Before the Siege

[Seuss 1056]

 

Within Me

 

 

---

 

There was not a dull sound in the imperial capital as swarms of coalition armies under the banner of Man bustled through her streets. What were once empty shopping districts now lined with eager merchants yelling over one another to sell their wares. In harder times, shops would be closing their doors and boarding windows, but Rittersberg saw no enemies capable of collapsing her walls, and so the stores were open, restaurants were filled, and smiles plastered across the people’s faces.

 

Individuals filed in and out of the Imperial barracks, carrying with them weaponry, tabards, rations and canteens for the impending fight. There was nowhere to stand without bumping into someone, and nowhere to sit as all the tables and chairs were cleared away to make room for the military.

 

Atop the execution platform, where no one stood on such a day, sat a small hunter. A lone figure cloaked in forest green with a hood that hid his rusty, long hair. His face was hidden behind the skull of a deer, a trophy of his past that separated him from the world.

Despite the grandiose gathering of soldiers, hired-arms, and citizens alike all bumping shoulders trying to find space, it felt as though Cassian had nobody by his side. A forbidden circle around him where no one crossed - at least he felt this way. There was endless noise, and yet under the skull helm it was silent. Many colors belonging to dresses, coat of arms, and public scenery painted the world before him, and yet through the deer’s hollow eyes it all appeared grey. 

 

Despite the dense crowd, Cassian managed to spot certain individuals scattered across Rittersberg’s layout. A red-haired Tawantinsuyin by the name Kusi - his closest friend. He stands with his father, Tupaq Amaru, as the duo apply war paint to their faces. The markings held meaning, and from the way a father looked down at his son with pride, Cassian knew the patterns his taller friend wore were important to his people.

 

A moment passes and a small lady squeezes between Norlandic soldiers. She was the same height as Cassian, and wore a particular headdress to cover her recent shave. It was Aurelian, of course, coming to Kusi’s side with a childish smile on her face. The two lit up when they made eye contact, and although Tupaq remained stoic as he often does, Cassian could not help but notice the look of disdain across the elder Tawantinsuyin’s visage upon Aurelian’s arrival. His friends looked so awkward whenever they approached each other. With all that has happened lately, it brings the hunter amusement that his friends can be bashful the day of the siege.

Further down by the clinic could Cassian spot another pair. Pomponia and Koda, the former a friend since he was a few moons old, the latter an addition in his more recent years. They helped Sir Antonius dawn his abyss black armor. Pomponia’s mother would have assisted, if she was not busy holding her husband’s handkerchief to her nose as the knight reassured her endlessly. Cassian still could not hear them, but the mannerisms of that family radiated a warmth anyone could have described.

 

The small hunter found his hand absent-mindedly running across the face of his axe. A fixation of his that developed after the Illivira slaughter he lived through. Despite being surrounded by the entirety of the Empire’s force, he still felt in danger. He felt alone, yet watched. Shadows dancing in and out of his peripheral, disappearing just as he found the courage to look. Perhaps the mask he fastened out of an animal’s skull was playing tricks on him. Or the years he spent alone in the forest from a young age, cut off from society have developed his fears to a greater height than before.

 

A glint of a sword caught his eye by the gate entrance. Only one person would be drawing their sword and holding it so - Cesári. A raven-haired farfolk dawned in enough chainmail to win the war himself. Often he had trouble at the gate entrances, but after a brief back and forth with the guards, he added to the crowds surplus numbers. Another of his more recently made friends, who soon found himself shuffling towards the Rosavena warriors. Among them was Amalia - another of his childhood friends. The sight of her gave off the assumption she had cried for hours before this moment, and perhaps that was the case, but she was back to her usual smiles now.

 

Although the eyes of the skull atop his head looked forward, the hunter’s gaze underneath fell to his lap. As if the energy left his body, he had hardly the strength to clench his hand. They were all with family - with friends, and yet he sat on a platform awaiting the call to depart down South. He kept his head down, not bothering to look around for his own family. So much has changed in the years of his absence in House Basileus, and the hands of fate squeezed his heart for every year he tormented them with the thought of his own death.

 

His twin sister, Cassia, and his mother, Rhosyn, laid in their bedrooms with an incurable illness. A terminal condition they received some years back, and no physician has seen to their recovery. He learned this from his father the day he finally returned. Cassian had hoped the reunion would be a merry one. He would bring in his latest hunt, scare his older sister, Anastasia, as he dressed the animal on the dining table. Perhaps receive cheers from Sibyl, and earn his mother’s scornful lecturing. 

 

But the small hunter brought home no game. The sight of his aged father brought pain upon himself. The bloodied handkerchief his father coughed into added another family member to the list of inevitability. Cassian was alone, and he would continue to be alone.

 

A horn rang out over the city square, signaling for everyone to prepare for departure. Cassian willed himself back to the present and pressed himself upwards to his feet. A quick check over his body confirmed all that he needed for this final front against their Dwarvish enemies hidden within the mountain range. His hunting axe, his many daggers, and his bow and arrows. Just as his foot came up to leap down from the execution platform and fall into rank, a hand fell to his shoulder.

 

As the small hunter flinched and spun, hand at the ready to rip a weapon from its holster, he found himself freezing up at the sight of his father’s armor. The ebony armor with golden patterns etched across the surface lead up to that tired expression. Cassian had fought in the previous field battle without realizing his father participated as well, and the two never met in that bloodbath until well after.

 

As Iohannis’ hand fell from his son’s shoulder, he soon spoke: “Are you alright, my son? Have you not steeled your heart for what is to come yet?”

 

“I am ready, Pa.” replied the small hunter, letting his hand fall to his side and away from that dagger he attempted to withdraw.

 

“Might I hear my son say it, and not the hunter before me?” Soft spoken words that the roaring army would otherwise drown out, but its meaning carried what a father conveyed to his son.

 

Cassian’s hand motioned upwards between the pair of them. Hesitantly, he grasped the snout of the deer’s skull and tilted it back, dropping the hood of his cloak in the process. Green eyes, belonging to a pale face, looked upwards, allowing his rusty hair to part and fall along the sides of his head. A strand of hair fell down his face, revealing the young adult who was hidden away.

 

Iohannis, although weakly, managed a smile on his face. His right hand, void of any rings, raised to part that last strand away from his son’s visage. “My boy. You descend from Novellen, and dragonsblood flows through your veins. I hope you come to realize your face is your most powerful asset. Try not to hide it.”

 

His father was not the first one to mention his unusual habit of wearing the mask. It scared children, and alerted many guards who did not know him. It kept those close to him an arms-reach away at times too. Cassian knew this, but he felt safest behind it. “. . . I’ll try.” Was the only response he could offer his father.

 

The smile Iohannis carried refused to falter despite his condition. “I will see you when we return, my son. For now, I have to prepare our levy.” And with that, the head of Basileus departed into the crowd.

 

One moment Cassian could spot the back of his father, the next he was out of sight completely. “Alone again…” He mumbled to himself. He would ride into battle alone, slay the enemies alone, and return home alone. Perhaps the after party will cheer him up, but he was never one to stick around large gatherings long.

It came time that a second horn blew from the highest tower. Soldiers hugged their wives a final time, children ran for the side streets to avoid being trampled, and roaring calls of chivalry and honor clashed with calls of damnation upon the enemy. The unstructured, clattering noise of shuffling soon transformed to an orchestra or organized footsteps pounding the loose gravel underneath. Cassian ran his hand along the face of his axe once more, preparing himself to turn around and take the first step. 

 

His chin tilted upwards, examining the individual details of each red brick that made up the monument of  a city barrack that loomed over the square. The winds carried his hair behind him, and his cloak momentarily carried away, revealing the numerous weapons on his person designed for hunting all walks of life - even the undead kind. It was time to go to war.

 

“Cassian!”

Hearing his name yelled out like that caught the hunter off guard. Surely his father has not returned that soon, or picked up an odd accent along the way. The winds died down and his attire settled along his back as he turned around. Below him, standing in front of the execution platform was that red-headed Tawantinsuyin, Kusi; his best friend. Beside him was Aurelian, holding an odd package of rations. He noticed one on Kusi’s belt, and next to him stood Cesári, who opted to strap his rations to the hilt of his sword for now. Pomponia and Koda stood next to one another per usual, and their gaze too focused atop the platform.

 

“We are ready to head out! Aren’t you joining us?” Came the call of Kusi, who yelled his name prior. The invitation, albeit common for that group of friends, pinged through the hunter’s heart. Just a moment ago they were with their families. They were all prepared to be with their loved ones through the fight, whether waiting here or marching along with.

 

Cassian glanced over his shoulder briefly, his body instinctively expecting someone else with the same name to be standing there, but he was alone on that stage.

 

“I made sure it was packed with Elk jerky.” Came the tune of Aurelian.

“I was hoping you could carry mine as well, just in case I have to draw my sword.” Cesári added.

 

The hunter looked back to the group, his face carrying a display of disbelief. Part of him assumed these two disliked him, and kept him around merely because of mutual benefits and friends. Was it in his mind?

 

“When you guys conquer the mountain, we can go scout the stars from their highest peak!” Came the sing-song tune of Pomponia.

 

“You should keep the mask off more often, Cassian. It robs you of your true beauty.” Tagged on Koda from beside the Helane noble.

 

Perhaps one of his first friends, and one of the longest. Pomponia and Cassian were rough around each other growing up, and the latter came to believe she only tolerated him now on behalf of noble practice. Koda, her guard by choice, always seemed to gravitate to Kusi, and so Cassian only believed himself a hindrance when he and Koda interacted.

 

“I need someone to watch my back.” Was the final sentence uttered by Kusi. There was no reason given, and no reason needed. It was not a request or a demand. It was an expectation one brother held for another. A warrior laying down his trust onto someone they know will keep them safe. No one else could ask Cassian this and make it mean so much while speaking so little.

 

The hunter raised his hand up, moving it over his face. As if tears were ready to form on the youth’s eyes, but he opted to press his hair back, revealing a grin befitting a gremlin of war. His hand took a hold of the mask resting on his rear shoulders and hefted the skull up, dawning it properly.

 

“Let’s take the damn mountain.”

 

Spoiler

Just a lil narrative post taking place tomorrow right before the siege

 

[truelarper 593]

 

 

He brooded on the hill like a young wolf not yet blooded. The wind tugged at his hair, the thunder of the cannons shaking the bones of the earth that upheld the dwarven walls. Below, the tents lay—his panaka’s standard snapping like a whip to the horizon, men drifted through smoke like ants.

 

 The cannons roared again. He did not flinch. His hearing was dull, as though the world had retreated from him.

 

His father laughed among familiar warriors, as if war was both the feast and the hearth—and so it was in the heart of the Kondorisi, where blood and brotherhood burned in the same flame. Koda’s voice rolled on with quiet wisdom, unheard, while Aurelian painted at the edge of his sight, her work lost on him.

His gaze held to the hills and the stone beyond. He pictured the dwarves—short, rigid, hewn from rock itself. Did they pray in their halls? Did their gods listen beneath their mountain roots?  The thought gnawed at him, yet he would never know. For there was no mercy commanded by the divine Hadrian the First.

 

Edited March 21 by truelarper

[MonteGiant 891]

 

 

↢ ⊰ ☼ ⊱ ↣

That Blood of Eshaenveurd, that youthful Man-At-Arms, that one-eyed Cesàri de Savoie, would pray within the chapel of Rittersburg. His form is that of a tailored mail and a dashing surcoat displaying his arms and those of every Prince of Savoy before him. That youth would clasp his metal-draped hands against another, his golden rosary within his grasp, dangling as he mutters towards himself in prayer. Words do not escape him, yet his mouth moves in solace as the warmth of GOD surges through his being. “AMEN.” Did he finally gasp aloud, his prayer finished, and there he stood, placing that simple nasal helm upon his head, placing that swordbelt over his shoulder, and finally gripping upon that Banner of the Black Sun. He would state those infamous words of his house as he moves alongside his allies, a boom to the heavens…

 

“Blood For Ashford!”

 

[Cheese 8883]

Anastasia, like the rest of her Household, prepared for the battle ahead. A pit of dread filled her stomach, as was usually the case when she was brought to remember the circumstances which brought her family to the Empire. What if something else were to happen, to her brother or father, during the siege? She could scarcely bear the thought, especially considering her mother and sister's poor health. How was she meant to shoulder the burdens of keeping her family together if they split apart?

 

Whatever anxieties lay deep in the Baroness's stomach, she would never allow to rise. She would make more another snide comment towards her brother in the morning as they prepared for the ride. She would get scolded by her father for it too. But the familiar spats of her kin warmed her, and offered some relief. For at the end of the day, no matter what happened, Anastasia knew the love between her siblings ran deeper than their words could ever let on.

[Navigator 4260]

1 hour ago, Cheese said:

Anastasia

Nafis-, no, Amyas steeled his resolve. He took a moment to remember what he fought for. Who he fought for. 

The Inquisitor was perched on the half-walls of the Rittersburg bridge, staring out at the river beneath. He smiled the Sun's smile, beneath the helmet.

 

"For her. For the Emperor, and for God."

[TaraJess 2848]

Through a busy crowd, Aurelian pushed through and planted herself at Kusi's side. That veil was pulled tight to her head as a fresh dagger was handed off to the Tawantinsuyin. Silent prayer was sent off he need not use it in close combat. 

"Perhaps the trebuchet can retire when the village is raised... future generations can climb on it and play little war games with their wood swords and slingshots."