One Moo'r Plow

BBook 2: Chapter 56: Culmination II. [End Book 2]

BBook 2: Chapter 56: Culmination II. [End Book 2]

Fear ruled the hearts of men. Deep inside, that was what preceded all else. When presented with the unknown, this was the first response. The sickness that showed the true face of a man underneath its weight. It brought out what little else could. Valencia knew this, and she used it well.

They knew of her. Her reputation and all that she had done and could do. They knew not that she had changed ever so slightly. Only the monster that she had been. And eventually, they would break before her as she had broken many beyond number.

Ser Tollish broke, in the end. He chose to answer over what she would do to him. Her presence alone invalidated the need for torture when they knew she could rip the answers from their souls. So many of the assassin’s counterparts had she inflicted this on that he gave up the knowledge willingly. After the dreadknight had informed him exactly what would happen, of course.

There was no such as a bluff if it came from her lips.

She was a monstress in human flesh, and all knew it. Feared her. Needed her. Wanted her on their side rather than with the enemy. Even if the sight of her evoked terror, she was their monster. The one that made their rivals fear the dark.

A lifetime and a legacy of fear was what Valencia had established. Entrenched in the thoughts of all that knew her and of her.

And I could tell that it did not please her. Not anymore. She had achieved what she desired, and now she looked at what was left in her path. Hidden from her features, of course. Yet I could smell the disappointment in her as she glanced around the throne room.

Ser Tollish was in the employ of Duke Ironmoor. Hand of Queen Elith. Spymaster of the realm. Brother of Londor Ironmoor. Staffed with the house Ramsey-Pratt as a convenient disguise. An agent of the throne. Provocateur, meant to cause, well, exactly this. Whether the baron lived or died, his mission had been accomplished.

Londer Ironmoor had been attacked, slain in broad daylight by a servant of house Ramsey-Pratt. They were now thrust to the forefront, the blame piled upon them whether they liked it or not. Now came the consequences.

The baron mobilized for war. Long had he remained here at his fortress in peace, content to rule his lands in relative quiet. Those assassins sent to kill him were disposed of quietly and their presence hidden. All so he could deny their existence and continue about with his life. Through those actions he had sent a message that while he knew who attacked him and his, they were beneath his notice.

Now, the dragon had finally woken. And woe betide the fools that toiled beneath its prey-path. There would come a time of blood and fire across the realm as the armies of Londer Ironmoor marched to smash down those that raised arms against him.

The first relief was that little fighting would take place in this land. I stood and listened to the plans that were laid, felt relief growing within me as maps of battlefields to come were ones I did not recognize. Never one for defense, the force under the Londor’s command would march out and lay into the enemy rather than await siege.

Clerics of war-gods were being called, mages hired to lend their arcane might in the bloodshed to come.

Generals I had never seen before stood around the table, each the head of another army. All loyal to the house of Ironmoor. Even before the throne, the crown itself, their fealty was pledged to this man. Gathered in this room was a massive display of power, and I was glad to not be part of it. For all intents and purposes, I would not be involved in this war.

My purpose as a deterrent had run its course, and the baron understood that I would not go to war for him. This did not bother him, it seemed.

Valencia was a different tale.

The baron continuously glanced at her as his generals spoke of the short autumn and harsh winter to come. The words of how they would strike and use the snowfall as a buffer against more aggression seemed half-ignored, the dreadknight on his mind.

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Those eyes followed Valencia as she walked away and approached me.

“Come.” Was all she said. And I followed.

I found myself atop the walls alongside her, gazing out over the golden fields of a ripe harvest. I held my tongue and waited for her to speak, aware that this was an important moment.

“War comes.” The dreadknight spoke. “I should be excited for it. Ecstatic at the chance to crush my enemies, grind the unworthy underfoot. Kill them all and run down those that flee. Put terror in their hearts when they see me across the battlefield from them.”

“Instead, there is nothing. Worse than nothing, I am tired, Garek. I dreamt of my death, last night. It does not leave my mind. I look out over all this, and I find myself unexcited for any of it.”

“I have lost the joy to slaughter. Once I would have been happy to march forth in the name of my liege. Now, I long for something for myself.”

“Even now, reborn, I am called to do his grim work. To drive out his enemies, make them once more fear his name.”

“I want something for myself. I love the fight for the fight itself, but I have grown tired of raising my fist in another’s name.”

“It occurs to me, in this moment, that you have been the only person to ever show me kindness. Londor spared me when they found me upon the altar, but he saw the weapon I could become. And for many years, I was just that. But now the blade has grown weary, and it wants to rest.”

“You have already given me so much. Patience. Kindness even when I threw it in your face. Understanding even when I mocked you. A life when I lost mine in my own reckless pursuit.”

The human stood tall, her eyes drinking in the fields of beauty that rolled before us.

“I think that I wish to rest. To do something other than march from one battle to the next. I have thought on this these past few days, and I wish to stay with you for a small while. You have already given so much, and now I ask for a little more.”

My mind did not even consider any of the logical reasons her presence would be beneficial for. I did not think on matters of deterrence, of reputation. I only knew that these words came from the heart. That she spoke with a sincerity I had rarely seen before.

Reflection hit me then. How different she was from the Valencia I had first encountered across that town square in Hullbretch. She had grown as a person. And while who she was now had not erased or even superseded who she had been, I truly did want to see where her path would lead her.

Long and hard had I worked to open this road for her, and now I would gladly help her along it. To become the person she had always truly wished to be, now that the Gods Below’s influence was gone from her.

“Of course.” I returned. “My home is yours for as long as you wish to stay.”

She turned to me then, and smiled in a way I had never seen before. I had seen this woman joyful before. Lustful in the heat of battle. With glee on her face as she crushed others beneath her. Relieved that she lived. But never truly happy.

I saw that now, and I wished for all that mattered for that to never be taken from her.

For her to be happy. I had become invested in Valencia’s continued well-being now. Given up a piece of myself for her. Even if no others believed that she could be redeemed, I would. And I would continue to try no matter how difficult it was.

The baron awaited us as we returned from the ramparts.

“You really wish to leave, then?”

“I will.” Valencia replied. “You know it.”

Londor Ironmoor frowned now, his expression guarded.

“There is little use in a weapon that is unwilling to be wielded. Go then, I suppose. I will not stop you or interfere with your wishes.”

With that, we were free to go. Out of Castle Ironmoor, onto the road home. We spent that time talking. About small things, the details of tomorrow’s war left out and postponed. There was blood and fire on the horizon, yes, but that was not a worry I wished to deal with today. And so it was.

I woke in the middle of the night, a new voice in my mind. The system spoke to me once more.

You have done well, my child. A new name I grant you; Garek the Mender.

Then it too was gone and I drifted back to sleep, excited for what tomorrow would bring.

The End.