Consolidation

[Coaster 2086]

Their breathing was heavy, the sound of a hundred feet above them - bustling like ants. The mine shaft seemed to barely hold the small party, and only seemed to get smaller as they limped through. A man fell, he was left behind, light could be seen up ahead. So close. He could hear the enemy now, they had entered the shaft behind them, and would soon catch up.

They hustled faster without a word, six men of the Teutonic Order, eight of House Flay - once sworn enemies , now running for their lives together. All at once, they burst through at the end...to the sight of the enemy, twenty strong, weapons drawn. A yell, the unsheathing of a blade next to him, a haggard moan. Some just knelt into the sand, exhausted - others gave a cry and attacked. He himself scrambled onto the mountain face, desperate to get away. As he rushed to climb up the hill, he felt a hand grab onto his leg, pulling him in. He looked back over his shoulder, and saw his dead men clawing for him, cursing him, moaning through bloodless lips and with croaked voices. Spears through their guts, arrows in their necks. He opened his mouth and let out a blood curdling scream.

August Flay jolted as the dream ended, awakening in the garrison quarters of his new dwellings - a dismal place with ghouls and ghasts aplenty. Only a few others shared the room, the fort was dead silent, except for the incessant scraping of a blade against a whetstone; a man sitting in the corner tending to his sword.

It had been almost one month since the disaster, when the allied forces of the Orcs, Dwarves and White Rose had crushed him and the Teutonic Order. His most decisive defeat, on the scale of his failed rebellion against the Emperor Godfrey decades ago. He stood, having fallen asleep against the wall and paced the empty halls. He nodded to the one or two sentries he saw, bored and snoring against their spears.

No one had much bothered him since then, all were convinced he was broken forever. Destroyed utterly, with no chance of recovery. His sworn man Yert approached from opposite the hall he was walking in, a bundle of papers in his hand. August muttered a low greeting, then accepted the documents. Schematics for a catapult, a long list of names, a tally of recent spending, three scrolls with the sigils of various lords adorned on the front, a sealed letter.

"Have these redrawn. Have this list updated, half the current garrison will join the others. Ensure the payment I laid out arrives on time. Send the Lords my regards and ensure them they will not regret their decision."

Yert grunted, uttering a barely audible goodbye, and strode off, leaving August standing alone - the sealed letter in his hand. He looked at it, relatively unimportant despite the seal of the Imperial family emblazoning the front. He opened it, and smiled faintly as he read the contents. An approval of his request. It had been hard to make the choice, but necessary, it was the only way his future plans could come into fruition. The legal changing of his name, as suggested by the Emperor. August Flay was no more. House Flay was no more. The bandannas that so marked his men for death would be no more. He removed a piece of charcoal and signed the letter brusquely.

Augustus Blackmont, Lord of House Blackmont

[SkyyoBee 249]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.