The Fall of Aldermark - Chapter Five: Plainsworth

The Legion stood in formation in the middle of their previous camp at the western front. They were ready to march, heading north to the nearby town of Plainsworth. Food, bullets, and other supplies had been loaded onto horse-drawn carts. The banners of each squad hung in the air above them. Before their order to march, Commander Blas had climbed onto the back of one of the carts and addressed the Legion.  

“Last night I received information from one of the Karl’s personal advisers.” Commander Blas shouted. Valeria looked for Gada. He sat atop a horse near the supply carts, Marshal Viltorovna at his side, watching the speech. Valeria had everything she owned on her back, packed into a bag and hanging off her belt. The other Ghost Owls were watching next to her. Rakash clutched the Ghost Owls standard, a blue and white owl in flight between two lightning bolts. 

“Karl Aldke Skeider is dead, killed when Karlsburg fell.” Some of the legionnaires exchanged worried looks and whispers. Commander Blas waited a moment to let the news settle in. “And I have also been told that Vlaisim, the Shining One, Chosen of the Living God, was broken by the Cinder King during the siege.” The whispers increased. Arun said a prayer next to her.

“The battle of Ettenmark Field was a loss, and we have recorded many names in the Legion’s annals. Too many names. But this is not the end of this war. Most of you have not been with the Legion long and you do not know our history. We have killed tyrants, and beasts, and the dead arisen. We have fought for money, we have fought for vengeance, and we have fought for the Gods. Now, we fight for humanity.”

The Commander took a beat. He was wearing his iron breastplate, the longsword hanging off his hip had a large lion’s head carved into the pummel that caught the early morning’s light.

“The Legion’s annals tell us of an ancient fortification to the east,” the Commander turned and  pointed behind him. “Skydagger Keep.” He turned back to the crowd. “It guards the pass into the Eastern Kingdoms, to Barta and Or. That is where we march. To hold the undead tide. We will give the Cinder King hell for what he did to our proud Legion. And we will hold!” The Legionnaires had stopped whispering and were standing stoically before their Commander. 

A member of the Grinning Ravens raised their fist in the air and yelled, “For Aldermark!”

Another in the ranks of the Star Vipers, “For Barta!”

Arun joined the other fists in the air, “For the Gods!”

One by one the kingdoms of humanity were represented by the Legion until they were all cheering. Valeria smiled and applauded the Commander’s speech.

The Commander gave a brief grin and hopped off the cart. “Forward!” he yelled, and the column marched slowly away from the camp at the western front. 

The march to Plainsworth started strong. Everyone was eager to leave behind the mud and the memories of the western front. A few refugees had joined them, though several more stayed behind, or left for their own destinies. But as the days passed the Legion was reminded, over and over, of the loss suffered at Ettenmark. Groups of refugees camped on the side of the road amidst broken carts, lame horses, and injuries that prevented them from keeping pace with others that had fled Karlsburg and the surrounding villages. 

Many asked for news from the front. Some begged for food, others tried to push their children onto the back of the Legion’s carts, begging for them to be hastened to safety. Valeria and some of the others had spared a ration or two before orders from the Marshal traveled down the line:

“Give up nothing.”

Valeria resented the lack of empathy even though she understood the reasoning. The Legion had retreated from Karlsburg with speed. The Quartermaster had been generous with food and supplies, an effort to counteract the low morale, but now the Legion probably had barely enough to last them until Plainsworth.

On the second day of marching she was daydreaming of Orite paved streets littered with cherry blossoms when she realized Buren was looking at her.

“What?”

“She asked why you joined the Legion,” Fulon said ahead of her.

Valeria blinked a few times, “Oh, uh...”

“Didn’t you know? Her parents are Dukes back in Or,” Arun smiled next to her. “She gave up a life of cushions and warm meals for all this.” He gestured to the marching Legion.

“Your parents are royalty?” Buren asked, eyes wide.

Valeria turned to Arun, “Shut up.” Arun chuckled. To Buren she said, “Yes, but it’s not like here in Aldermark. There’s more noble lineages and titles in Or than there are grains of sand. They own some land, that’s it.”

“So why’d you come here?” Fulon looked at her, nonplussed. “Sounds like a pretty nice life.”

“It’s boring,” Valeria shook her head. “All politics and etiquette. I preferred the tournaments. I fought on horseback and with sword. So as soon as I had the chance I left and sought ought the Legion.”

Buren shook her head. “If I had rich folks I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah,” Fulon added. “Fuck that. Our mom and dad made shoes in Karlsburg. They were over the moon when we joined the guard. We took care of them.” She lifted her head. “Didn’t run away.”

“I didn’t run,” Valeria said quickly.

“Yeah well you didn’t stand and fight either.” Fulon raised her voice. Some members of the Shattered Lions squad in front of them turned to look at her. “You didn’t lose anything, you just left it behind. You can just go back any fucking time you want.”  

“Fulon leave it,” Buren grabbed her arm and pulled her across to the other side of the column of legionnaires. Valeria could hear her exchanging heated words in the Aldermani language with her twin.

“Don’t blame her,” Arun said. “She’s lost a lot.”

Valeria looked at the muddy road slowly passing underneath her boots. “It’s war, we’ve all lost something.”

Arun looked at her, “Yeah?” 

Valeria thought about clashing with a knight bespoked in flowers, their longswords entwined in the middle of a cheering crowd, her rich black hair.

“What about you Rakash?” Valeria looked passed Arun, ignoring his question. “Why did you join the Legion.”

The Bartan’s dark meaty hands still gripped the Ghost Owl’s banner, the base of the pole secured in a leather sling around his body. “I wanted to die.”

Valeria and Arun turned to look at him. Rakash looked back. His left eye was a pale milky white, surrounded by scar tissue.

“I served the navy in Barta. Fourty years. We fished, we traded, we hunted pirates. My crew and I prayed to Vazara every morning and every evening. Fourty years and not a single storm, not one torn net. Her bounty gave me a family. Children. Grandchildren.” One of his hands went to his head to find a trinket that was not there and he sighed.

“One day, just as we were coming into port, a squall came out of nowhere. A bolt of lightning struck the ship. Only four of us washed ashore. Two of them died soon after from fever. The other drank himself to death. A month later we heard that Vazara’s Chosen had been broken, turned by the Cinder King. The same day my crew were killed.” The Bartan shifted the banner across his broad chest.

“The day I heard the news I walked naked into the sea, took a blade across my palms and mixed my blood with the salt. I swore to be Vazara’s new Chosen, to take vengeance on the dead, or die trying. I found the Legion on the road a year later. The Marshal heard my story, and took me in.”

Valeria didn’t know what to say. Arun put a hand on Rakash’s shoulder and said something to him in Bartan. Rakash nodded and gave a short reply. They both grinned at each other. Arun turned to look back at Valeria and smiled.

“Look at us. One big happy fucking family.”

*** 

The march to Plainsworth took a week. A week of hard compacted rations. A week of screams in the night. The Legion gained a train of refugees. They couldn’t give up their supplies, but these people who had fled their homes knew that if the undead descended upon them, they stood a much greater chance marching and sleeping alongside the legionnaires. 

Their pace quickened on the final day. Rumours had spread among the legionnaires that Plainsworth served as the Legion’s base of operations. They owned property, a barracks where they could sleep in beds and have warm meals again. Valeria was looking forward to not spending every night sleeping on the ground right next to four other bodies.

When they arrived Plainsworth was overrun by people. It looked like the whole population of Karlsburg were trying to gain shelter in the small town. Canvas tents, wagons, and crates of worldly possessions littered the ground below the town’s single wall, a holdover from the Tantari Empire some 400 years ago. The old stone wall stretched fifty feet into the air, obscuring the town behind. 

When the Legion approached they were met with dozens of refugees. They offered jewels, chickens, livestock, even deeds to property. They all wanted one thing: entry into the town. The gates in the Tantari wall were closed, members of the Plainsworth militia were keeping back a loud and frustrated crowd. The Legion marched as close as it could, pressed against the throng, before the Marshal ordered them to stop.

A woman rushed to Valeria’s side.

“You, you are Orite yes? You have a good life in Or?” She had a Zemyati accent. Her face was caked with dust, her eyes wild with something Valeria couldn’t quite place. 

“Um, yes.”

“You take her?” The woman turned and put her hand behind a small girl, clutching to the woman’s legs. “Take her inside. Make her safe. I have money.” She produced a small leather pouch full of coins. “Good money. Just one small child.”

“Uh, I’m sorry I can’t--”

“Please!” She yelled. Valeria shook her head, trying to think of how to respond. When the woman saw her hesitation she said something sharp in Zemyati and moved down the line to the Star Vipers squad behind them and made the same plea. 

“You think we’ll get in?” Arun was next to her, it was his turn to bear the Ghost Owl’s standard.

“Plainsworth is where the Legion was formed.” She nodded up at the wall. “Back when that wall was new. Can’t imagine they’d refuse us. It’s a breadbasket town, they’d be happy just to have more soldiers inside I’m sure.”

“Yeah?” Fulon was behind her. “And where’d you hear all that?”

Valeria sighed. The twins had barely spoken to her for the entire march. 

“University. In Or.” 

Fulon snorted in response. Valeria held her head up high. 

Soon the order to march forward traveled down the line and the legionnaires made their way passed the refugees. The town’s militia were trying to keep them back as the gates opened to let the Legion inside.

“We will let you in soon! Please stay back! There is no more room at this time, the mayor is constructing more shelters but we cannot take any more! Please! Make way for the Legion!”

The gate closed behind them. Valeria could still hear the crowd beyond as a muted indistinct roar, a tide held back by Tantari stone. Inside, Plainsworth’s streets weren’t nearly as choked as Valeria had assumed. Beyond the gate was a well in the center of a paved square. A long line of people waited their turn to take water, and the square was littered with large canvas tents, many more were being constructed by townspeople and local militia. 

People watched them and pointed as they passed deeper into the town. Windows were shuttered and the tight alleys between the squat buildings were full of small tents and lean-tos where people whispered and gathered around small fires. The Legion marched until they were in front of a square three-story building. It was wider than the others on the avenue, with narrow windows, and the flags of the Legion’s squads hanging from the rooftop. The flags were faded and frayed with age. Before the Legion’s barracks were a group of people lined up before a cauldron set up on stakes above a fire dug into the gravel. A steady stream of people were leaving the barracks with bowls and dishes as a squat man ladled out the cauldron’s contents.

The line of legionnaires stopped and Valeria could see the Commander and the Marshal marching up the steps into the barracks. Soon after shouts and loud voices could be heard and the two came out of the building and approached the man ladling out soup.

“Are you Jasper?” Commander Blas asked, hands on his hips.

“I am.” The squat man looked up the Commander and back at the rest of the Legion. “You’re not looking to stay here, are you?”

Marshal Viltorovna stepped forward, her arms folded behind her, her crisp uniform hanging from her broad shoulders. 

“You are addressing Commander Blas Rodano of the Legion.”

“Alright, alright.” Jasper put down the ladle and wiped his hands on a stained apron tied around his round waist. “All sorts in Plainsworth these days, I meant no offense.”

“Where is Keeper Kita? We left this place under her care.”

“Ah, Kita left. ‘Bout… three weeks ago? Went East, to Barta she said. I’m Jasper, new Keeper.”

“And why, Keeper, is my barracks full of people?”

Jasper shrugged, “Needed a place to stay.”

The Commander stared open-mouthed. Marshal Viltorovna cleared her throat.

“Plainsworth has been the home of the Legion for four hundred years. Those beds are ours.”

“No, they’re not.” Jasper was half as tall as the Zemyati Marshal, but he still stood his ground. “Mayor said all empty beds and rooms in Plainsworth must be open to the refugees fleeing the war. You weren’t here, so I let them stay. You want them gone? Find somewhere else for them to stay. Simple.”

The Commander looked back at the column of legionnaires. Most had stripped their backpacks. Some were sitting on the steps of nearby houses, massaging blistered feet.

“My Legion,” the Commander said, lowering his voice, “comes here from Ettenmark field. They’ve been sleeping in the mud and dirt. Please.” 

Jasper looked up at him, nonplussed. He shrugged, “Take it up with the Mayor then, not my fault there were all these empty beds.”

The Commander frowned and looked at the Marshal. They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment before the Commander said something Valeria couldn’t hear. Marshal Viltorovna walked down the formation of legionnaires. Suddenly backpacks were on shoulders and stoops became unoccupied.

“Legion! About face!” Everyone turned around, back towards the Tantari wall. “We march to the square. Once there you will set up your tents and assist the new residents with setting up their own.”

“What about--” Fulon was looking longingly back at the barracks. 

Marshal Viltorovna stopped walking right in front of her. She was a foot and a half taller than the Aldermani. 

“March!” she barked and Fulon’s feet carried her forward with the rest of the Legion.

***

There wasn’t much space left in the town square. The Ghost Owls and the other squadrons had to set up their tents near the Tantari wall. Valeria could hear the occasional shout from beyond  it. She did her best to ignore the sounds as she helped the others set up the tent. When they were finishing Arun tapped her on the shoulder.

“Incoming,” he said. Valeria turned and looked. Marshal Viltorovna was approaching, her arms folded behind her. 

“Ghost Owls!” Valeria and Arun stood at attention. Rakash joined them and the twins rapidly emerged from inside the tent so they were all standing in line in front of it.

“With me,” the Marshal turned on her heel and leaded them to the Commander’s tent. It had been set up near the road that lead to their barracks, furthest away from the wall. Before they entered Valeria spotted Shreya walking slowly amidst the refugee’s tents, golden eyes slowly scanning people as they stared back. 

Inside the Commander’s tent  were several crates and barrels stacked against one of the canvas walls. The remains of the Legion’s supplies, Valeria guessed. Also inside were Commander Blas and Gada Royota. Gada was sitting on top of one of the barrels while the Commander peered at a map of Aldermark. Valeria could clearly see Plainsworth under the Commander’s weathered gaze. 

“Owls,” the old Orite Commander drawled as the squad stood at attention in front of him. 

“Sir,” Valeria said. Arun and Rakash also addressed the Commander. Valeria wasn’t sure that the twins had replied. The Commander peered at them over the rim of a pewter goblet as he drank. Drops of water fell from his grey beard onto the map below him.

“We have intel about the Kingfisher Knight. Apparently he’s holed up in a cave along the mountains south of here.” He nodded towards Gada. “The Karl’s spy will fill you in.”

Arun and Rakash looked at each other.

“You don’t know the Kingfisher Knight?” Commander Blas looked at the Bartans. Arun shook his head. Buren had her hand in the air.

“Yes, rookie?”

“I know Commander, sir.”

The Commander flashed one of his brief grins. Gada rose from the barrel and slowly walked around the Owls to stand next to the Commander.

“Voyis Kariyevich,” he whispered. “Zemyati. Kingfisher Knight. Hero of Ettenmark. The first time. Pushed back the dead. Held the line. Retired.”

Buren put her arm down, disappointed. “I heard he was Aldermani.”

“Most do,” Commander Blas said still grinning. “The Legion needs experienced troops. Most of our officers fell at Ettenmark. And we need people who have fought the dead and won. You’ll leave Plainsworth as soon as possible. Gada will lead you to where Voyis resides. It’s your mission to convince him to join the Legion and bring him back here.”

“Why wouldn’t he fight?” Fulon asked. Gada and Blas looked at her.

“As I said. Gada will fill you in on the details,” the Commander replied and returned to staring at the map. Valeria took the hint, saluted, and went to leave the tent. Fulon didn’t move.

“What about the barracks?” she asked.

Commander Blas looked up at her. “You have your orders, rookie.”

“I don’t want to sleep on the ground anymore. Not when there’s beds and food for us.”

Buren pet her hand on Fulon’s arm. Fulon shrugged it off.

“In Karlsburg we had beds. No Aldermani soldier should be treated this way.”

“Then I thank the Gods that you are no longer a soldier of Aldermark, and are therefore unable to take offense.” Commander Blas straightened up and stared at Fulon, who was grinding her teeth together. “In the Legion there are no nationalities, no noble titles, no priorities other than the service of your fellow legionnaires. Understand?”

Buren put her hand on Fulon’s shoulder and directed her outside.