DD5 ~ Chapter 9!

Hans and Rose landed at the base of the crater just after Dale was standing again, and the Assassin was clutching the nonplussed Archer for dear life. They were on their feet in moments, and chose not to speak about the screams they had been issuing moments ago. The entire group started walking. At a normal speed, the walk would have taken half a day, but they reached a keep within a few hours.

“We have arrived.” Tom turned to speak to his friends. “Do your best to speak always to the rank of the person you are talking to, and be respectful without being differential. We speak in terms of ‘King’ and such in outsider lands for your convenience, but we have no King. We have a Warlord. We don’t have Princes, we have generals of various ranks. Our nobility are our Officers, and powerful individuals are various ranks of Sergeant. All of these positions are subject to rapid - and what you would consider brutal - turnover. Positions are won by blood.”

“Wait, so how will you have any say?” Dale piped up. “Your Ki- Warlord must be at least in the A-ranks by now, right?”

Tom shook his head. “Anyone B-rank seven or above has a different classification, and serves as an Elder or Champion of The People. They are dismissed from service when it is not a time of war, to improve themselves in whatever way they deem fit. Being Warlord is demanding, and leaves little time for rank advancement. It is not a position people typically seek, and actually has the fastest turnover of all Officer positions.”

“But aren’t you trying to take that position?” Rose questioned him directly, and heads all around them snapped to them to listen to the answer.

Tom’s eyes went wide. “Rose! Don’t talk like that, you’ll have your tongue removed! Of course not, I only seek to gain an audience with the Warlord where he will listen to my words and consider them!”

When nothing else happened, Tom took a few deep, calming breaths. Dale wasn’t sure if he should ask questions, but decided to was best to do so before entering the keep. “Why is the Warlord out here, at what must be the edge of your city?”

At this, Tom swelled with pride. “Unlike Kings, my people know that the duty of the monarch is to protect and nurture their charges. The Warlord is at the head of any confrontation, and is almost always the first to join combat. They protect their people, they are not protected by them!”

The Northmen surrounding them slammed their arms together in an ‘X’ shape in front of their chests, barking a ‘Huh’ at the same time. Hans looked around with a cocked eyebrow, “So there is a society-wide sign of approval? And it’s choreographed!”

“Hans… please…" Tom squeaked out. They arrived at the gates of the keep, which rumbled open grudgingly to allow admittance. A hairless man covered in countless tattoos stepped out, glaring at the newcomers.

“Here we go again.” The tattooed man grumbled, coming to a halt before them. “Who among you vouches for the others?”

“I do.” Tom responded instantly, before anyone could talk or Hans could make a snide comment.

“You place these others in your honor?”

“Yes.” Tom responded again.

“Know then, if they speak of the secrets of our people without proper authorization, your honor is forfeit.” The tattooed man locked eyes with Tom, giving a slight head shake.

“I so acknowledge, and swear.” Tom’s words made the other man sigh softly and shake his head. Several tattoos lit up and vanished from the man, leaving bare skin behind.

“You always were too trusting, Tom.” The man stated with deep concern in his voice. “I hope you are right about them.”

They were ushered into the keep, and the doors slowly closed behind them. Hans looked concerned, and prodded Tom with a non-poisoned dagger. “What was that all about? Did he have Runes tattooed on his body? That doesn’t work. Why did that work?”

“That was me guaranteeing that the three of you wouldn’t tell other outsiders what happens here from now on. If you do, I will be honorless, and all The People will know it.” Tom swallowed deeply.

Rose stopped in her tracks. “Tom… in the past I’ve heard you say ‘my honor is my life’. Did you mean that literally?”

“Yes. Just like a Mage, if I gave my word and it was broken, then I will suffer. In this case, I’ll die. Please keep what you see here to yourselves.” Tom looked at a thunderstruck Hans. “As for the markings on his skin… our people have followed this path further than any other. I told you, when it comes to Runes, there are none better than the Northmen.”

“I thought you were being braggadocious!” Hans threw his hands into the air. “I had no idea you had a way to make Runic people! Can they actually use their Essence or Mana still, or are they hobbled by the tattoos?” 

“No, they are fully functioning warriors.” Tom grinned, obviously proud of his home nation, and having fun with the response he was getting. “We can talk about it later, but only here and only if there is no one else listening. Or I die. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes!” Hans was nearly shouting in frustration. “Now talk!”

“The Warlord is ready for you.” The guard opened a door.

“Whatever you do: don’t speak.” Tom ordered the others seriously just before they walked through the doorway, some more happy about arriving than others. Hans was nearly having a fit.

Dale’s face went sour when he saw the man awaiting them in full armor. This was easily the largest person that could still qualify as a human that he had ever seen. His armor likely weighed half a ton, but didn’t seem to impede his movement at all. Not only was the armor thick and dense, it was coated in so many Runes that the surface might as well have been a page torn from a book. 

“Hello. I would say ‘welcome’, but you are not. An exile and outsiders, along with many others, a portal to our capital, and a flying dungeon.” The Warlord stood and stalked toward them, his movement eerily silent. “The orders were to destroy you all. Why are you standing in front of me?”

“Sir!” Tom barked, slamming his arms together. “This unranked individual has returned to prove his worth. I request to be tested for combat fitness!”

“You want to be reinstated?” The Warlord sneered, his eyes cold and calculating.

“No, sir! I ask only for the chance to prove that any reason for my exile is void!” Tom’s eyes stayed locked straight ahead, not following the Warlord as he paced in front of him.

“Breaking your exile, hmm?” The Warlord stopped, face inches from Tom’s. “Then I suppose, you’ll want your old position back, then you’ll try coming to me to whine about something? I want to say no, I really want to say no. But what use are regulations if they are not followed? For anyone else, I would follow them. I can’t kill you outright just because you are my brother. Oh, Tom. How I want to ignore regulation.”

“Doesn’t nepotism normally work the other way around?” Dale hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, and he only realized he had when the back of his head hit the wall.

“Insubordination, speaking out of turn to a commanding officer.” The Warlord coldly stated. “Ten lashes. The punishment has been assigned and delivered.”

Dale stepped forward and coughed. He looked down, seeing that his clothes were slightly brighter in ten spots. Almost like metal that had been hit by a hammer. Dale looked around in confusion. He hadn’t even seen the strikes and he was a Mage. He should have at least seen them coming. The Warlord’s attention lingered on Dale’s clothing for a moment as well before returning to Tom.

“As I said before, I will give you the chance required by law. When would you like to begin?”

Tom took a knee, “I formally request to rejoin The People as soon as possible.”

“Then we shall see if you are a force multiplier or detractor within a few days, won’t we?” The Warlord smiled, but the expression held no joy. “Bring him to the berserker cells, and place the proper schema. Our nation will watch you rise or fall, as is the law. Your… tagalongs will have guest rights. We will prepare the extractors, in preparation of your failure.”

The man swept out of the room, and the group was shoved toward the door. Hans locked eyes with Tom. “Extractors? That doesn’t sound nice.”

“If I fail the examination, I will have proved that I lied. I will lose all honor. Then there is nothing keeping you all from speaking to others about national secrets.” Tom ran a hand through his hair. “They’ll take your memories of everything that happened since passing the Wards. It won’t come to that, though. I’ll pass. Please have faith in me.”

“Warn us before we agree to things like that by accident!” Hans chided him.

“You should have guessed by now that he couldn’t.” Dale inferred, getting a nod from Tom. “A geas, yes? Where a Mage swears something, and his own power ensures he follows through? That… can’t be safe.”

“Got it in one.” Tom sighed deeply as the smell of blood began to permeate the air. They were getting close to their destination. “The weight of a promise made by a Mage, but in Runic form and applied to a willing non-Mage. Our life, the basis of our society, our honor.”

“How barbaric.” Rose whispered as he clutched Hans’ arm. “How many die… just getting the geas?”

Tom half grinned, and winked at her. “Starting to come together, isn’t it? Our moniker comes from people who knew some things, but couldn’t explain them. ‘Barbarians’ indeed.”