The Red Glaive

Einon got an earful from his father Gebari. Soren supposed most of it was directed at himself, though he didn’t pay much attention. Something about being respectful to the Lords of Mollia. How could he be respectful, when the Mollian’s show of force had been dreadfully boring and overlong. Poor Furiae waited at the sides for them to finish before the evening wore out. No Soren made sure she’d get her turn, no matter how short that had been.

Soren glanced at the door wondering if the lord would notice if he just slipped out the door. Einon had been quick to defend him and that had made the Lord of Aestus direct his anger at his son.

The Inferno Legion was loyal, now and always, to Aestus, but Captain Soren was loyal to Einon Sarkain, not his father. Lord Gebari wanted so desperately to rule over Aestus as King Veritas ruled over all the other lands. It would never happen. Even before, the people of Aestus favored his elder sister Sarai Sarkain, but the King had ended that by making her his queen and leaving the people Aestus nobody to rally behind.

Nobody, except perhaps, Einon Sarkain.

Einon believed he could win the people over in a way his father ever could. He wanted to be King. Soren and his Legion would see it happen so long as Aestus had its own king again.

“If I may, my Lord.” Soren said interrupting, “I have my duties to get about to. I sincerely apologize for my actions and I swear to you, it will not happen again. I will respect Mollia for the duration of my stay and will ask my men to do so as well.”

“You have nothing to apologize for Captain. It was the Mollians who were disrespectful.” Einon said.

Lord Gebari looked at him. The Lord of Aestus looked tired. Tired and afraid. They had killed his sister, they could kill him too. Now that he had a suitable heir in his daughter Kioco. She would never truly rule Aestus, but the husband the King chose for her would. Another puppet lord. . .

Old Gebari finally nodded. “You’re dismissed Captain.”

There was quite a bit to get done. His men refused to stay in the King’s castle, they had been given the bowels of the castle deep within the expansive cavern system beneath. All the other guests had plush rooms within the castle itself, or had been boarded in the nearby taverns. Not for anyone in the Legion, not for it’s captain or any of his lieutenants.

Instead, the Inferno Legion had decided to set up camp outside the walls of Lux Aeterna. The Inferno Legion did not fear the night devils. Aestus was the land of the fiercest of devils. Devils capable of evil, vile magic, devils with faces belonging to men and who could speak. The Legion would not fear the devils down south who were barely fiercer than an alley cat.

So Soren spent his night helping his men set up tents in the drizzling rain. The Avain, thankfully, quelled his rains when he saw them working. The Avain admired warriors and there were none better than the Legion, even if it was the Beast and his divine flames they worshipped.

Even without the rain, there was still all the mud getting everywhere. But Soren didn’t rest until each and every tent was up, and free of any mud. Then he stood in line with the rest of his men, as Liram served them a nice stew.

“You’re supposed to come to the front.” Liram said handing Soren a hot bowl filled with a meaty stew. If there was one benefit to being so far from home, it was having easy access to diversity of food. “Waiting, tired and starving is no place for our Infernal Captain.”

“I’m no better than any of the men in line,” Soren said and Liram smiled. “If my men do it, so will I. The best way to lead is to lead by example. If I came to the front, I could only expect the same for each and every one of my men. They’d tip over the stew before anyone got served if they all came at once.”

“I’d cut the man who ruined my soup.” Liram said waving his ladle menacingly at Soren before filling his bowl.

Soren reached out to grab it but Liram wouldn’t let it go. He almost looked teary eyed. “You're starting to sound like Callith. He would be proud of you lad.”

Callith. It was still to painful to think about. Soren swallowed the hard lump in his throat and smiled.

Soren sat down next to Tej. The new boy they’d recruited from a small Aestus village. The small village had been under siege from ‘bandits’. Bandits with fine weapons and armor and good horses. Some Durus baron’s poachers really, hoping to steal away young men capable of hard work and pretty young girls to fill their brothels.

“How’s the family?” Soren said taking a seat next to the young boy who jumped when noticed his captain sitting next to him. He had been looking over letters from home and nearly dropped his letters into his stew.

“They’re great, thanks to you captain!” Tej said eagerly. Soren and made sure each and every one of the ‘bandits’ had been killed. Tej had begged to join them afterwards and Soren had allowed it on the condition that he start as a messenger boy first.

“Has he told you of the time when we pulled Sejal out of the water?” Nikhil said coming to sit by them. Tej shook his head.

“Hey!” Sejal's voice came from one of the tables.

“Or the time he bought half the slave market in Douwell?”

“I remember that! We ate rations to help make up for that cost.” Liram said from behind his massive stew pot.

“Rations?” Wali said also sitting down on Soren's table. “Worse: we ended up with Timir in that deal.”

“You lot would still be wandering that Flumina Jungle had I not been around.” Timir shouted standing at his table.

Soon, most of the table crowded around Soren's table joking and laughing. Soren's stew had long since gone cold before he actually started eating. Taj listened with wide eyes as the men embellished more than a few stories.

Eventually, Soren slipped away during one of the rowdier stories and found his way to Bones’ covered pen. The black crested griffin hissed at him, but didn’t attempt anything else. In griffin terms, that was perfectly well trained. She obeyed most of the time, and that was better than most. Soren had found her as a newborn kicked from the nest to ensure survival of the strongest hatchling, he nursed her back to health and for that Bones allowed him to ride her.

“Easy.” Soren called and Bones hissed again. It wasn’t until he dropped a nice fat rabbit into her pen that she lightened up.

Bones fed, Soren could finally start putting up his own tent. He made his way to the center of their camp to the spot where he would be easiest to find only to find that his tent had already been set up for him.

Tent was a generous word. It was the massive round pavilion they set up when they knew they’d be hosting lords or other nobility. Though he was glad for it, Soren hated standing out when so many others were just as good, or even better, than he was. Either way, he was tired so he entered the tent.

Inside, plush pillows littered the floor around a fire pit. His cot, thankfully had been set up on the far side. Furthest from his cot Furiae sat with her legs tucked beneath her. She was wearing her veil again. Her aqua eyes focused on the black sand slowly trickling from her hand. Her sand was a mixture of minerals that she herself had divined from one her visions. Explosive stuff, that Soren stayed away from, unless Furiae brought it near him.

“This will is the key to our freedom.” Furiae said her gaze never once breaking from the trickling sand. Soren had met her as a child, in all the years he had known her she had always looked exactly the same. She didn’t age.

“How was your night?” Soren said dropping into one of the sitting cushions strewn about his tent.

Furiae gave him a look, and Soren smiled. No luck with the prince then. He knew she would try, but did nothing to stop her. Assassinations weren’t hard really, one just had to get close enough and willing to deal with the consequences. Furiae couldn’t deal with consequences any longer, she had failed once with Kandra and had been severely punished for going against orders.

Too valuable to execute, Einon had instead taken something worse from her to appease his father. Her freedom. A band of black glyphs around her neck marked her as a slave of the worst kind. To do as ordered or the glyphs would take her free will and her mind.

“I thought I saw a man with red eyes the day of the parade.” Furiae said letting the black sand fall from her hand. Furiae slept in his tent every night. She claimed that it was where she felt safest, though no one in camp would ever dare touch her after Soren prohibited it.

“That’s funny because I know I saw a woman with red eyes tonight.” Soren said and Furiae snapped her gaze to him.

Furiae, as Enchantress of Aestus, knew all of the legends and histories to their holy land of Aestus. Chief among them, was that of first king of Aestus given life eternal by his red eyed queen. A Devil Queen. They ruled together, undefeated in their conquest, until the gods themselves banished the king. The Mountain King now awaited his queen’s return so she could rebirth him from Oblivion.

“This woman has the power to make kings.” Furiae said standing the sheer fabric of her veil falling well past her thighs. She sat on Soren's lap, straddling him. When he was younger, Soren had pined for this woman. No more. “You must claim her and proclaim yourself the one true King of Aestus.” she said running her hand through his hair.

So that's what it came to? To steal and ensalve this woman as Durus did to the Aestian people. Was it worth it?

King of Aestus. Everyday he heard that more and more. The last captain of the Legion had made a bid, but was quickly and brutally quelled by Mollia’s Storm Knights. The Inferno Legion was disgraced until Soren reforged it two years back. “The Legion follows you as they did the Kings past.” Furiae cooed. “I follow you.”

“Einon should be the one.” Soren said pulled Furiae off him. Einon, so desperate to be king, to do right by Aestus and it’s people. Desperate to succeed where his father had failed them. “I swore the Legion to him.”

“So long as he brought them the right to fight for the freedom of Aestus’ people! A promise he has not kept.” Furiae said anger in her eyes. A rage that had brought her to try and assassinate the crown prince with her blood magic.

“It doesn’t change the fact that he is Sarkain.” Soren said. “Only a true Sarkain can rule Aestus.” Or else the Beast would come down from the heavens and cast out the imposter. None of the other gods, except perhaps the Avian, were that particular.

Furiae stared at him as if itching to say more until Soren said, “What?”

She shook her head. “Why, then, haven’t you told Einon Sarkain about the king maker.”

Soren sat back on his pillows. He had, had plenty of opportunity before the scolding to tell him. Einon, better than anyone, knew the old tales of Aestus. He was practically the only person who listened to Furiae about the glorious days of the immortal Mountain King and the red eyed woman who brought him that. Of Baladril and her fiery reign under the Imortan after the same Red Queen brought them together.

A red eyed woman, so prominent in Aestus legend and no where else. Legends and myths all Aestians kept from outsiders and guarded fiercely. Einon would want to know.

But Soren didn’t feel like telling him.