Battle of Haden Hill
Sir Quentin "Wolf" Raeden
Quentin hated this type of weather. It was a foggy and damp day as Sir Quentin made his way across the would be battlefield. It felt likely to rain soon, and rain always meant more death in war. Fighting in the mud as three armies bared down each other was not something he looked forward to. That's why this will work. It has to. He thought to himself from a top his horse. As he rode he looked out across the field at the Athelan war camp. The sun had risen and so the camp was stirring. Smoke filled the air as hundreds of fires were sparked from within the camp. The "camps" that held the three armies were starting to resemble tent cities, as they expanded miles past the initial front lines full of soldiers. Nobles traders, mercenaries, even common folk who just found the prospect of battle to be exciting had been joining the camps, which had been increasing in size each day. Dascus had been running its army out of the local lord's keep, and had built camps outside its walls while Tashar was camped out along the nearby road, cutting off travel from the east. Finally Athela was camped at the foot of a small mountain range to the south, that ran alongside a dense forest. Together the three armies formed a circle around Haden hill, which was covered in a small forested area. From atop the trees could be seen a large stone structure peering out.
How many men might die for an old stone building?
Quentin thought to himself grimly. He hoped the answer was none, that was his goal this morning anyway.
"Sir, we have to go on foot from here." A guard next to him said as they reached the base of the hill. Quentin was riding with a group of guards as well as a healer from among the Chosen and a Dragon Killer just in case. He was representing the Knights of Shotarr in an agreed peaceful exploration of the temple. Based on the number of horses that were standing at the base of the hill, Quentin guessed that only one of the parties had already arrived. He frowned at this, they had made an agreement that no one would enter without all parties, present, but it seemed someone wasn't following that.
Quentin and his group walked up the path that was cleared and soon the temple came into view. "Wow, this is incredible." One of his guards said in awe.
"An impressive structure, but hardly worth dying for." Quentin replied.
They entered the temple and the narrow hallway soon opened into an expansive chamber. There was debris and weathered columns across the floor but the view was nonetheless breathtaking. A golden altar stood at the end of the room. The alter was a strange pyramid shape, and behind it sat a faded mantle on the wall. From what Quentin could tell, the painting depicted a battle between a knight wielding a hammer and some demonic creature. All along the walls were cryptic symbols and drawings, none of which meant much of anything to Quentin. He was far from an expert in the arcane or in ancient history. He cared much more for the living than he did the long dead. Behind the altar was set of stairs, descending down to where Quentin presumed the artifacts would be. There was only one man at the stairs, a foot soldier in the red colors associated with Dascus.
He wasn't surprised that Dascus had been the ones to break the agreement, they never had been a people that care much for rules.
He led his soldiers down, and found a Dascus noble who was flanked by an entourage. The nobleman was a middle aged man with greying brown hair and a bit of a gut. Quentin didn't recognize him but guessed that he was the lord of this land.
"You aren't supposed to be here." Quentin said sternly. "We had an agreement. The others might not take kindly to breaking that."
The lord smiled a polite but clearly hollow smile, as if a child was speaking to him.
"My good Sir, we meant no offense. In Dascus we take great interest in items of magical potential. I'm sure our genuine curiosity can be forgiven. And allow me to introduce myself properly. "I am Lord Sampson of Haden Town, Haden Hill falls into my territory and so by right I am representing my nation in this diplomatic exercise."
Quentin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Commander Quentin Raeden of the Knights of Shotarr."
"I must say I am curious, what are the Knights intentions here?"
"To keep the peace, as always." Quentin replied simply.
"And should the peace break? Then what, where will your allegiance fall?" The noble inquired. Quentin was already tired of his double meanings and sly words.
"Against whoever started the fighting, I can assure you that."
The noble offered a tight smile in response. "Well, that is usually a thing open to interpretation no?"
"Only when you are the one that started it Sampson. Only the guilty play with definitions." It was a new voice, that made Quentin turn his head. It was a woman in armor, with a group of soldiers behind her. Quentin recognized her...
"Interesting coming from the people who have invaded my home." Sampson shot back, his usual smile twisting into a scowl.
"When a scorpion wanders' into a child's room is a parent "invading" by coming in and taking it away?" She asked coyly with a grin. Before Sampson could respond she turned to Quentin, her eyes sparkling in a fond way.
"Hello Quentin, it’s nice to see you again." Her smile was familiar as it was refreshing.
"Lena, it’s been a while. Tashar sent you?"
"Yes, I'm Knight Enchanter now. It's been a while since we were two freezing kids at Radiant after all."
Behind her another group was coming down the stairs, this one made up of elves in golden armor. Quentin knew from experience that they were one of the few things that could unite the Enchanters and the Magi in dislike.
There was a tense greeting given, but the elvish warrior in charge didn't say much, and since all three major parties hand arrived they descended deeper into the temple.
Similar to the upstairs chamber, the walls of the lower level were carved with symbols, and Quentin noticed Lena was taking an interest in them as well.
"What do you think they mean?" Quentin whispered to her. It was strange seeing her again. The last time they had met had ended a bit awkwardly, but this was business and he wouldn't muddle that with their past.
"I don't know, but I recognize the language. It's ancient Tularian. A very old language of the kingdom that existed in the east before Tashar." She said as they continued to walk. Soon the hallway open up into another chamber, this one smaller than upstairs. However it gave off a strange feeling to Quentin. It created a pit in his stomach, like a warning. He almost instinctively reached for his sword, but controlled himself. The last thing that was needed in this hostile crowd was the drawing of swords.
Still the quicker they could leave the better as far as Quentin was concerned. That feeling only intensified as he looked further into the chamber. In the shape of a square, were lined ten gem like objects that were all pitch black. In the center sat some sort of stone mechanism, a silver hammer resting on top of it. The hammer seemed to shine unnaturally.
"Magnificent", Lord Sampson said. That was far from the word the Knight would have used. One word echoed through his mind, even though he wasn't sure why.
Godless
The power I'm feeling isn't the Gods. Whatever it is, it's far worse.
Brialya
Being undercover as a soldier was boring. Being undercover as an Athelan soldier was even worse.
Having spent the last few weeks marching and sitting in brooding silence, Brialya was beginning to question whether or not this mission was worth it. Then she thought of her parents burning to death in their own home and her resolve returned. At the camp things had been much livelier, to the dislike of the priests of the Light. For her cover, she was required to join in, drinking, telling stories, and dancing with other elves. It’s a strange feeling, playing pretend with people who had been your enemy since birth. Still Briayla played it well and she faded right in to the massive army of elves. She was certain the man she was looking for was here. He was a Guardian commander who went by the alias of Purity when giving orders to his lackeys. She needed to find him before the battle started, and she feared she was running out of time.
Brialya awoke early in the morning as she often did, the rest of the soldiers were stirring as well. She made her way to the cooking fires for breakfast, not that the army food was particularly appetizing. After getting gruel like oatmeal and some partially stale bread, she went back to the fire outside her tent and sat down. A few of the other soldiers whose tents shared her fire sat down nearby.
"Think it'll be today?" One of the men next to her asked.
"Hope not." Another said, "Too cloudy, its a bad omen. The priests would see that ya?"
Briayla suppressed an eye roll. One thing she realized in her time undercover was that elves from Athela tended to be terribly superstitious. Their priests often pointed to signs and omens as indication of the Light's favor upon them. Briayla might find that charming if they didn't often use these omens to stir people up into mobs against mages and non believers. Still, voicing these opinions would bring immediate suspicion and so she held her tone as she had been doing for a while. As those around her continued to chatter, she noticed people shifting behind the tents. She raised an eyebrow at this, considering the people she had seen were wearing armor she wondered what was happening.
No orders had come down the chain, nor did she see other throughout the camp readying themselves.
Something is up.
The elvish infiltrator thought to herself as she casually got to her seat and headed to her tent to think. She needed to know what they were up to, but how could she get close without them being suspicious. Just then she looked down at her armor and got an idea, a dangerous idea but an idea nonetheless.
Whatever they're planning I'll stop it. By Faenar's cloak I am shielded, by my faith I am reborn.
