1629, Fire Season, Death Week, Fireday afternoon
Context
Varanis is in Whitewall and it’s time to spread the word of Eril. Follows on in the Legend of Eril Linebreaker (part 2). After Session 5.S.05.
Events
1629, Fire Season, some week, Fireday afternoon
At the feast where Varanis talked to Adnew, he was interested in the deeds of Lord Eril, but there was not time for a full discussion, as there were many people to meet and greet.
Now, singers and speakers have gone out to take the news of the Crown Test to the edges of Heortland. Fireday is coming to an end, and soon those who worship on Wildday will be gathering.
Varanis decides to seek out Adnew. She is hoping that she might be able to join the worship as a lay member and perhaps have the use of a sanctified space in which to worship the Hero too.
The Sword Brother is just finishing a meal. His habit seems to be to eat from a bowl made of bread, a thing more common in Sartar than Esrolia, and far more common among the poor than the rich.
Haralast’s house is a big one, as it sometimes serves for the starts and ends of ceremonies, and the head of the Humakti Temple always has a position of honour. In this case, he is simply getting a meal down at the head of one of the tables, without much ceremony.
Varanis slides onto the bench in a nearby vacant space. “May I have a some of your time?” she asks politely in Heortling. It’s almost correct, though the idiom is off.
“Please keep me company,” he replies, without apparent wariness. “Eat if you want.”
Varanis helps herself to a plate and puts a modest amount of food on it. There’s a hard-boiled egg, which she peels deftly and eats first. Then some roasted vegetables, a small serving of some kind of stewed beans, and a slice of beef. She is methodical in her approach to the food, eating in silence for a several minutes. Finally, when she has tasted some of everything on her plate, she asks, “You will lead worship at Yelm-set? And if so, may I join?”
“I will, and you may. You are a member of the Boldhome Laity, are you not?”
She nods. “Didn’t want to impose. But, I want to worship Humakt and his Hero, Lord Eril. S’important.” Her Heortling has an unusual accent, part Esrolian foreigner and part Colymar peasant. Her manners, on the other hand, are distinctly those of the nobility.
“I had been meaning to ask you about the Hero. It is seldom that there is proof of one while he lives.” Adnew has the infantry habit of putting away food fast, and the politician’s habit of leaving a silence to be filled.
“He was here, in Whitewall, when Broyan was,” Varanis says. “I only know some of this story though. My own ex…” She struggles to find the word and switches to another, “… time with him has been more recent. He sent me to the Underworld for a Heroquest once. That was…” She shudders. “He was swift. Anyway, he is smart. Calculating. He’ll do anything for Humakt and Sartar.” She pokes at her plate absently, not really noticing the food still on it. “Up at Alda Chur, he was… palpable.” She switches to Trade Talk after failing to find the right word. “Do you know what I mean? There were Heroes on the field and you could feel them.”
“I knew him a little when he was here. I too answered Broyan’s call.” Adnew has almost finished what is inside the bowl, and starts to tear it up, making almost no mess. He is not wasting the edible. “I was here when King Broyan saw off the Crimson Bat. Linebreaker stayed in the city, then. His was a reputation for competence and more, but his Regiment was not the native one. It led to some tension.”
Varanis nods. “That happens in sieges. Sometimes we forget about the enemy at the gates because we’re tripping over each other.” She, too, has fought through sieges.
Adnew nods, slowly. “I was assigned to the Temple here. Linebreaker was generally a raider. While it was possible to make sorties, he would usually be part of them. He’s a political man, as I understand it.” Adnew seems slightly puzzled as he tries to match those things.
“Possibly the most deadly swordsman I’ve ever seen,” Varanis says. “He brings that sharpness to politics.”
“He earned his name from breaking a phalanx, I heard.” Adnew chews thoughtfully for a moment, and takes a sip of what looks like watered beer. “You were thinking of … I apologise. You said you were going to worship him. Do you need anything?”
“A black chicken, if there’s one I can buy. Some red wine and some juniper sticks. I can worship alone, but if you or any others wish to join me, I will lead as best I can.”
“I will have to lead the main ceremony, but there will be a chance, halfway between dusk and midnight. I will ensure that.” Adnew’s bright eyes do not quite match his old-looking face. He must be over fifty, never a fit for being a Rune Lord, but quick enough to survive in a political climate, and to be given – or to have taken – the curious honour of running this small Temple.
Varanis nods. “Thank you. Is there anything you require from me to join your service?”
“A donation to the Temple is always welcome, but in this case I think it needs to be waived, at least in the mundane world. You are bringing knowledge. Come, talk about the Hero, and his links to this place, and we can do the rest.” Adnew looks to Varanis with a tiny quirk of amusement, well disguised. “You might have to face questions. It will be an intimate crowd.”
Varanis smiles at him. “I’m Orlanthi. I know how to talk.”
“I was wondering if you knew the content,” Adnew murmurs. “Your High Sword has a storied history here.”
She considers. “I am trying to learn all I can of him,” she says after a small pause. “Good and bad. So yes, anything you care to share, I would appreciate hearing.”
“Mm. Then you’ll have to come over to the Temple while I prepare. Your messengers are making a good noise in the city, and they’ll be on the road by now. I need to go start matters, however.” He stands up, leaving the last of his crust on the table.
Varanis rises, abandoning her plate. She had been sparing in her food choices and while there is some leftover, at least it is not much.
Adnew walks towards his Temple in silence. There are few people there, and he ignores them, gesturing Varanis through past the room with a covered altar, to the room at the back. The whole building is one big room, subdivided, with the shape of the Death Rune set into the floor in white stones. The back room is a combination storage area and office. Adnew closes the door and begins taking down boxes and bits of costume. “I was locked in the city for about two years with him. Not just him, but I remember a little. He had been a mercenary in the area for some time, and sometimes hired out to Prax, I think, and Esrolia. We thought he was from the Kultain, if we thought about him at all – he looks that way.”
“Sambari,” she says. “He’s … was a Cinderfox, but I think his mother was of the Kultain.”
“Quite. He was never obvious, except when he was. Back when this was still the Holy Country, he was very useful, and rather expensive, I think. He would waive that for the raids against the Lunars in Sartar. Then the God-King vanished, and Broyan was acclaimed a little later. I think Lord Eril bound his Wyter in Malkonwal, to the South of here. Before that, his band would change, but afterwards it was a Regiment. I was in Wilmskirk at the time. My family is from New Pavis.” He is finding small items that will be significant in the night’s teaching or dancing. It looks like the sacrifices will be low-key.1Fireday is the Seasonal Holy Day, so he’s probably been up all night, and he’d be doing more sacred things now only he needs to eat and get ready.
“Did you ever fight with him?”
“Alongside? No, but I was on the same field sometimes. At first the Lunars were undermanned here. One of his demands, when he came, was to be treated with equal respect to the Temple that was here. I understand the King pointed out that would mean a lot less money, but money was not why we were doing it. There were two Regiments; Haadrul’s, and Eril’s. I joined Haadrul, in the building that was here before this one. Sometimes we would issue forth together, to harry. The land, you see, did not always look as it does. With Broyan living it resembled its mystical counterpart more, and the more they came at us, the more it strengthened the magical fortress. That meant spilling plenty of blood, however. We were all eager for that.”
Varanis nods, taking it in. Silently, she offers to help with his work. Labour for stories.
“I will be taking responsibility for these things,” he says with a touch of severity. “But if you want to, take a seat.” He turns away to hide a yawn that nearly escapes him. “There was a lot of politics internal to the city. Different plans for getting the Ernaldans and the children out, everyone wanting to show at their best. The Temple and the Regiment got along politely, but they were rivals. If Haadrul wanted to do a thing, Eril would always have a suggestion. And if the travelling Regiment – that was what we called it – needed anything, they often had to go through Broyan. In general, they kept the lower walls and we the upper. Either could be in danger depending on how hard the Lunars were pushing. Sometimes the city almost seemed to be built on a knife of rock, and other times, it was back down in the mud, and you could see what they cooked on their campfires. On dark moon days, we usually sallied out, at first.”
The Vingan accepts the invitation to sit, making a valiant effort to be still. It lasts several minutes as she listens to him speak. Silently, she soothes Dezar, who paces in her mind. //Shhh. I need to learn this.//
He talks about the siege, and about egos. Eril once challenged one of the champions of the Lunar Army, and fought him along a wall. He usually asked to be put in the thickest fighting, but he would accept being in command instead. He did not even get along well with everyone in his Regiment – most Sartarites joined him, once the gates were properly closed. Even a duck from the Upland Marsh. Adnew looks down at a wooden sword he is checking for imperfections. “I think he valued people more as assets than as people, but he hated being seen to lose, and he looked after everyone under his command. You were either inside, or outside. If anyone came for someone who was his, he was like a wolf in their defence. Even that mallard, and they didn’t like each other at all.”
“They still don’t,” she says.
“Well, ducks are not everyone’s favourite people. It’s the preening, for me.”
“His Wyter priest is a Durulz. Sort of.”
Adnew looks puzzled. “I suppose he never held back talent?”
“She’s…” Varanis struggles to find the right word in Heortling, finally settling on, “adopted? A Colymar and D’Val’s Dagger.”
“Ah, honorary duck. Yes, she was here. She performed the Heroquest that set the ghosts here to rest, a few years back. That was the last time he visited, of course.”
“I’m still learning Heortling,” Varanis admits.2And I just checked at it’s 50%, so she’s doing pretty damned well.
“It is hard to tell.” From Eril, that would be an insult. From Adnew, it does not sound like one. “If there is anything you cannot answer, about the siege, direct those questions to me. You have travelled with the Dagger of Humakt.”
“Not that she’d thank me for it, but I’d give my life for hers. I believe she’d do the same for me and I’d be just as angry,” Varanis admits softly. “We have been to Hell and back. I was with her when she found his Wyter and bound it to the blade. He is a Hero, but she keeps him… worthy.” Her eyes gleam and her expression is intense.
“You are right. Orlanthi know how to talk.” Adnew bows his head. “For the most part, the initiates here are young warriors, and the young like to think that they too will be Heroes.”
She sighs, some of the tension leeching out of her. “We will be. Or we’ll be dead. This is a time of Heroes – I’ve seen it on the battlefield and in my dreams. The gods call on us and we must answer. But our victory against the Lunars won’t be cheaply bought.” She’s less than half his age – old enough to have seen plenty, but young enough to fervently believe.
He nods, carefully. “I thought I was lucky to see one King, but Broyan may not be the last. Do you need anything more before dark? I should meditate.” And maybe he will. Maybe he will get an hour’s sleep on this most holy of days.
She shakes her head. “Thank you for your time and knowledge. I’ll go talk to Vinga then ready myself for the evening.”
Adnew walks her out. “Best to have someone in the room with you if you pass the altar,” he points out.
She thanks him, nodding her respect to the altar.
- 1Fireday is the Seasonal Holy Day, so he’s probably been up all night, and he’d be doing more sacred things now only he needs to eat and get ready.
- 2And I just checked at it’s 50%, so she’s doing pretty damned well.
