<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/>It was difficult to see much, even without the sack over his head, but Barth knew when they reached their destination. The pace slowed down, and the painful bumps he was subjected to in the wheelbarrow finally lessened in intensity, as a feeling of waiting fell. This was it. Even with his eyes mostly closed, lacking any word from Daria or the others, he knew the time had finally arrived.<br/><br/>"Who approaches?" barked a sentinel, and then finally Daria's voice rang out, quiet but still clear.<br/><br/>"We bring a gift for Lord Garth. I was told he would be present to receive it."<br/><br/>There was silence, followed by the sound of brisk footsteps, and a new voice joined in, this one familiar. It also sent a pang of anger coursing through Barth's body, but he was careful to remain still as Garth addressed the leader of the Heart Guard.<br/><br/>"Daria of Colbyne. I have been expecting you. What is it you've brought me?"<br/><br/>"Do it," she said, and Barth readied himself for a moment before the wheelbarrow was upturned, sending him tumbling out and down to the ground. He was careful to keep his body limp, and so as he landed he allowed his limbs to flop around lifelessly. He landed face-down, with his head twisted and staring upward. One of his arms was caught under him at an awkward angle, which was unfortunate given his ongoing need to stay perfectly still.<br/><br/>"What I have brought you, Lord Garth, is Barth Krinwulf."<br/><br/>"Is that so?" he asked, walking closer to see better in the dark. Barth could just barely make out the man's outline; the smell of stale perfume mingled with sweat reached him, though, and that was more than enough for him to identify the speaker.<br/><br/>"Yes," Daria answered, her voice still very level. "The Prince of Linden has been killed, as requested. And now it's time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain."<br/><br/>"Is it?" the man asked, and the atmosphere changed with alarming speed. "I must say, Daria, you have acted quite rashly. I understand that you felt a lot of loyalty for my son - this is understandable, as he was a great man, but that is no reason for you to commit such a<span style="font-style: italic">heinous</span>crime. Murdering the Prince of Linden… my sense of duty demands that I report this, Daria. I am sorry it had to come to this."<br/><br/>Barth heard steel being drawn in every direction, and the tension in the air tripled as more footsteps approached their position. And then, there was an explosion of sound.<br/><br/>Horns blared out from overhead, and a string of swear words came flying from Garth's mouth as torchlight all around them threw the scene into sharp relief. Descending from the ruins of the fortress overhead was none other than Thorin Sgaran Sahir, King of Lebidan. The jeweled circlet atop his head glimmered in the unsteady light as he approached Garth, his knights all around him.<br/><br/>"Lord Skandrick Garth," the heavyset, bearded man roared, "you are hereby found guilty of treason!"<br/><br/>"Your Majesty, I-"<br/><br/>"You aimed to have the commander of our forces assassinated! If you had been successful, you would have crippled the core of our army, sabotaging our efforts in the war against the Tutar. You are hereby sentenced to-"<br/><br/>"No! You cannot do this!" Garth shot back, his eyes wild and frantic as he stared around, looking very much like a cornered animal. "They murdered my son! It is what any father would do! Please, Thorin-"<br/><br/>"You do not get to call me by my first name," the king replied, his tone colder than the frost of Thaam. His household knights stood around him in a semi-circle, ready to clamp down on the blustering lord if needed. "That is a right reserved for few, and that list does not include conspirators and traitors."<br/><br/>"What, shall you let the mongrels burn me like they have my son? You may as well, you bastard!" Garth retorted as rage took over, guiding his words. "Turn your back on your own nation, why don't you? On your own<span style="font-style: italic">people</span>, just to preserve the life of some fucking beggar prince! You… fuck you!" he shouted, and then he spat on the ground at Sahir's feet.<br/><br/>"No, no fire for you, Garth," the King replied, his voice calm but deadly soft. "For a man of your standing and honor, the gallows will do. As for your House, it is officially dissolved. All your lands are hereby stripped from the Garth name, and your forces shall be taken in to join my men. If some wish to serve other lords, I will oblige them, but none shall serve you, or any of your kin, ever again. Your line is spent."<br/><br/>Barth watched as the man slowly fell to his knees. He didn't watch when they hung him, though, simply because there was no point. Once his title and lands had been taken from him, there hadn't been any life left in the elder Garth. And there was no sense in watching the same man die twice.<br/><br/><br/>The prince hadn't mingled much after the deed was done, although there was some revelry within the mercenary unit that night. Drinks had been offered to him, more than a few times, but he'd refused, only speaking enough to commend Daria on her execution of the King's plan. The members of the Heart Guard who'd gotten close to him during his time with them had been disappointed when he turned down their invitations, but Barth had reached his limit on drinks in the wake of Verana's death. For him, the time for celebration was over before it could even begin.<br/><br/>Antisocial as he was feeling, eventually Barth received a request he couldn't possibly refuse.<br/><br/>The fortress that had been carved into the hill wasn't much of a palace, but the King clearly preferred it to tents down among the soldiers. Barth walked into a room that looked like a shabby ruin that had been hastily decorated; there was a large rug spread over an uneven floor, and several tapestries just barely fell short of being able to obscure the large holes decorating two of the walls. Still, it was clear pains had been taken to make the place more suitable for royalty. The fireplace against the far wall was big and looked to have been recently restored.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"You summoned me, Your Majesty?" </span><br/><br/>Thanks to his immense midsection and curly brown beard, Sahir was instantly recognizable, even if he chose to forgo the jeweled circlet and sword. As the hefty man stood up, rising from the ornate, carved chair he'd been lounging on, it occurred to Barth that it was the first time he could recall ever being alone with the Lebi king.<br/><br/>"I have. I am told you aren't participating in the festivities."<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"It's not a night for celebrating. Not for me." <br/></span><br/>"I am also told you approved of my plan?"<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"It was cunning," </span>Barth replied, not in a tone to suggest he was being complimentary, but rather a simple statement of fact.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"You knew what Garth would want, and where he'd go for it to be done. And you laid the trap and sprang it without him ever becoming aware of it." </span><br/><br/>"I have never lacked for cleverness," Sahir replied, as he turned to gaze into the roaring fire that was the room's only light source. "But at the end of the day it is simply a matter of understanding what is needed, and knowing how to acquire it. Any king worth his salt can do this."<br/><br/>A silence fell, and Barth felt an impatience growing in him as he watched the man. There was only one reason Sahir had summoned him, and they both knew it wasn't to hold a discussion about monarchs and their faults. Barth already knew far too much on the subject, after watching his father in action for so long.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"You want something from me. What is it?"<br/></span><br/>"What I want," the king said as he turned around, his pristine red cape swishing up behind him as he moved, "is you. I want you to stay in Lebidan when this is all over. I want you to remain here, and command my army."<br/><br/>Barth blinked, caught off guard.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"What? I… what of Linden?"</span><br/><br/>"What<span style="font-style: italic">of</span>Linden? There is nothing left for you back there, Barth. Your people will not forsake the safety of my city's walls, nor could you ask such a thing of them. They've endured enough."<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"I don't understand. Why do you want me, after everything that's happened?" <br/></span><br/>"In the first little skirmish we had against the Tutar, we lost damn near half the men we sent to aid your people," the other man responded, reaching down to seize a silver goblet that had been perched atop a small circular table near his seat. "After that, even with all the horrors I've been told of, we lost far fewer in the battle than I thought we would. You held our people together, in the face of all that," he finished, before drinking deeply from the cup. The smell suggested it was a wine of some sort; Barth was relieved when the man didn't offer him any. "So the reason I want you, Barth, is you're good at what you do," he added after wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. "You're a gifted commander."<br/><br/>When Barth didn't answer right away the king went on, continuing a speech that had clearly been well rehearsed.<br/><br/>"With Lebidan's forces at your disposal, you'll lead an army the likes of which you've never had before! Even in its prime, Linden could never match such a force! And you would have quite a force indeed, as I have truly seen the value of women soldiers, thanks to your Maidens and the others. I know of Sen the Sister, and I have elected to follow your example."<br/><br/>Barth winced at the term 'Maidens' —<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFFF00">It's just 'Maiden' now, I guess</span></span>— before shaking his head stoically. He didn't even want to ask about how the king knew everything he did - the man had informants everywhere, and it seemed that they were reasonably unbiased.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"We would have been crushed, if not for the intervention of the Gods. You give me too much credit."</span><br/><br/>"Wrong, Prince Barth. I don't give you nearly enough. There were indeed Gods out there, and you<span style="font-style: italic">gave orders</span>to them! You'll perhaps try to say you were merely doing what you needed to do, but I would then tell you that very few men could have risen to such a challenge, and what you demonstrated is the mark of a gifted leader. Borim Garth's death was…<span style="font-style: italic">unfortunate</span>," he added, with a certain hesitation that suggested he didn't think it was unfortunate at all, "but the man's father was an ever-present thorn in my side. And the son himself was poised to take that role on with great enthusiasm once his old man stopped getting out of bed in the morning. Beyond that, the man was a coward. I won't condone it happening again, but I won't hold what happened against you. I need a commander of your quality. Once this is all over, you'll need a home, young Barth. Accept the power that is your due. Don't walk away from your true calling."<br/><br/>Barth took a breath and opened his mouth, only to close it again as the words landed home. Whatever he'd been expecting after receiving his summons, this wasn't it. He didn't know how to handle any of it, and the king knew it. As such, Sahir seemed intent on pressing his advantage while he had it.<br/><br/>"Stay, and your people will thank you. They will stand by your side as you achieve greatness in the name of Lebidan. Don't drag them back to the rubble of their failed dreams, when you can instead build a new future with them."<br/><br/>The king's manner of speaking was convincing, and the tone of voice he used only lent the words more power than they already had. Sahir spoke truly, even if Barth didn't want to admit it - returning to Linden wasn't something he'd ever thought about, but that was because he never saw a point to it. With the threat of the Tutar looming overhead, he'd never stopped to think about life after all of it was over. It seemed presumptuous to assume he'd actually live to see that day.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"None of this means anything if we don't survive what is coming. You're planning very far ahead, Your Majesty. Nothing is promised."<br/></span><br/>"Oh, I have the utmost faith in you, Prince Barth. But it's just something to think on, in the meantime," he answered, looking Barth over with a thoughtful expression on his rounded face.<br/><br/><br/>Try as he might to shut out the voice, the lone Lindenian riding with the Heart Guard had a difficult time forgetting Sahir's offer as they made their way back to camp. He hated how tempting the words were; deep down, he could see their truth, but it was a reality he had no interest in examining. The king was behind him, somewhere; he'd be present when Barth did what needed to be done, back at the camp. Which was fine by him - the more people there, the better. First, he'd need to make sure things were calm in his own camp, where unrest was almost a guarantee.<br/><br/>He was unsurprised to find Ausan and Haman trading blows - or blows for hugs - once he reached the Lindenian camp's outskirts.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Alright Haman, no need to keep crushing her. I'm back. And I'm fine,"</span>he added as he smiled at Ausan, whose eyes looked a bit glazed over as Halan set her down. There was some blood on her face, which he wiped away with a gentle hand.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Sorry if I worried you,"</span>he said, before quickly pulling his head back to avoid her fist as she tried to swing at his face.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"I really didn't have much of a choice in how things got started," </span>he went on, fighting the urge to chuckle.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"But I'm back now, and there's something I need to do."</span><br/><br/>A short time later he stood on a raised platform, in front of the entire allied army. Heart Guard, Lebi knights and soldiers, every last Lindenian, they were all assembled. Even the king was in attendance, and he waited off to one side, undoubtedly intending to speak the moment Barth was finished. The man had his own goals and plots, even in the midst of a war that would determine the fate of humanity itself. And in spite of how crazy and misguided that seemed, Barth couldn't help but admire him for it.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"What happened to Borim Garth was a mistake, and it should not have occurred,"</span>he said loudly, projecting his voice out over the heads of those gathered.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"In Linden we ran into hard times, and we forgot a lot of things. Now, as a part of a single, unified force, we must remember them once again. Borim Garth was a coward and a liar, and he is largely responsible for the death of one of Linden's most honored heroes, Verana Snowblade, my sister and fellow soldier. But that did not give me the right to do what I did. Ausan was wrong, but the blame lies on my shoulders for allowing this to happen. I accept full responsibility, and I swear to you all, I shall try to do better for you and by you, in the future." <br/><br/></span>The king stood up on the dais, and as he began praising Barth's hand in the previous victory the prince tuned him out, staring among those assembled. The Lindenians were quiet, neither angry or cheerful - they knew Barth did what was necessary, but to many he'd undoubtedly displayed a bending of the knee to the other factions. The wiser among them knew how important such actions were when it came to the army as a whole, but that still didn't make them love it. The Heart Guard and Lebis were divided; some seemed surprisingly upbeat, and it occurred to Barth just how many of the red-bearded knight's own countrymen had disliked him. His father, it seemed, was even less popular.<br/><br/>The mercenaries who'd been in Barth's presence during the king's gambit were among those who seemed pleased; something about him had drawn them to him, although he wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps he was an inspirational type of person, but only when his hands were bound. In any case, he was going to keep them close, particularly their leader. Daria's mind was one he wanted at his side, as it would be foolish to disregard her perspective.<br/><br/>The Lebis who didn't look happy about anything in particular were split up into two groups, one of which was composed of Garth loyalists who held no love for Linden or its prince. The other consisted of members of Garth's house who had no desire to fight directly under the king. As Sahir declared Garth's house dissolved, announcing the recruitment of the disgraced lord's soldiers into the king's own ranks, there was a great deal of outburst from these people.<br/><br/>Barth spotted Jahal Resuran as he calmed down the men around him; the lord knight had a presence about him the prince hadn't noticed before, as he effectively controlled the situation on his way to over where the king stood. Barth hadn't been certain of how the man with the braided mustache would respond to Borim's burning, but not only was the man still on his side, he seemed to have grown into much more of a leader now that the red-bearded shadow of Garth was no longer looming over him. He was curious as to what Resuran was going to tell the king, but he found his attention taken over by a woman standing near the front of the assemblage. He stepped down from the dais, having no other reason to remain up there, and approached her.<br/><br/>"It is good to see you back, my Prince."<br/><br/>Barth inclined his head with a smile as the Sister with a shaved head saluted him. Her right arm was almost entirely covered in bandages, and there was a deep, fresh scar going across her forehead. Still, her injuries were overshadowed by the darkness encompassing her features.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"What of Yuleyne?"</span>he asked, remembering the woman's sister, a grizzled veteran with broad shoulders and an axe perpetually in her grasp.<br/><br/>"She lives on," the soldier replied bluntly, her expression immobile. "Drorghan crushed her."<br/><br/>The smile slid from his face and impulsively, without thinking, he seized her with an arm and pulled her in close. There was a stiffness, punctuated by surprise and uncertainty, but then Bren was melting, rigid spine bending as she sobbed onto Barth's chest. His arm he kept encircled protectively around her as he remembered her fierce older sibling.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> "May Rune's hand guide her,"</span>he whispered, patting her gently on the back as she pulled away slightly, grief and gratitude spilling from her eyes.<br/><br/>"And may Naiya light her path."<br/><br/>He let go of her, and the woman smiled one last time at him before turning and walking back among the tents; he hoped she would find some time to rest, and perhaps grieve in solitude - soon the time for things such as that would be lost, and battle would take hold once again. Of that, he had no doubt.<br/><br/>He was leaving the area when he heard an outburst of cheering and applause; turning around showed him Resuran raising a hand to the crowd as a large number of Lebis shouted his name. The king clapped the former lord knight on the shoulder, nodding approvingly, and then Barth remained where he was, curiosity having gotten the better of him. Eventually, the man reached where he was waiting.<br/><br/>"Prince Barth."<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Jahal,"</span>he replied with a smile as they clasped each other's forearms for a moment. The other man ran a finger through his braided mustache, and although it was likely just a nervous habit, Barth found himself wondering if he did it on purpose to make people look at it. It certainly drew attention, at any rate.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> "What was all that about?" <br/></span><br/>"A great number of Garth's men held no love for the lord, and do not wish to fight directly under the king," he replied, indicating the section of the crowd that had been cheering not long before. "Many are loyal to me, and to our Lindenian allies. I have taken them all in, with the king's approval."<br/><br/>Barth nodded, pleased by the new development. Resuran was a capable man, and it was good to see him being granted some measure of the influence he deserved. It was fitting that this would come on the heels of Garth's destruction, as that was the flag under which the knight had toiled for far too long. Which reminded him of his next question.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Shall I once again refer to you as Lord Knight?" <br/></span><br/>"Nay," came the reply. "I am no knight, but I am a captain. I am without a banner, and the men who will fight under me are the same. We are an independent unit, the Flagless Ones, and we answer only to the allied commander. Our allegiance is not to Lebidan or Linden, but to humanity itself."<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"The flagless ones…"</span>Barth said quietly, remembering something from the first years of Linden's war against the Tutar.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"The Tutar had a word for lone soldiers left out on the field, the last of their units. These soldiers were alone, with no flags, no support - the Tutar called them <span style="font-style: italic">lagw'as</span>, meaning 'easy prey'. But a soldier pushed to the limit, with nothing left, and only death to look forward to is not easy prey. The Tutar would attack aggressively, eager to take the final kill, and they would die. Many lives would be given for the one, until eventually the Tutar had a new name for the bannerless men who died last. "<span style="font-style: italic">Re'negrish</span>. They called them the 'Red Death', because by the time they finally fell, the last soldier would be painted, from head to toe, in the blood of the Tutar." </span><br/><br/>Resuran stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "The Red Company, then. Thank you, Barth."<br/><br/>The prince clapped the man's shoulder, then watched as he left to rejoin his new comrades.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"So long, Captain Resuran." </span><br/><br/>The man had been through quite a bit since the beginning - all of them had, and if history was any indicator, things weren't going to be slowing down any time soon. The atmosphere was certainly quiet, still ringing with the aftermath of the tremendous battle that had been recently fought, but to Barth the silence gave way to a sense of waiting - waiting for whatever would be happening next, and he needed to be ready for it. They all did.<br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Upper Regions</span></span><br/><br/>Being in the garden still offered the God some modicum of the solace he desired, but there was a sad note to the tranquility now. As if the time he could afford to spend within it was suddenly finite after previously being thought everlasting.<br/><br/>Rolyn knew the wolf was there before he opened his eyes.<br/><br/>It was a presence he was all too familiar with, even if it had been a while since their last meeting. Rolyn looked at his visitor, and the old, grizzled wolf moved quickly so as to stand directly in front of his seat, between him and the shimmering waters of the fountain.<span style="color: #00BFFF">"What is it, Fenric? I haven't seen you in a long time. I believed maybe you'd forgotten about me." </span><br/><br/>A soft whine emerged from the greying muzzle, and the slightest shake of a head gave Rolyn his answer. He smiled, and put a hand out, feeling the top of the wolf's head as it brought it forward to meet his palm.<span style="color: #00BFFF">"I know, I know. You would never forget a friend. Are you well?" <br/></span><br/>When the wolf pulled away and fixed him with a steady stare, its head tilted slightly to one side, Rolyn raised an eyebrow.<span style="color: #00BFFF">"There is no need to worry about me. I have done alright on my own, Fenric. I have been around for a long time, you know. And I can handle whatever tasks stand before me. Weylyn is on Soluunar, and is in greater need of your protection than I." <br/><br/></span>The staring continued, only this time it was punctuated by a quick, sharp bark.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Nonsense. The situation is under control. And even if it wasn't, I have no enemies here."<br/></span><br/>The next bark was a bit louder than the previous, and it carried a new edge to it. Rolyn's smile slipped away and he narrowed his eyes, affronted.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Well now, there's no need to be sarcastic about it." <br/></span><br/>The wolf moved closer and nudged him with its nose, and Rolyn released a sigh of resignation. Fenric, the wolf who'd raised Weylyn, was no ordinary animal. He'd been blessed with the ability to travel between the realms, among many others - old as the greying beast was, it was about as close to a God as any animal could come. It was also incredibly intelligent, although that was natural, and not something granted to it by Rolyn.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Fine, I will admit, most of my supporters are out of reach, fighting a war down below. But that does not mean anything. Everyone understands what must be done, even if they don't like it." <br/></span><br/>Another whining sound came then, as the wolf broadcasted its doubts, but then its head was on Rolyn's knee and the Circle God closed his eyes once again, listening to the sound of the water as he placed a hand gently atop the wolf's head. It was a peaceful moment, the kind Rolyn sought out whenever possible, but it was short-lived. Mere seconds had gone by when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears, and then Fenric lifted his head, indicating the steps were headed for them.<br/><br/>"My Lord, forgive me for the interruption."<br/><br/>Rolyn's eyes opened, and he watched as the man, pale and slim, with dirty blond hair kept in a short ponytail, walked closer. He was a Demigod, and it only took a few cursory look to figure out that he was one of Naiya's. He was young, and at the moment, he looked uncertain and worried. Rolyn offered him a smile; it wasn't often he was interrupted in the garden by someone not seeking to yell or complain, as of late.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"It is no interruption at all. What can I help you with?"</span>he asked, standing up as the young Demigod drew closer. Fenric watched him with expectant curiosity, and the man glanced down at the wolf for a moment before returning his attention to Rolyn's face.<br/><br/>"It is Lady Naiya, she… something happened, and she won't tell us anything."<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Something happened?"<br/></span><br/>"We think she was… I… I'm sorry, but would you come with me? I don't know who else-"<br/><span style="color: #00BFFF"><br/>"Yes, of course,"</span>Rolyn interrupted, unwilling to let the man's stammering continue longer than it had to.<span style="color: #00BFFF"> "Lead the way, Piedal." </span><br/><br/>The Demigod stared at him for a moment, surprised, then nodded and started walking. Rolyn followed in his wake, with Fenric trotting along at his side as they left the garden behind. While they moved along, drawing closer to the Fire Goddess's dwelling, the Circle God considered how unusual it was for someone from Naiya's camp to be coming to<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>for assistance. If it was something they needed a bit of seniority for, Malinar would seem like the obvious choice.<br/><br/>Something most definitely wasn't adding up.