((Disclaimer for typical Alesian violence and language, reader
discretion advised))
The Alesians were different that any other conquerors the
Southlands had known. After declaring victory over the Aslarians
at *Dulsi, they stayed in *Tollor long enough to burn their dead
and install Treshire Vilgren on the throne, then departed in the
same way they had come so many months before, moving west across
the *Rainbow River and into *Elluria, the latest country to come
under the protective aegis of the *Alesian Imperium. The absence
of fanfare in return of the *Falvarniosok's successful campaign
consternated the Ellurian watchers; it was their experience that
a triumphant army--particularly a foreign one--would proceed to
disband, celebrate and debauch itself in a victory euphoria, but
the Alesians armies seemed to have no such inclination. As quiet
and businesslike as ever, they went on about their daily routine
of drilling, marching, and making camp as though the war had not
yet ended.
"What would you have us do, eh?" Hithos Larold Vertonthen
said contemptuously, spat on the ground in response to the query
of one of his Ellurian auxiliaries. "Take to the whiskey barrel?
Raise the town and impregnate the women? Pisshead, this country
can't even feed the mouths its already got. Until there's roads
and granaries and grain to fill 'em, you're only lover is gonna
be your left hand and a dirty imagination. So shut it and don't
think about leave until there's a proper road between Garusk and
Vor Prine."
But soon after *Prince Etaudus Paralor's arrival in a much
unused gubernatorial at *Garusk, the routine of the Falvarniosok
began to change. The *Varniok devoted more time to building than
to marching; they seemed to be equally skilled at both. Over the
next six months Elluria had its infrastructure overhauled. Older
roads were repaired and new roads were constructed where needed,
granaries were built in towns that needed them and granaries in
disrepair were restored, fortifications materialized on the bank
of the Rainbow River, and constabulary outposts were constructed
at regular intervals between towns and along borders; commerce
and security, Etaudus well understood, were the organs by which
the Alesian Imperium lived and breathed. And the construction of
those organs proved to give the Ellurian economy a badly needed
boost. The Falvarniosok could not build everything on their own,
and it was essential that the Ellurians feel ownership for their
own reconstruction. So it was that whatever work not being done
by the Falvarniosok was contracted out to Ellurians and paid for
by the spoils of the war against the Aslarians and adventurous
investors in far away Alesia. Money once again began to trickle
into treasury vaults; Elluria on its way to becoming solvent.
And as Elluria took on the fiscal and bureaucratic aspects
of a proper Alesian province it was only a matter of time before
it developed the martial aspects as well; *Ve-Tavarnin Seveig
Acanthor and the 1st Lliros of the 7th Falvarniok were charged
with the construction of a proper School of Arms with which to
raise and train an Ellurian Falvarniok. There was no shortage of
recruits--both Ellurian or foreign--who came to the lackluster
camp outside of Norlin to enlist. So it was that Acanthor and
his Lliros would beat, scream at, exercise and drill the new
volunteers until they broke and then build them anew, but build
them as Alesians. Vedon Galothen, Commandant of the Prine School
of Arms in Alesia, would later come out to inspect the fledgling
Varniok and pronounce them "not horrible," which was to them who
knew Alesian ways, a glowing compliment.
"Does good by us, hayseed. Works hard like my cock's hard
when I smell roasting orc. Not many a man can rend paper'n'flesh
with equal talent," Hithos Rhunvan Torraent would say of Etaudus
to Larold, and with great solemnity. "He can, though."
But there was an unmistakable and sinister undercurrent to
be felt in Elluria's reconstruction, for it was impossible for
one not to notice the string of disappearances which seemed to
coincide with the building of the constabulary outposts; entire
families would vanish without a trace, their lands confiscated,
divided, and sold off. By and large the people who disappeared
were people who had expressed--at one time or another--some mean
opposition to Alesian rule of Elluria; most were nobles who held
large estates, but still others were as lowly as tinkers. There
was no rhyme or reason to these abductions; a neighbor might see
a group of Varniok--invariably from the 9th as it was the only
constabulary Falvarniok--man and wife being dragged roughly from
their home at dead time of night never to be seen or heard from
again. Fear ruled hand-in-hand with commerce, and those who were
not seduced by the prosperity that came with Alesian rule merely
ceased to exist.
"It's a grim business but necessary," Hithos Jagvhar Greig
confided to Larold, sopping up the last of his stew with a hunk
of bread. "We learned the lesson in Granar; only way to halt the
opposition is to kill it, and kill it, and kill it. If you keep
the treasonous running from death, they won't have time to make
themselves a nuisance. And speaking of nuisances, Larold, we've
managed to run several of them to earth, but will need your help
in getting at them. They're somewhat out of my reach, you see."
* * * * * * * *
They numbered fifteen and they were all fanatics, men who
had been selected for the extreme viciousness they had exhibited
on the battlefield, for the serene and guiltless way they slept
in the wake of committing the worst atrocities of war. Most were
young, but mature far beyond their age and what youth they still
owned was the sort that leant itself to cruel and unquestioning
zeal. Others were older, the scarred leatherneck veterans of the
worst campaigns in recent history. All of them were extensively
trained beyond the basics taught at the School of Arms, had been
taught to use unconventional weapons and unconventional tactics
to achieve the specialized objectives of reconnaissance, rescue
and retaliation.
Though it was well before sunrise they weren't tired; they
were used to being roused from their sleeping mats at odd hours
and hat been taught to function well with little sleep. Standing
in small groups and talking quietly of unimportant things, they
drank strong black tea from tarnished bronze cups and patiently
waited for the briefing to begin. None of the number wondered as
to the reason for their assembly; all would be revealed in time
and they were patient men all.
"TE-VOR-ETH!" shouted the number's senior minder, a rough
and haggard Tavarnin of the 2nd Lliros. All conversation ceased
and the assembled men stood at rigid attention.
"Stand easy," said Hithos Larold Vertonthen, the tent flap
falling closed behind. "Ve-Tavarnin Acanthor is, as you already
know, busting better skulls than yours at the new School of Arms
in Norlin. His absence in addition to the losses we suffered at
Dulsi have reduced your number to fifteen--one man short of two
*octet teams." The words came quickly, his tone businesslike and
succinct. "That being the case and my being the only other man
in this Falvarniok with your training, I am taking Ve-Tavarnin
Acanthor's place in leading this sortie. Sit."
They took their seats, quickly.
"Hithos Greig and his Blood Peregrines of the 9th have run
to earth a network of Aslarian spies," Larold continued, hauled
his considerable bulk atop a wooden crate at the head of his
men. "It is usually the 9th's business to execute spies and
criminals; it is what the constabulary Falvarniok does. However,
Hithos Greig feels he is unequipped to handle these particular
executions as they require a degree of skill--and finesse--that
he is right to believe men do not own. Our brothers in the 9th
are undoubtedly effective, but their methods are often as subtle
as *Primovordok faggot-boy's fawning over his eunuch tutor."
Grins from the fifteen, a quiet thrum of laughter.
"That being the case, it is our job to do what the Varniok
of the 9th can't. That means infiltrating a friendly neighboring
country, executing both the spies and their immediate families,
and then exfiltrating. And all without arousing the suspicion of
a competent local guard force. Granted, this will not be simple
but it is far from impossible, and we have many factors working
in our favor. We'll have good natural cover, a decidedly unaware
local guard, and a presumably unaware nest of spies. We've also
got several days' worth of a boat ride with which to familiarize
ourselves with the details." He gave them all a grim smile. "So
pack your bags, cunts, we're going on leave. I've already given
a circular to your respective *Tavarniok; you're all cleared. Go
back to your tents, pack your holiday gear, and meet me down at
the docks by the bottom of the hour. Larold's Ladies are taking
a Mystonian vacation. Dismissed."
* * * * * * * *
There was nothing unusual about the sixteen Alesians that
disembarked the Garusk-Mysthaven pinnace. Certainly, they looked
no different than the other vacationing Alesian soldiers who had
come before them. None of them were particularly tall, but they
seemed to be big men all the same. They all wore their uniforms,
for the Alesians seemed to have no common clothing. Same durable
canvas breeches, same workmanlike and well-used steel armor, the
same malodorous rust-colored cloaks and functional weapons; they
remained soldiers even when off the battlefield. And the people
of Mysthaven didn't take offense to their presence, treated them
as visitors instead of an occupying army, for money always made
fast friends and the Alesians spent a lot of it. They would rent
rooms in the local inns, drink in the taverns, and buy trinkets
for their far away families. More often than not they got thrown
in jail for public intoxication or brawling; they would be fined
and again the Mystonians would profit.
So it was that the disembarking Varniok were greeted with
genial smiles and good humor by the natives; fat cash cows come
to be sacrificed on the altar of the local economy. And like the
others who had come before them they seemed solitary in nature,
thought nothing of breaking going their separate ways to explore
Mysthaven individually. They did what they normally did while on
leave but with less excess; drinking a little and pretending to
be drunk, nicely talking up young women before grabbing a breast
to ruin their chances, and brawling with less vigor so the fight
resolved itself before the guards showed. Since it was known by
all that vacationing Alesians were invariably allotted a week's
leave time, none of the locals were surprised when the visitors
began a gradual withdrawal from the city. Over a period of three
days they made their retreat, renting horses one at a time and
riding out of the city for Alcornal and points beyond. They said
they wanted to see the rest of the country.
* * * * * * * *
It was a low and sprawling flagstone cottage five miles to
the south of Brookshire, made visible only by the firelight that
spilled from its frosted windows and the solitary lantern on the
porch; enough light to silhouette the house against the dark sky
but not enough to illuminate the fast advance of eight men from
a nearby stand of trees. They moved in leapfrogging pairs, each
pair overtaking the next at regular intervals until they entered
the front yard where they proceeded to distribute their numbers
along the walls, beside the front door, and beneath the windows;
it was done quickly, quietly and in an orderly fashion. Adopting
classic postures of stealth, they waited a long moment while one
of their number lifted his head high enough over the windowsill
to look inside the house; his face smeared with wagon grease and
a black scarf drawn across his mouth and nose.
Inhabitants observed, the man before the window lifted up
a gloved hand to show his fellows four fingers. There were four
people in the house. The first man's gesture was mimicked by the
rest of the number, affirmed by single nods; all were fluent in
nonverbal communication. Another moment passed while the man at
the window produced a grapefruit-sized brown ball from the folds
of his cloak, a hollow sphere made of hardened clay and filled
with blasting gnomish blasting powder to be ignited by a twisted
and short fuse. The sphere's appearance signaled four of the men
to mass before the door; the other three had fallen back to the
shadows of the yard.
The man crouched below the window struck a match on the
side of the house, covered the small flame with the curve of his
body, extinguished it with a flick of his wrist, and pulled down
the scarf covering his mouth. This done he set the still-glowing
matchstick between his lips. Sword in right hand and sphere in
left, he waited for the hand signal from the leader of the group
at the door. Getting it, he hefted the sphere close to his face,
touched its fuse the glowing matchstick and--while it ignited--
swung his sword backwards over his head to break the window; the
broken glass had not yet hit the floor when the ball was tossed
through the window and into the house.
Things began to happen very quickly.
A woman screamed, but the sound was quickly overpowered by
the explosion of the detonating sphere. A brief silence followed
but was quickly broken by the sound of the breaking of the door;
the first four men spilled into the room. The inhabitants of the
cottage were in stunned disarray. A husband was on the floor and
his wife knelt at his side helping him sit; two children hugged
one another before the fire, their mouths opened wide in screams
of silent horror. They all bled from their ears, unable to hear
the martial shouts of the black-clad men who then encircled the
smoky room.
The two children--boy and girl--were hastily wrenched from
their embrace by the intruders, had their necks broken for fast
and merciful deaths; they were not to suffer witnessing the more
gruesome acts to follow. The wife and mother met her end trying
to save her children. She was stumbling lamely to fetch an iron
from the fire when the point of a dagger was driven up through
her chin and into her brain; another painless death. The husband
and father was not as fortunate. Before the intruders hung him
from the rafters with wire they cut out his tongue. Whether he
died by drowning in his own blood or asphyxiation from the wire,
the assembled men were not particularly sure, nor did they care.
It was only when the hanged man's legs had ceased to jerk
that the eight men took their leave.
A day or so later they met up with the other half of their
contingent, the other half who had done a near identical killing
not far from Alcornal; they had to kill five. All enjoyed a joke
about Aslarians breeding like orcs and proceeded to go on their
separate ways. Alesians came and Alesians went, no one took any
notice of the sixteen who stumbled onto the outbound boat. Like
the others they sported stubble and eyes made bleary from drink.
And if asked they would say that, yes, they had seen the country
and liked it just fine.
Glossary:
*Alesian Imperium: An overseas empire existing on a continent to
the south of the Southlands; the empire who aided the Ellurians
in evicting thr Aslarians from their land.
*Elluria: The country from which the Aslarians were evicted and
the Alesian Imperium now controls.
*Dulsi: Final battle of the Southlands War resulting in Aslarian
withdrawal from Elluria.
*Tollor: That part of western Elluria given to Treshire Vilgren
in the wake of the Soutlands War.
*Varniok: Alesian legionaries, soldiers of the ranks.
*Tavarnin: Commander of a Tavros, or 100 legionaries; a company
commander.
*Falvarniok: Unit of 6,000 Alesian soldiers; "Falvarniosok" is
plural the plural of the same word.
*Hithos: Commander of a Falvarniok.
*Garusk: Alesian seat of power in Elluria.
*Prince Etaudus Paralor: Elluria's Alesian governor.
JD
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