Returning to Tihr.

Returning to Tihr was not my choice, we had already crushed the Khanate. We had drove them from their cities, scaled those castle walls and obliterated the opposing forces. Every city and stronghold fell before our armies. We were unstoppable. But our enemy found a foothold deep within our territory. Hrus Castle had been overrun. In our efforts to overreach, our weakest point became the foothold for our enemy to mount a counterstrike.

The Khanate empire was in ruins before our might. Jarl Gerlad was quite pleased with my efforts in the war. I had brought much honor to my family and my name, and I became an unexpected factor in the balance of power in the world of Calradia. My past was so easy to forget; a few tournament championships, some bandit routs and raids on Sea Raider stongholds. Somehow this had attracted the attention of King Ragnar. As a guest in his home when he passively suggested I swear my fealty to him as a vassal in his feasthall, it was a difficult offer not to accept.

It was not long before we were summoned to war against the Khanate. I didn't entirely understand it myself, but the last year had been a blur. I had slain bandits in villages, attended tournaments in many lands, collected taxes all in the name of ingratiating myself to my new 'family'. I was a mercenary, a sell-sword happy to collect treasure and renown from the Nords to clean up their dirty work. It wasn't until I met Endegrid, that I began to understand what family truly meant.

The Khanate had sezied a land that the Nords had seized from the Vaegirs, namely the once capital of Reyvadin. It had nothing to do with me, until it did. Jarl Gerlad raised the banner of war and summoned me to assist. I had little other prospects and a hearty band, so I answered his summons. My ragtag band of soldiers and conscripts met him in the frozen fields outside of Curaw. My renown had afforded me the charge to reclaim the town of Reyvadin. I accepted and spent some time to train my troops for the assault and reclamation of the city in the name of King Ragnar.

The assault was nothing short of brutal. Terribly outnumbered and attacking a fortified force, my men and I railed against those terrible walls. The men we lost will carry with me for the rest of my days. Night and day, we sieged against that city to the point that I wished an arrow would claim my life. I prayed for absolution with those soldiers who were lost under my command. When our forces were nigh depleted, the miracle of Jarl Gerlad arrived to reinforce us with his warband. The efforts of the soldiers under my command were not in vain. In that day we were victorious.

King Ragnar was satisfied with our success, and in a strange twist of fate, elected to name me Lord of Reyvadin. Perhaps it was a recognition of our sacrifice, or an approval of our eventual success. Perhaps even the notion of including another lord in the court of intrigue, as a penance for my sins. But I have never been one to turn down a good thing.

A feast was soon declared, and a tournament to follow. The lords and ladies of the Nordic kingdom were all in attendance. That is when my eye caught Lady Endegrid. I fought hard in those tournaments and dedicated my successes to her each time. The flattery went far, but it was a poem from a wandering bard in the tavern that eventually sealed my intentions of devotion to her. In short time, a marriage proposal was possible to which I leaped at with complete abandon.

Our union and blissful life was cut short; the Khanate was still at war with the country I had pledged my life to. The call of war was ever present and more pressing now. After a scant few days with my new bride, the banners of war raised once more to call me to distant lands. We raised the levies, recruited anyone brave and willing enough to die in a foreign land.

We cut a swath of victory and left behind us a trail of peasant and mercenary blood. We gave no quarter, conscripting anyone who could ride a horse or wield a cudgel. Denars passed hands as quickly as they were found from the villages we razed or the dead we looted. The toll of damned souls weighed ever heavier upon my shoulders, but I persisted in the hopes of once again seeing my Endegrid back in Reyvadin.

When the last of the cities of the Khanate fell to our warband, word had reached us of the fleeing faction's retaliation on the castle of Hrus. A lightly defended fortress that had been conquered in the flurry of war. I wanted nothing more then to return to my city of Reyvadin and see my Endegrid once more. To spend some time with her and to raise a family in peace in this warlike land of Calradia.

In my return to the Nord lands, I took a short visit to Reyvadin. I was granted a moment of peace to speak to my beloved as she revealed to me that she was with child. I would be a father. I had progeny now, even perhaps an heir to the bloody legacy that made them possible. The thoughts of the joy this life would bring to me, even in a small way made this journey worthwhile. This bright moment in my life was quickly eclipsed by the call of the warband. After all we had done to the Khanate, it was clear that if we were to ever know peace, castle Hrus would need to be reclaimed.

It was en route that King Ragnar, pleased with our successes proclaimed a tournament in the city of Tihr to celebrate our victory and raise morale for our warriors. As a tournament champion, I could not decline. Donning the padded leather armors and lighter wooden sword, something did not feel right. It might have been the simulation of combat, the lack of blood, or just the encroaching specter of age that assailed me that day. A contest that I was intimately familiar with had proved the better of me in the third round. What was once a source of income, pride, and proof of my prowess had dried up that day. The remaining contests were cut short as castle Hrus still awaited us.

It was on our approach to Hrus that the arrow finally struck me. An impossible, preternatural shot through the slit of my great helm had pierced my eye and threw me from my mount. In my stupor and confusion I was surrounded by the sounds of battle. A din that I was once so comfortable with had become bitter and discordant. I had learned enough about battle wounds to know that this was one I would not recover from. As the darkness of death crept in, my thoughts were of Endegrid and the child I would never meet.

Submitted October 22, 2019 at 11:02AM by n00bM4st3r5ixtyn1n3 https://ift.tt/2p5W4UT