch. As was customary for any occasion, everyone checked on one-another, if anyone was harmed or not. No signs of harm appeared, and they made their way out without a second thought, already greatly tired, the Haeseni party departed back on their stallions, taking their leave back to the Kingdom they served. So tired were they in fact, that Leon wasn’t questioned or scolded until after they were back home.

 

Spoiler

This one was a hella long one, but a pleasure to write. As always, any feedback is appreciated, and I hope the writing is enjoyed :)

HUUUUGE thanks to @Xarklyfor hosting the event and letting me stick along. Also big thanks to @Lmcfc, @sarahbarah, @jaymock7 and @Liokvfor the very fun RP!

 

[ScoutTheWitch 360]

A few hours before her knighting, Dame Emelya Eloise Kortrevich reminisced about the Knight's Quest she shared with the squires, and the young lad. He reminded her a bit of herself when she was his age, the determination, bravery. Looking over her things, she nodded, "Ea hope this serves him well, as it did eam." She wrapped up the bundle of cloth containing something once gifted to her and fastened it to the side of her pack.

[Liokv 167]

"Your majesty," Emil Barclay's head dipped into a low nod of respect. He then spoke loudly before the king's court: "My son, Leon-" He laid a gauntleted hand upon the boy's shoulder, "I see in him a passion- determination to pursue knighthood like no other." He recalls the boy's unforeseen participation in his own knight's quest...  "He seeks to follow the path of his forefathers- Ser Brandt, Ser Cedric, and Ser Reinhardt." He paused then, casting a short glance to the ground, before returning his gaze to Sigismund with determination shining in his eyes: "..should it please you, I ask that you take Leon as your page- to be taught both the stories and the realities of knighthood."

Edited March 17, 2022 by Liokv

[Tabby64 1295]

Spoiler

I know there was supposed to be some sort of st eventline there but it never happened. Quite sad, anyways cool post