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Year 163 – Fall – Quintus Mensis – 20th day
Oluja-Borough, coastal village of the Oluja Bay
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As the bright sun rose in the sky, signalling the end of the morning fishery, decades of small fishing sailboats were returning to shore. Helping one another, the sailors salted and dried their fish on many large stones. When their preparations were made, they left their fish to dry and roasted their remaining fish on a light flame of fire. A fragrance of salmon and trout hovered across the large village.
Surrounded by wood and isolated from the rest of the world, Oluja-Borough was living from the exportation of their fishery to Avem and to the rest of the Vale. They imported their grain and had no farmland of their own, yet the village had been undergoing substantial growth within the last few years, and of the 400 residents, two-thirds were young children.
Being the first location hit by the Eastern raids, 17 years prior, the village had been massacred and was in need of newcomers to maintain the supply of fishery. Following an initiative of House Valmai, any men wishing to establish his family in Oluja-Borough had been offered a free slave from the East, of which the vast majority were girls. As the year passed by, the bastards were slowly outnumbering the purebloods, and tensions within the bloodlines were on the rise.
In an attempt to avoid more conflict, House Valmai hadn’t kept them informed of the Kalator advance. That day, when the many residents saw the five ships of House Valmai arrive from the west, most of them remained focused on their occupations, yet when they noticed the red hawk of House Kalator, they quickly took their blades, shields, and spears, and regrouped slightly away from the docking area.
When the first ship moored, Lord Egmond walked onto the dock, followed by a Brahmkal, Lanaya, Alphael, and 10 more fully armoured soldiers. Further away, about 80 more heads were slowly mooring their ship to join Egmond’s side. As the two armies looked at one another in silence, Egmond began to talk.
Egmond – “Will you not welcome us to your land? Is your desire to die that strong?”
A resident – “What do you want from us?”
Egmond – “I suppose you’re the mayor? What’s your name?”
The mayor – “I am Marek Koziel.”
Egmond – “Do you know who I am?”
Marek Koziel – “You’re wearing the Kalator’s red hawk on your tabard and a crown.”
Egmond – “You’re correct. I am Egmond Der Stolze, king of the North, ruler of the Vale, of the Frey, and of the northern Kalteren Sea. Within a few years from now, many traders will use this village as they travel through my land. Surrender and I’ll let you work for me. Refuse and you will join the fate of House Valmai.”
Marek Koziel – “What happened to House Valmai?”
Egmond – “Alphael, if you may.”
Alphael – “Give me a moment. It will be done.”
Alphael walked to the first ship, followed by two of his guards. The two guards opened the large trap leading to the hold. For three days and three nights, the slaves had been starving. They had been stored at nearly full capacity in the three-foot-deep hold. With barely enough space to sit, let alone to tend to their needs or sleep, they had been weakened through forced starvation and were barely awake as the two guards pulled one of the nude girls.
A horrible stench was emanating from the hold, and her bones were seen through her skin. A sense of fear reached the many residents as they stared at the poor girl they couldn’t recognize.
Egmond – “My lieutenant, Brahmkal, who’s standing to my right will become the new mayor of Oluja-Borough. There is much to be done. New houses, about 20 of them, a large inn, more ships, and more storage, and I want it done before the first snow.”
Marek Koziel – “In other words, we’re slaves for you, or we’re slaves for someone else? And you think this intimidation will work? We have far more numbers than you do.”
Egmond – “Far more numbers? You have no armour. How long do you think these children who haven’t even grown a beard will last against well-armoured war veterans?”
Marek Koziel – “Long enough.”
Lanaya whispered to Egmond.
Lanaya – “Let me talk to them and don’t interrupt me.”
Egmond – “Have it a go. Entertain me.”
Lanaya – “People of Oluja-Borough. I am Lanaya, leader of the band of the Silver Lining. This year, I fought against your people, and I’ve killed many. I can see your anger, and it is justified. Those vindictive wishes you are craving for. I won’t tell you to relinquish them, as they are as real as the cold wind scorching your skin. But what I’ll tell you is of the crossroad ahead. Because of the path you’ll choose, both will lead to a life of servitude. Of those paths, one will free you from the shackles of shame as you’ll defend your pride and your dignity, yet that same path will seal the fate of your lineage to the one of shackles of steel. The other will lead you to the shameful life of a second-rate citizen. Through conscription, the yield of your hard work will be taken from you. Yet, from that same status of a low class, you will be allowed to rise through the sweat of your hard work. As you work hard to rise in status, you shall live in shame left by the defeat of House Valmai. Today, I ask you not to think of the life you’ll live, but to think of the children of your children and to choose which life you’d wish for them to have. Will your child be born a slave, wearing shackles of steel, or will they be born Kalator and free as proud subjects of the red hawk? Today, I ask you to forsake this anger that rightfully blinds you. Today, I ask you to have the courage to take the path of shame and live for the sake of your descent. To live so that they can live how you wished you had.”
A silence followed her words, and the peasants looked at one another. Many of them were already bastards, and the outlook of their fate seemed to have lessened in their eyes. A short moment passed, and the young mayor lowered his blade.
Marek Koziel – “If we surrender, will our children be considered Kalator?”
Egmond – “To be a Kalator means to be a servant of the red hawk. It means to live by a code of honour and to serve the Kalator interest before your own. Any man who works for the Kalator’s sake without expecting a wage in return may call himself a Kalator, and no Kalator shall be forgotten.”
Marek Koziel – “Then we surrender.”
Egmond looked at Lanaya, impressed both by her speech and its result. She looked at him and whispered.
Lanaya – “You’re welcome.”
Egmond – “Then you may return to your occupation for now. Marek Koziel, I’d like you to show the village to my lieutenant. He’ll choose where the houses will be built.”
Marek Koziel – “When are we expected to build the first house?”
Egmond – “In an hour, but my men will help you.”
Marek Koziel – “He can follow me.”
Egmond – “Good.”
Lanaya – “Well, I have some slaves to attend to.”
Egmond – “When you come back, a ship will be waiting for you and your men.”
Lanaya – “I appreciate it.”
Egmond – “You know, if one day you wish to fight for a greater cause than just a wage, you could become a Kalator.”
Lanaya – “Is that respect for a sellsword that I witness?”
Egmond – “Not respect, but maybe a glimmer of admiration.”
Lanaya – “You’re going to make me blush. Was my speech so impressive?”
Egmond – “Why did you care to spare their life? For a sellsword, as used to warfare as you are, it surely isn’t the sight of death that repulses you? So why not show off your skill again and gain more fame through their murder?”
Lanaya chuckled and regained her composure quickly.
Lanaya – “I despise war. I despise the cold winter. I despise the flu, and I despise the thieves. From the hunter killing a deer like the wolf that he is, to the mother starving herself to feed her youngling, I despise equally the fate that is written at their birth. Because the son of a blacksmith, like a son of a tailor will call himself lucky, was he to step in his father’s shoes without being conscripted to war, only to die for the greed of a landlord who values his pride and ambition more than the life of his own subjects. Because from the lowest of slaves dying in servitude, to the strongest of kings feasting in their grandiose castles, all of their actions and desires are driven by their fear of their mortality and not by their hope of what could be. Because century after century, those who could carry the world forward drink themselves to sleep to forget their shame instead of fighting to have something to be proud of. Because in a thousand years, we’ll have learned more ways to kill one another than we’ll have names for it. Because all I see no matter where I go is wasted potential. Because no matter how insignificant their individual progress might be, all the lives that I spare may together forge a hope worth living for. But those thoughts are filled with anger, and I am just a sellsword. Maybe I just pitied them. Maybe it is my soft side that got carried . . .”
Egmond – “I misjudged you, Lanaya. You’re worthy of respect.”
Alphael – “Not that I find joy in interrupting your discourse, but I’ll need help with the slaves. We need to feed them, wash them, and then give them back some clothing so that they don’t freeze to death during travel. If possible, I’d like to travel a few miles today.”
Lanaya – “It will be done.”
Egmond – “Then it’s a farewell until this winter.”
Lanaya – “Indeed. I’ll see you in Avem.”
As Lanaya followed Alphael onto the upper deck, each of her footsteps reverberated through the wood. Ropes tied their wrists as the slaves were being pulled out of the hold. Ethen was tired and hungry, yet a void filled his mind.
As he climbed up the hold, the cold wind grasped his moistened body. His wound was hurting, and his might was lacking. As the guard grabbed his hand, Ethen felt anger and shame reach him, yet the lack of sleep in the cold night had made him docile and ready to die as he followed the other slaves into the cold water to wash away his stench. He felt like his life was over, yet as he stepped back onto the beach, washed from his shame, a single thought was running through his mind.
Have you made it out in time? Or are you already waiting for me?
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