One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 33: Dread II.

Book 1: Chapter 33: Dread II.

A scare, Raffnyk grunted as we sat in the dusk shade of my yard. Nothing more. Just the good baron flexing his might and showing us that distance means little to him. Officially, I am certain it was some rubbish like sending the troops to see if we needed reinforcements, given how long this has taken.

Too long, I assume? I replied with a grunt and accepted the flask he passed around. After my confrontation yesterday, I needed a drink to take the edge off my nerves. The resounding tiredness in the humans sigh made me nod in pity as he rubbed at weary eyes. I felt that, I really did.

Part of my wants to make some pretty reassurance, tell you well be okay. He quietly spoke after a few moments of silence.

That would be a fucking lie. We are, quite frankly, trapped in a massively undesirable situation. The baron choosing to force our hand made the situation markedly worse. With the Apex up the mountain, our task of culling monsters is proceeding at a frankly glacial pace. Ive told my riders that any hint of contact with it means theyre to break off and retreat. But despite that, Weve already begun to lose good soldiers. And now, He is beginning to apply pressure from the other side.

Caught between the anvil and the hammer. Lerish remarked from where she sat.

One of the barons adjudicators paid me a visit yesterday, I mentioned, swirling the viscous liquid inside Raffnyks flask before I took a sip. Potent stuff. Or maybe that was amplified because I hadnt had booze in so long. Didnt particularly miss it either. Splendid person.

Lerishs normally tight features visibly soured as I described what had happened, culminating in an abrupt spit of disgust at the ground.

Valencia.

You know her?

Of her. The huntress snorted. Nothing good, anyhow.

Raffnyk made a noise and leaned back, features flat.

This Adjudicator presents a unique threat to myself and my soldiers. I would say us but you are not in deep enough to yet withdraw. Make no mistake, we are all individuals experienced in killing monsters. I know my men and women are all decently leveled. Some are even approaching their level twenties. We had expected this expedition to be, frankly, overkill.

Doesnt look that way now. Lerish grunted and I nodded along.

Seems to me like youre beset on all sides. I mentioned and took another swig, then passed the flask back and wiped at my mouth.

We still have the good queens decree. But I fear he will inevitably find a way around that, given time. The man has a single-minded focus for brutality.

He seems highly motivated. I concurred. The woman mentioned something of a past grudge, in that regard.

SIlence fell now as Raffnyks face turned uneasy. I could smell the uncertainty from his body and he chewed over his words.

Just spill it. Lerish growled. Whatever occurred between your order and Ironmoor in the past changes nothing about what I think of the man.

A shrug was the only response I could give at his questioning look. Truth be told, if the man had not bothered me again and again, I would have been content to just let him rule from his far-off tower. But even now, I had no strong feelings either way. Aside from the physical dread I had felt in the presence of his Adjudicator yesterday, I was not overmuch bothered by him and his schemes. Inconviencinces, yes, but such was life. I had found that the measure of a man wasnt wether or not he could avoid lifes hurdles, but how well he dealt with them once they inevitably slipped beneath his feet.

Fine. The human finally straightened. But do not judge me for the actions of others.

Go on. I waved him onwards as he glanced around as if looking for a verbal nudge.

Firstly, understand that this was before my time, so I know only the basest details. Secondly, it happened at a uniquely volatile time. The War of the Beast had just ended. Tensions were high. People were afraid. Those in higher positions than I decided we needed a solid win. Something, anything to detract from what a pyrrhic mess the destruction of Gallane was.

And? Lerish fiddled with a cold, empty pipe as the man trailed off. I shot her a glance, and she just shrugged. It seemed I was content to let Raffnyk continue at his own pace, and she was distinctly not.

And Leila Ironmoor just so happened to be in the wrong condition at the wrong time in history. People were terrified of anything even resembling a monster. Demi-human folk had fled these lands, and with good reason. The human purist and their sects had whipped the people into a fright. One that nearly erupted when it became known, through a loose-lipped castle maid, that the young Ironmoor maiden suffered from lycanthropy.

Think on that for a second. It was revealed that an aristocrat was possessed by uncontrollable bursts of madness and hunger that could inflict on others a fate more feared than death. The stripping of their own humanity. Regardless of anything the Ironmoor family said or did, the land was enraged, howling for her to be put to death for their safety.

The old patriarch refused, of course. Human or not, she was an Ironmoor and would be given the respect and dignity that afforded, regardless of her disease.

The king disagreed. He, and others, saw the mood of the people and needed this to go away. Quickly. Decrees were issued, and the monster hunters were brought it. Armies were raised and marched on castle Ironmoor. Possessed as she was, the young lass saw what was coming and, by all accounts, wanted to spare her family the coming storm.

With the help of her brothers, Reiland and Londer, -the man you now know as the baron- she slipped away into the night. But, you see, the Verdant Dawn was already near, and with such a hefty reward on her head and with the promised favour of the king, was not content to let her escape. By all accounts, they ran her down and lanced her in front of her own brothers.

His face was pale now as Raffnyk recounted what he knew.

In any regard, it is not a proud time in my orders history. But different times, different men. Almost all involved have since died off, given how many years have passed.

And yet.

Reiland Ironmoor, by all accounts, grieved for his sister but he understood the politics behind it and eventually accepted them. He plays a similar tune in the queens court these days. Londer..never did. He grew up filled with hate and cold rage for not only my order, but for any semblance of the filth that had debased his sister to a subhuman form in the first place. He spent years on the campaigns learning to wage war and exacting his vengeance on anything that moved. But vengeance is a hunger unfilling.

The grandmasters had hoped the years would have tempered his rage, quenched the fires of his hatred, and that this operation would be seen as an offering of peace between our two factions. He shrugged miserably. They were wrong.

Not a word was uttered for several moments after the human finished.

Well, Lerish finally offered. That does explain much.

You see why I am not eager to share that story with every person I come across. he tightly smiled. But it explains, quite nicely, why I am currently grandly fucked in my current position.

Well then. I reached for the flank as it was passed round once more. We are afforded a choice here. Either wallow in our misery and troubles, a path where we let doom and gloom consume us, or plot a course through this haze of despair. And between us, I would rather be captain of a ship that blindly leads to where the fuck I dont know than just a passenger helpless aboard a drowning vessel.

Pretty words, but they need action to mean anything. Lerish grunted. But if we intend to do anything about this mess, begin by examining it and everyone involved.

And how are you involved in all this? Raffnyk asked warily. No offense, but we just met. Were it not for Garek, I would not have shared my knowledge with you.

Not. The huntress shrugged. Every opportunity to jam the thorn of my existence into Ironmoors side is a welcome moment, but know that this is not strictly my fight. I stalk unseen, not waste my potential standing in rank.

Fair enough. He shrugged.

Lerish is a hard case on the surface, I interjected with a smile. But give her some time and shell grow on you.

If you say so, He muttered, decidedly unconvinced. Lerish just shrugged and leaned back, scratching at Gols ears as the beast slept next to her. It was just the three of us here, with Ishila and Artyom having left to go elsewhere for the night.

Valencia. I addressed the elephant in the room. Who and what is she?

Shrugs were all I received in return.

Given that Ironmoor has been a long-standing enemy of my order, we have kept tabs on him over the years. From what little I know, she followed him back from the endless campaigns and firmly cemented herself as his Adjudicator. To put it bluntly; I have no gods-blasted idea how she came to his service when by all accounts she is the more powerful of the two. Yet she has chosen to serve him, and has done so with bloody efficiency over the past few years. But aside from that, and her list of bloody merits, there is little I know of her.

Shes a Cursed. Lerish neatly threw that bomb into the proverbial room.

Which means what? I inquired.

Raffnyk looked like he wanted to throw up as Lerish answered.

Shes either a husk overtaken by the demon invited into her body, which would make her a Taken, or a Fiend.

You couldnt tell? By what means did you acquire this knowledge anyhow? Raffnyk demanded.

Dont ask. Unless you want me to lie. But anyway, Cursed is a class that hides another class beneath. Like how Spy or Sabateour are hidden beneath other, ordinary classes. In one path, she has been consumed by a demon and is a living manifestation of that corruption and malice.

And the others?

She consumed the demon, broke it beneath her will, and now wields its unfettered power with impunity. I honestly dont know which one is worse.

So we are caught between her or the Apex. Raffnyks head was now firmly buried in his hands and the flask of liquid courage had run dry. You now know the stress I deal with every single day.

You have Garek as a friend. Lerish offered. That is far from nothing. In all this, if he commits to your cause, you gain a massive boost to your forces. Consider that. You have a very well-level minotaur firmly at your side.

Hes a farmer. A man come to seek a peaceful life. Even if I had to, I would still detest dragging him into this.

I already am in this. I interrupted with a frown.

Any deeper. He reiterated with a sigh. Look, I wont lie. You, just sitting here, are already a large buffer between us and Ironmoor. The elf and orc up the road are too, to a different extend, but nobody is stupid enough to fuck with them, and they dont care for mortal affairs. As long as Ironmoor leaves them alone, they wont intervene. So, theyre effectively removed from this conflict. Leaving, essentially, you and this Adjudicator as perhaps the strongest people on either side.

Isnt Ironmoor also fairly high-leveled? I asked Lerish. I recall you telling me so.

Levels do not equate combat prowess. I have no doubt he could hold his own with a weapon, but I suspect the barons skills lie firmly in ruling and overseeing his lands now. Hence why Valencia is his primary executioner.

Interesting. I nodded. Please, continue on.

Morning came before our conversations ended, as talks drew long into the night, any idea of sleep was discarded and plans to move forward were drawn up. Yes, the situation seemed bleak, but I was not one content to wallow in endless misery and induce headaches wailing about my problems. Rather, I would search for solutions and be done with it.

By the time the sun had begun the strain over the horizon, farewells were said, departures were made and the cows mooed for attention for pasture. Another lovely day approached, and head spinning from both ideas and lack of sleep, I heaven myself up and trudged off to the fields where my duties called.