Aeric Dalia/Vol 3 Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“Ready! Keep those lines steady!” A woman in a red horse hair plumed helmet screamed.
“Not gonna lie, Aeric. I'm scared, really scared.”
Aeric turned from the menacing horde of men charging at their formation to look at Selena. Her face was mostly covered from her heavy metal helmet. The cheekplates rolling to the corners of her mouth, and covering her chin. He could see her jaw tremble. Her gaze was fixed on the enemy. In her right hand was a long, but thick bladed sword, her left was the iconic large red shield. She held it to Aeric, covering his side. She swallowed hard and then tapped the tip of her blade on the sole of Aeric's boot, for luck.
When the young man looked back to the advancing war host he felt his jaw chatter likewise. His shield shook, obstructing his view from his lowered head. Despite their trepidation, their hold in the formation was perfect. Selena stood just to his back covering his left, he stood to the front hunched over, covering most of his body with his shield. He glanced to his right to see his friend in a similar position, no more than an arm's length away. Aerics fingers stretched and rolled along the handle of his shorter blade, then gripping it tightly in anticipation. “On my command, close ranks and prepare for the charge!” The officer bellowed again.
The deafening warcry slowly drowned out any ambient noise the soldiers were making. “Hold!”
Aeric's breath became heavy, as he took in long breaths in an attempt to calm himself. “Hold!
His teeth began to clenched. His gut churned painfully as his knees began to shake. “Hold!”
The enemy lines long broke apart, it was just an unorganized mob of men charging and screaming. They were so close Aeric could make out the glint of their teeth as the shouted. “Close formation! Loose missiles!”
In a clamored second the Imperial soldiers took a large step closer to eachother. The front ranks stepped back to the rank behind, the files side stepped, locking their shields together. Bodies were pressed heavily against each other as the collective group prepared to absorb the charge. Javelins flew from the back ranks into the enemy horde, disrupting them even further. Those that were hit fell under and vanished in a forest of legs. Some discarded their shields that were hit. Ultimately they didn't stop their charge. The mass of their bodies flew into the Arec formation like a torrent of water washing on a steep cliff. Aeric felt the weight of his shield increase tremendously as he flew back into his comrades.
Suddenly he was elsewhere, flung onto his back by an unseen force. Around him was a town engulfed in fire and chaos. He struggled to get to his feet, using his large shield as a crutch. Selena rushed to him with tears in her eyes, her face and armor covered in blood. Aeric's mind was still in a daze, he could not hear the world around him, and Selena's soft voice was a muffled hum. Corpses littered the street. Arecs, Karothians, civilians, all dead. Though the battle still raged. “You didn't need to kill them Tandren!” Selena cried at Aeric and her friend. “If I didn't they would have killed us.” Tandren shouted. “The couple had weapons on us Sel!”
Aeric looked to the ground to see two bodies, a man and a woman. They were dressed in very ornate and pristine clothing, marred only by the blood soaked in the fabric. Tandren kicked over the man to reveal a crude mace. Aeric looked down at his bloodied sword. His hearing dulled again as his head slowly floated, taking in the battle around him. He felt the war fire's heat on his cheeks, complimented by a cool night time breeze. He stopped looking when he saw something move behind a barrel in the alleyway. As his friends yelled at each other he began to walk to the alley in a ghostlike trance.
A child popped his head out, then quickly hid behind the barrel. Aeric knelt beside the barrel, resting his sword to the ground. His expression was distant, as if he didn't have a care of anything. He reached out his hand, and tapped the barrel with the knuckled of his finger. 'Go away' was returned. He knocked again and the child took flight down the alleyway. “We need to get back. Wheres the rest of the cohort?” Selena spoke again in her panicked state. “Aeric, get up we are leaving.” Tandren shook Aeric. “ You listening to me? Get up!” “We killed them.” Aeric muttered to himself. “Get up!” The blare of trumpets sounded. “ Thats the rally call, Get up!” “Get up!” Aeric's eyes flew open.
The air was calm. The only real disturbance was a familiar morning call played by trumpets. Once that ended the world was still. Aeric held his hand in front of his face. Turning it over many times to examine it. The tent's white fabric emitted a dull glow, allowing Aeric to see clearly without his eyes needing to adjust. He looked over to the cot across from him, only to find it empty. Faline's gear was missing as well. The only hint that she was there was the unkempt blanket left on the bed. Aeric rubbed his eyes and got up.
He dressed himself and then folded his blanket lengthwise, then width wise into a perfect square as he had done all his life. He stared at it in a waking curiosity. He never really questioned why he continued to fold it after using it. Especially if he was going to use it again that day. His friends sometimes mocked him, Faline gave him no less for it as well. Yet every time he would sleep on a cot he would fold the blanket the same way each morning. In a similar mechanical and trained fashion he began to don his armor.
The armored figure emerged from the tent. The band of Paladins were circled around a doused fire pit. Faline was relaxing in a wooden folding chair, Jenis and Hale conversed with each other. Dalia gave Aeric a warm smile as she found a spot to sit next to him. Aeric sat himself groaning quietly as his body was still waking. “Sleep well?” Faline spoke content to rest in her chair. “What time is it?” Aeric asked. “A bit before midday.” She folded her hands on her belly. “Why didn't you wake me?” “I tried, you were fast a sleep.” She looked at him. “Must have been a good dream.”
The paladin didn’t reply. Aeric was unnerved to know his nightmares were returning again. The few peaceful nights were a welcome change. Something changed in his mind. Being so close to his past wasn't wearing well on the man. As pleasant as it was to see his old friend, it opened old wounds that should have been healed, and fresher ones that refused to heal all together. The succubus's demeanor changed as she began to feel the melancholy mood of her adept grow.
The group began to banter candidly as they ate, Aeric remaining quiet as usual. A simple breakfast of eggs and sausage that was being prepared by many cooks around the camp. Dalia readily handed Aeric utensils to eat the food with as she lovingly ate her own food. She was acting noticeably more polite and courteous, even referring to Faline as 'Ma'am' once or twice. Aeric couldn't help but feel as if this was her way of apologizing after what she had done.
To a trained eye, one could notice the unease in the demon. She rubbed her hands often and constantly kept glancing around. She was surrounded by what was essentially the most succulent meal she could find in the camp. Virile men. Not just men that were in their peak physical condition, but men that were very active sexually. Just as she could feel the emotions of the men in her party, she could sense the lustful men around her. Always in a state of 'hunger' always ready to pounce. Behavior that the succubus quickly learned meant a good meal. She almost jumped to a stand when she felt Aeric's hand on her shoulder “Are you well?” “I could be better.” She took a suggestive bite out of her sausage. She raised her eye brow as if to hint.
Aeric quickly turned his attention away from Dalia, not wanting to deal with her playing so early in his morning. As he looked around the group he noticed an absence of Voren. 'The breakfast did seem quieter' Thought Aeric. He finished his plate and placed his on its rightful spot. “I was thinking of getting someone to commission a new axe for me, ya' know since you left mine in that fort.” Faline leaned toward Aeric with a very stern face. She smiled “Where is Voren?” “Where do you think he is this early on a 'day of rest'?” she rolled her eyes.
The center of the camp there was a cross roads of sorts that separated the quarters of the camp and the function specific areas of the camp. Many supply carts and blocks of troops would walk through. Between each road stood large tent structures that were more wood than canvas. Structures that were meant to have a bit more permanency. Many groups of people would group together and converse, or would run around with orders and satchels full of documents, or tools.
At the very center of this crossroads was a large wooden pole with many signs placed on it, directing the flow of traffic to their intended destination. A sizable group of people gathered around it, encircling a young man in brilliantly crafted white plate. He stood on a box with his thick leather bound religious text open. He was reading aloud o any that would hear him. He spoke not to the group before him, but to all passerby, shouting louder than he needed to to get his words across.
The Paladin's words were full of passion and momentary fury as he attempted to whip his audience with his righteous zeal. Yet, for all his dedication, he was still being vindictive. Preaching his religion in a den of sinners and heathens. Nothing was nobler than this in Voren's mind. Preaching the word of the gods when he knew they may hear, but not listen. Preaching when he knew that the sword was not the proper weapon for the time.
“And so, Hellen cast upon the lands of Mulchuria the three curses of vice!” He shouted turning his torso left to right. “And they did feast upon them greedily. So that they would become weak and Kalharen would smite them!” He bowed his head as he began to read the next verse. “Why would Hellen manipulate Kalharen to destroying Mulchria?” A soldier asked. “Because Kalharen doesn't like the weak of will.” Voren answered indignant that they would interrupt him. “But Mulchuria was strong militarily. I thought Kalharen was pleased by strong armies.” Another spoke. “Yes..” Voren stressed his word, annoyed. “ But when they fell to their decadence they became weak so Kalharen smote them. “Well technically they were subjugated by Issoes and Ulaen.”
Yet another spoke. A side conversation began on the subject. The group surrounding Voren slowly started to diverge into conversations about ancient societies and the effect the gods had on shaping the young world. Voren closed the book on his thumb, to keep his place. He tapped his foot impatiently. He took in a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “Contrivance Chapter 13 verse 11. Inspired by Kalharen!” Voren shouted out the name of the god. “Isseiah spoke unto Ulen who spoke unto his people. Through five seasons of burden they made four mighty weapons of war. Kalharen wrote his icon upon them and smiled.” “Oh I get it! The gods act through inaction!” A soldier shouted. “No they don't.” Voren hid his face in his hand. “Kalharen clearly influenced Isseiah.” “But he didn't directly act upon Mulchuria.” “THIS IS NOT A DISCUSSION!” Voren shouted, silencing the whole group. “But it is for us.” The soldier said quietly “Go easy on the foreigner.” A familiar voice shouted over the group.
In the back of the crowd he saw the familiar red hair of Ariane. She almost seemed like a new person with the grime washed form her. Her hair was straight, and bulled back into a bun. Two bangs hung down on both sides of her face. She wore that same smug smile that set Voren alight. Voren hadn't noticed her in the crowd until she spoke. After all she was wearing the same red tunic and tan panted uniform as the rest. Voren simply narrowed his gaze on the young woman uttering 'Oh... You.'
The conversations slowly abated and with them the cluttered mass slowly dissolved into the goings on of the encampment. Voren closed his book attaching it to the chain, letting it hang by his side. The paladin hopped down from his box, ready to leave as he had lost his spirit to continue, for the time. Ariane approached him. “Nice speech. I sat though all of it.” She greeted with a friendly tone. “It was a sermon, not a speech.” He grumbled. “Those are essentially the same aren't they?” She watched as Voren gave her a spiteful glare. She smiled “I wouldn't expect you to understand.” He turned kicking up dust from his feet. “You're angry at me, aren't you?” She asked. “Why wouldn't I be?” Voren grunted. “Over a friendly quarrel?” Her eyebrow raised, puzzled.
The paladin turned, stopping dead in his path. He tilted his head furrowing his brow at he young woman. 'Friendly.' He thought sarcastically, but didn't mutter aloud. Instead he stared at her indignantly. She continued to smile with her eyebrow locked firmly. Unwilling to break the silence the Paladin turned once again, throwing his hands into the air in silent protest. “See you at work!” She waved to a ever shrinking Voren as he stormed away.
Once again he found himself grumbling incoherently as he marched back to his camp. His head was held low on his shoulders, venting to the ground. His hands ached from clenching and his face slowly lit in a red hue. It was the second time she had left him so incensed, and from nothing. He stopped taking a few deep breaths.
He allowed his mind to think objectively. What was it that irritated him so much? Afterall, she was trying to be friendly, albeit in her own strange way. The Arec culture was an aggressive one, perhaps quarrels could be friendly, and fights social? The paladin mused greatly, eventually reaching his companions. He hastily found a seat, folding his arms over each other as he remained deep in thought. “More girl troubles?” Faline joked, placing a plate of cold food before him. “I don't understand why she's so...” “Combative?” The elf finished his sentence. “Perhaps she likes you?” Faline teased, feeling like a mother speaking to her growing son. “Then why would she be so hostile to me?” He spoke. “For example, she sat though an entire sermon to tease me.” “Wait. She sat through the whole thing?” The elf sat back and mused to herself with a smug grin. “She does like you.” “What?” His brow furled and his lips curled in confusion. “No, she doesn't. All she wants to do is fight.” He began cutting into his cold meal. “Arecs love to fight, but!” She expelled as she stood. “I have things to do. I want you to tutor the acolytes in healing and aid today. Can I trust you?” Voren swallowed hard on his bite. “All of them?” His voice filled with unease. Faline nodded.
At another end of the bustling camp Aeric and his friend stood over a small makeshift grave marker. It was a simple wooden post no more than a few inches by few inches thick. On it they had carved the name of their friend “Selena Pahlen Friend, beloved.” The man knelt infront of it gently touching is fingertips on the post as he muttered a few silent word. Aeric stood motionless behind him. “Aren't you going to grieve Bromiel?” “I already did.”
He picked himself up turning to face Aeric. With a heavy sigh he began to search for the words he wanted to speak. After several stifled attempts he couldn't think of a softer way to approach it. “How did she die?” He practically whispered. “I don't want to say.” “Damnit man! She was dear to me too.” He barked. Aeric drew quieter than usual, then took a deep breath.
Aeric recounted the entire tale to his friend, in horrid brutal detail, omitting nothing, not even the slightest transgression. It was what his friend deserved to hear. The truth, no matter how painful it was. It wasn’t just Aeric who had lost someone dear. Tandren took the harsh words stoically, he let out a long pained sigh, then with a solemn nod he embraced his friend. They didn't speak a word, no more needed to be spoken. They parted, giving some last kind words to the memorial. “Well...” Tandren spoke brazenly at long last. “Lets at least honor her memory properly by getting rowdy and into trouble again.” He let out a single huff of a laugh. “Sounds fun.” Aeric's voice picked up a tone of delight.
In the corner of the camp where the medical quarters were, Voren and his gathered mass assembled. The young Paladin took a look over the empty ground where so many wounded had laid before, and there was a noticeable difference in how many wounded were splayed out. A significant lack of them. Voren wondered to himself if they had died or he made such an impact. Both possibilities filled him with a sense of satisfaction, but he couldn't tell with one he felt better about.
There were a few medics walking up and down the rows of cots, more than he remembered from the day before. The only familiar ones were the old man, and the spirited red head he has become weary of. She greeted the party of Paladins with a smile and waved them over. Voren begrudgingly obeyed.
She was slightly bloodier and dirtier from when he had seen her not long before, her hair slightly tussled with beads of sweat beginning to form on the tips of her hair. The young woman had clearly been hard at work since the moment she arrived. She even had a bit of an exhausted vacant stare about her. “Good morning, holy people.” She started reaching into her kitbag for an undisclosed item. “Good morrow” Jenis replied, almost out of turn. “A patrol came back last night, some slight wounds, a few severe. If each of you can take a row to yourselves..” Voren began to speak, interrupting her. “Each of them is training, and not well versed in healing arts, quite yet. I brought them here to learn.”
Sorry Anons, but that's it due to a power outage and no back-up, that's all there is of this chapter. Hopefully it'll be finished soon.