One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 18: Vestigal truth

Book 1: Chapter 18: Vestigal truth

Raffnyk paced now as he relayed the situation to me. I could smell the emotions that ran rampant here. Nervousness, some fear, tension, and danger. Stonefang reeked of that particular anger-scent, something his face eagerly conveyed.

The time is nigh, Raffnyk growled. Ironmoor thinks he is clever, and will probably justify this as security. If we had not received a letter than the queen had died this morning, it would have worked too.

I take he would not have done this had she lived? I asked, tense myself. Full aware of the danger now, there was a hollow pit in my stomach. I had little taste for bloodshed, but the situation seemed like it was intent to force me toward it.

By Queen Eliths decree, we were to keep our grudges aside and cooperate. Whoever struck the first blow would have their protection revoked and be subject to the full wrath of the crown. The quill-man who had accompanied Raffnyk to my farm solemnly stated.

Queen Elith is dead. Stonefang snarled. Her decrees are worthless now. An Ironmoor likely holds power in the capital, and his brother will have free reign here.

So, do we sit here and wait for the axe to fall, or do we pre-empt the blow and break free? Raffnyk asked quietly. We are trapped in a very real cage. The longer we wait, the worse this becomes. We could sully our honor and strike down our hosts, slaughter the soldiers here, and then funnel our men out under nights cover and ride hard for The Mornwood.

I say we do this. Stonefang grunted. I just loomed quietly, arms folded as I took in the situation.

The quill-man shook his head.

Your honor is impeccable, Raffnyk, and I know it to be a hard thing to sully it so for the sake of your men. But instead of wholesale slaughter, I suggest we make a break for the stables, strike down only those in our way and then break through the gate and ride for Livant. Give the men orders to split and ride till their horses drop. Smaller groups will mean a better chance of leaving Urthal.

The men chewed it over, in deep silence. Finally, Raffnyk turned to me with a tired look.

Garek, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard you are no friend of Ironmoors, but I would not want to endanger you further by asking you to lend us aid. This matter is far larger than a dispute over taxes. The Kingdom of Urthal is large, and with massive resources they can bring to bear. Our actions here will almost certainly spark the embers of war.

And yet here I am. I rumbled. Happy, I was not. That much was clear. War?

Only as a warning of the danger, my friend. And yes, we are foreigners, here on a specific mission. The outrage this will cause is not inconsequential.

This fucking mission was supposed to ease tensions between our countries, not inflame them further. A woman snapped, seated at one of the tables. But thats the danger os these requests.

Danger. It suddenly struck me.

Ishila. I realized. The orc girl was unaware, likely still with the cart. She had no idea of this plot or the danger. I must go.

Raffnyk smiled sadly.

Then this is goodbye, minotaur. He offered one armored hand. I shook it solemnly and looked at a man I respected. You can no doubt find your way out of Hullbretch no matter what stands in your way. Leave, and do not look back. Distance yourself from whatever happens here. The baron will soon have bigger matters to concern himself with than you.

I nodded one last time and whirled. I was through the door and past the men standing guard outside in heartbeats. The streets were quiet as I barreled through them at a near-run. My claymore was in the wagon, because I hadnt wanted to intimidate the citizens any further. A foolish decision on my part. My mind swam as I tried to process it all at once.

This had all come out of nowhere. I had been aware that the baron and the Verdant Dawn had no love for each other, and had stumbled into a trap meant for others. Was there an even larger conspiracy at play? Gods Above, I just wanted to farm.

Armored men stepped out of alleyway ahead and spread out, hands on their weapons. I gave no shits and charged right at them. Even with Ironhide I barely registered the impacts as I smashed into and through the line they had formed. Bodies were thrown aside and men screamed in pain as I smashed through them without slowing. Shouts rose from behind me as I swerved down another street, near my destination.

Ishila was safe, thank the gods. She sat upright as I barreled closer, concern on her face.

On your feet, girl! I bellowed. She complied and hopped off the cart As I nearly crashed into it myself. My claymore was ripped free from where it lay, and with one regretful look at the milk and goods I was forced to abandon, I gestured her away.

Follow me. Were in danger. I spoke in short, clipped bursts as I strode down the streets. We need to get out of Hullbretch.

Gates are that way. She pointed down another street, but I shook my head.

Cant. I growled. Guards are all Ironmoor. Out for blood. Dont want to get bogged down with archers. Id survive, but Im not risking you.

You have another idea in mind? She asked cautiously as we ducked down an alleyway to avoid a mass of guardsmen ahead.

Yes. I grunted and smashed through a barrier fence. The wood splintered under impact as I forced a path between the two buildings. Head for the wall.

A lone man awaited as we burst from the alley, and his eyes widened as I bore down on him. A single backhand swipe of my arms sent him into a wall, where he soundlessly slumped on impact. There were no archers atop the section of wall we arrived at. The wooden palisades were meant to keep the monsters out and townsfolk secure. Now, they were a cage.

Stand clear. I ordered and lifted the claymore. Ishila complied and hopped backward to give me space. With a grunt, I lined up the massive blade and swung. Brutal Swing accelerated the strike, and the enchanted blade ripped through a section of the wooden wall. Two more slices and I kicked the section of wall outwards. Unable to exit via the gate, I made my own.

With one last glance back at Hullbretch, I ducked through and beckoned for Ishila to follow.

Run. I simply said and gestured towards the road we had arrived on. Her pace matched my longer strides as we cut through farmers fields, growing crops trampled underfoot. I kicked up dirt with every step, back tensed as I expected shouts from the wall and the inevitable arrows. They never came. Ishila kept stride, her expression grim as we dashed for the road.

Farm animals scattered ahead of us, their brays of fear an alarm signal that mercifully went unnoticed. I was panting heavily by the time we came to the road, and continued in silence until the town was out of sight. Until finally, I collapsed against a tree and was forced to rest. Bulky forms were not made for running. My muscles burned, and adrenaline coursed through my veins.

Ishila squatted not far from me, barely winded. The orc girl had a tense expression on her face, fists clenched as she kept watch.

What happened? She asked, tone worried. I waved at her and indicated my shortness of breath before I could give an answer.

Ironmoor. Riders. Enemies. The words came out in gasps as my chest heaved. Start of a war, maybe.

Her eyes narrowed as Ishila processed the information. She was on her feet and in front of me in a heartbeat, deadly serious.

Explain. Not a question, a demand.

Urgency coursed through me, but reality forced me to pant for breath. Gods, I had not run this hard in years. Gareks body was excellent for short, intense bursts, but not long, protracted running.

The Queen is dead. Without her protection, Ironmoor is moving to eliminate the Verdant Dawn. Theyre trapped in Hullbretch and anything they do will trigger a war between countries. Raffnyk-

No shes not. Ishila interrupted.

What? I stopped and sat for second. But, the riders received word this morning.

Shes not dead, Garek. Ishila shook her head, confusion on her face. Queens are a big deal here. I understand it might be different for you, but if she were dead, everyone would know.

Maybe the messengers havent gotten here yet? I suggested. Either way, now that her protection is gone-

Again, Ishila cut me off with a shake of her head.

Garek, if she were dead, the System would tell us, her subjects, directly. I would have lost my Subject of Elith class. There would have been a ripple in the system. Queens and Kings dont just randomly die without everyone being told. When old King Rosharth died, there was a message from the system to all of his subjects.

But-

You arent a Subject, I think, and the Verdant dawn are all drifters unbeholden to any one crown, but I am. I would have known. And there were no mourning bells, no gossip, no flags. If she had died, the damn Eagle of Ulrath would be flying over every house in that town. The death of a ruler is a massive thing, Garek. We would have felt her Skills dissipate, seen effects vanish, stuff like that.

I had to stop and think on that. My heart was still pounding, and the adrenaline made my limbs twitch and mind race.

Why would someone tip them off that she died, then?

The question answered itself a moment later when I remembered what Raffnyk had said.

The Queens protection extended as long as she lived, but whoever struck the first blow forfeited it.

Horror dawned on me as the pieces fell into place.

Its a trap, I whispered in horror. But not the one that Raffnyk thinks it is.

The baron was not some mildly competent fool. Only now did I see how brutally cunning the man was.

He intends to lure them into striking first. I mouthed my thoughts out loud. Thats why those guards didnt draw their weapons on me. They closed off the town to scare them, spurred their emotions on with a false letter, and made it seem like they were closing in. if they attack their host, he has every justification to kill them.

And with the risk of sparking a war, their home country wont shield them. Ishila continued. Lerish did warn you that Ironmoor was smarter than you thought. The man didnt get to be a baron by being a simple-minded thug.

I heaven myself up. The trap had been set, and Raffnyk was about to walk right into it. I had no time to sit here lamenting about how I had been bamboozled into this fuckup.

Stay here, lass. I ordered. If Im not back by nightfall, assume the worst.

I didnt wait for her acknowledgment and rushed off. I ran, but it was too slow. With a curse, I called Reckless Charge and picked up speed. My hooves tore through the ground, earth and stone alike sprayed behind me as I charged for Hullbretch. Just moments ago I had thought I was leaving the town behind for good, and now I returned in all haste.

Open the fucking gates! I roared as I neared the wall. They were closed shut, and I was in no mood to go find the opening I had hewed in the walls. Every second mattered here. The guards out front simply milled about as I approached at breakneck speed. Either uncomprehending or intent on refusing me entry.

Fine.

I called Ironhide and Reckless Charge again and braced as the wall of wood drew near. It loomed before me, approaching at alarming speed. With a grunt, I put my shoulder down and smashed into the wall at full speed.

Wood splintered on impact, and with an explosion of debris, I was through. I emerged from the other side, took a second to get my bearings, and was off again. No one was fool enough to step into my path this time.

The tavern was empty when I arrived, and it took precious moments to pry the information from the frightened innkeeper. My frustration and roars likely didnt help, but I was in no mood for niceties and patience. Rage swirled beneath the surface, coated in desperation. Finally, the sniveling man told me that Raffnyk and his men had marched for the stables.

With another curse, I tossed the man out of my grasp and burst back outside. Vaguely recalling which direction the stables were in, I ran for all I was worth. Stone crumpled under my hooves and my muscles burned as I moved at speeds that should not have been possible for a form this large.

I was risking my life but godamnit it was for one of the most good, decent men I had ever met, and I was not about to sit back and let him be killed because I hadnt tried hard enough. There was still a chance to stop the madness and bloodshed, and I wasnt about to let it fade.

I barreled into the square before the stables to find a scene I dreaded.

Raffnyk and his men stood across from a massed force of armored men, all with their weapons drawn.

SHES NOT DEAD RAFFNYK! I bellowed at the top of my lungs. Fuck breathing, I had to get the godamn message across. THE LETTER WAS A RUSE! THEY WANT YOU TO STRIKE FIRST TO FORFEIT THE PROTECTION!

With that, I clutched my chest and slumped sideways against the brick wall. My head swam, and my lungs felt so small and tired. Blood pounded in my eyes as the men milled, ripples going through their form. A form dashed towards me, and I recognized Joram. The young lad, lent his strength to my weight and helped me towards Raffnyks stiff form.

Garek. My friend. He spoke tightly, caution and relief on his face. I did not think you would return.

And here, I gasped. I fucking am.

Are you sure of this? He asked, his voice tight. Do not give me false hope. Please.

I am. I gasped, and explained as best I could.

Thank the gods you came back. Raffnyk groaned when I finished. Or Hullbretch would have been drenched in blood.

Fuck the gods. I groaned. Thank yourself for being such a decent person that I actually cared.

Anything further I was going to say was cut off as a figure stepped out from the crowd of soldiers across from where we stood.

Well then, A womans voice spoke from within the confines of a drake-faced helm. Would you care to disperse, or will you lift arms against your hosts leal guardsmen?

I could almost hear the sardonic smile in her voice as the weight of her presence settled across the shoulders of everyone in the square. A powerful, oppressive feeling that radiated malice.

You are free to return after our inspection of the stables for fugitives is finished.

Who are you? I curtly demanded.

My name is of no concern. Came the gleeful return. I am the barons Adjudicator, and you can thank your gods I have little interest in you. Keep it that way., bull.

After cautious milling about, Raffnyk ordered the men to disperse. My eyesight never left the draconic-armored figure as we left the square, a crisis averted by the thinnest margins. There was still anger and bloodlust in the air, but the worst had been averted. For now.

Gods Above, He finally exclaimed tiredly when we had returned to the tavern. What did I do to deserve a friend like you?

The reward of simple kindness and respect. I smiled thinly. I expect you to return the favor, someday.

We are leaving Hullbretch. He decided suddenly. As soon as that sham investigation of the stable is concluded, I am going to round up all my men and march for the Redtip. Set up our own camp somewhere and wait for further orders there.

Good. I grunted tiredly. And Im going home.

The guards didnt try to stop me this time and seated on my wagon, I rolled back out of town, picked up Ishila, and began the long drive home.

What a day. Politics, treachery, bloodshed barely averted, and the stark revelation that I had underestimated Iroonmoor by an absolutely gross margin.

Gods Above, I just wanted to farm in peace.