Vedek

It was the morning after their return from Corban’s tower that the duststorm hit. Vedek was awoken by the double doors to the common house rattling. The doors were barred to prevent the winds from throwing them open, but they still quaked loud enough that Vedek could not sleep once he became aware of it.

How early it was, he could not tell. The windows to the Common House were all boarded shut to prevent dust from getting in. The Common House of Tauren Row was an abandoned warehouse at the end of the lot. Thezzus said it was the first building Spiral City ceded to them. They constructed small apartments within the warehouse using walls of wood and hanging cloth. After being allowed the buildings outside the warehouse, the Common House took on new functions. It was a home for the elderly and sick in the community, a nursery and place to hide the children while the parents worked, and a general gathering place for meals and meetings. No table of Athshin was made to accommodate beings so large, so their eating area was marked by a long quilted tarp on the floor with rough cushions for seats. This was evidently traditional for their kind.

The Common House now served the additional function of housing the outsiders to Tauren Row. Azeroth and Frost slept soundly on their bedrolls. It was a wonder that Frost’s snoring had not woken Vedek, but perhaps he was used to it by this point. The Common House was not entirely dark. There was a candle lit in the dining area, illuminating two small fae forms hunched over one of the low tables. It was Odile and Pallet.

“Can’t sleep either?” Pallet whispered when Vedek approached. “Blasted Fae senses…”

The two were focused on a game of Ranger’s Checkers on the table. As the name suggested, it was a game devised by wood elf rangers, meant to be lightweight and portable and capable of quick matches. Vedek sat between them and observed the board. Pallet was winning with little chance of Odile making a comeback.

“The board looks authentic. Is it yours?” Vedek asked Pallet. He referred to how the pieces slotted into the board with pegs, most versions of the game Vedek had seen outside Fae’Riam lacked that feature for one reason or another.

“Yes, a holdover from an old life.” Pallet hummed. “A friend of mine was a Ranger. He taught me the game and gave me this gift when I left the North. The why of my leaving I’d rather not go into the specifics of. People treat me differently when they learn the specifics.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Will you two be silent?” Odile hissed. “You’re nearly as bad as the storm!”

Her fingers were laced in her hair as she glared at the board, desperate for a winning move.

“Sorry. Let me fix that.” Pallet moved one of his pieces and ended the game with an incontestable victory.

Odile made a silent scream withdrew from the board. She scowled at Vedek, then turned the board so that he was playing against Pallet. Vedek shrugged and reset the pieces.

“Don’t you have your own room in the Row?” Vedek asked his opponent.

Pallet flipped his coin as he pondered the first move. “All signs pointed to a storm today, so I slipped over here before the winds grew fierce. Here’s where the food is. Where the company is. I would wake Fern and the other one, but they tuckered themselves raw with the evening they had. Fern told me they visited fifty camps and taverns between the two of them. Fifty! And who knows how many street corners. All to spread the story of who banished the necromancer at the edge of the territory.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Vedek admitted. “I was worried about the boy. About Cole.”

Yesterday, there were but a few hours of sunlight left when their party returned to the gates of Spiral City. Cole had been silent every step between there and Corban’s tower. No amount of encouragement for conversation would break him from the entrenched focus on his own thoughts.

“I overheard that he let the necromancer go.” Odile remarked. There was a twinge of judgment in her tone.

Vedek winced on Cole’s behalf. “He admits to that. Readily even. We only have his word on what happened at the tower’s summit. Rerume was also there, but he left with the speed of a furious man. I think that is enough to confirm Cole’s story.”

“Is he still worth trusting?” Odile kept her eyes on the game, but both her ears were turned toward Vedek.

Vedek did not answer immediately. He looked to the dark ceiling and let himself relive the final moments of yesterday. They had won the battle against the black-clad guards just as Rerume descended from the observatory. He spared no words or eye contact. They had assumed Corban was slain, given that the burning horde had collapsed, but that outcome did not match Rerume’s fury. The Lion’s Claw were suspicious of Cole’s testimony, particularly Lyr, who needled Cole with questions as to Corban’s nature. If Dirk thought Cole bewitched or tricked then he was too kind a man to state it outright.

Perhaps Vedek was the same way. After what became of Zexven, he trusted vile magic less than he usually did. That Cole would not speak more to defend himself did not help his appeal. He changed when they reached the gates.

“They wouldn’t let us into the city when we came back…” Vedek moved his pieces slowly as he spoke. “Red Watchmen, encouraged by Order members in the shadows, surrounded us. We were soaked in the offal of the dead and in the company of the minotaurs’ leader and his best soldiers. They assumed the worst. We were too tired for another fight, especially one where we were so outmatched. That’s when Cole stepped forward and spoke for the first time in hours.”

“What did he say?” Odile asked.

“The truth. He said that the Watchmen should be grateful to Thezzus and his warriors. He shouted that the undead hordes were ended and the necromancer was gone and it was thanks to the deliberate action of Thezzus Brahmin. Dirk echoed that statement. We all did, in one form or another.”

Vedek made a small shrug with a sigh. “They let us pass. One muttered a thanks to Thezzus. I think Cole must have heard that, for an energy familiar to him alone returned. He ran ahead of us, shouting that he needed a more experienced bard.”

“Fern’s always happy to extol the virtues of outcasts.” Pallet nodded. “Has a memory for injustice and a mouth that will get him killed. They’re both good lads at heart, if a bit preoccupied with a stage that isn’t there. Could become a harmful trait if left unchecked. Do you know what scares me most in this world? Momentum.”

“Explain.” Odile demanded.

“I refer to the inability to stop.” Pallet set his gold coin down, then placed another upon it. He repeated the action, drawing coins from some unseen pocket until he had erected a small tower before him. “You set yourself a goal, and you rush for it with all the fury of an eastern stallion, only to realize that you can’t stop where you wanted. An interest becomes an obsession, a beating becomes a murder…”

The tower of coins, now tall enough that it’s shadow bisected the game board, tumbled. Gold coins scattered across the ground in all directions. The cacophony was so great and sudden that Vedek felt compelled to whisper apologies to those they had no doubt woken.

“…And a tower climbs too close to the sky.” Odile concluded Pallet’s thought.

“Exactly.” Pallet nodded. Miraculously, he produced a new coin to fiddle with as he talked.

Vedek couldn’t resist to pick up one of the scattered coins to inspect. To his shock —and disappointment— the coin was not real gold. It felt heavier, like a river stone. Perhaps it was iron painted gold, but Vedek would swear on his eyes that it had glinted like the real thing only moments earlier.

“Now the issue becomes multiplied when you apply momentum to groups. Some people have an idea of where their ideals should end, while others insist on going further, and they all inevitably skid past their intended end point. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times. Did Cole tell you what Ghetsis Reballo said to him? Scared spring out of my step, and momentum’s the reason why. I’d hate to migrate elsewhere…again.”

Odile’s blue eyes narrowed. “You’re a hob, what do you have to fear from them?”

Pallet narrowed his own eyes. “And you’re an elden, yet your life was ruined by the Order. You’ve also never been to the homeland. Some hobs don’t like the monikers of ‘mischievous’ and ‘chaotic’ laid upon them.”

There was a brief moment where Vedek questioned if Pallet was looking to him or through him. All Vedek could focus on was Pallet’s scars.

The game of checkers was close, but Vedek prevailed. He turned the board back to Odile, but she still seemed mystified as to how to strategize a victory. They sat in silence for what was likely an hour before the non-fae joined them. First Onakie, who encouraged Vedek to move aside so that she could sit next to her ward. Onakie watched the game of checkers with great interest and offered to advice Odile as she played.

Through Onakie’s tutelage, Odile was able to defeat Pallet. Thezzus was the next opponent, as he had come to the front to check the barricades. Their game of checkers was the closest yet, but Onakie was victorious. Azeroth played a game against Odile alone, and lost, but Vedek could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Frost had no interest in the game, and only joined the table when breakfast started being prepared.

The table became quite crowded at that point and the non-minotaurs had to crowd to one end to avoid being crushed. The Common tongue became lost as the minotaurs were more inclined to speak their native languages of Esp and Sanaat. Their breakfast was a spicy melange of vegatables known as misal pav. A small taste of the dish proved too spicy for Vedek and he respectfully passed his bowl to Azeroth, who downed it eagerly.

Vedek and Onakie were in the midst of their match of checkers when the doors to the Common House rattled harder than any winds. They all looked to Thezzus, who had final say on opening the doors in the midst of a duststorm. Thezzus said something in Esp that coaxed eight of the burliest minotaurs to flank the door. At first Vedek thought this was in anticipation for a fight, but it was actually to form a barrier from the storm. Thezzus cracked the Common House doors slightly. Dust exploded inward, showering the entry area. Vedek instinctively covered his eyes and mouth and would not uncover them until the howling winds were silenced.

The wall of bulls parted, several shaking pounds of dust off themselves, revealing members of the Lion’s Claw. Drik, Lyn, and Trub were all bound in thick cloth that took five minutes to undo so that they may speak.

Dirk waived away concern for their wellbeing. “We’ve been caught in a few storms prior, it’s a small concern with proper equipment.”

“S-shows how im-portant our news is.” Trub was assisting Lyn remove her storm gear.

The table was mostly cleared from breakfast, though there were a few ears of maize for the trio to eat. Trub took a seat near Vedek and became immediately interested in the game of Rangers’ Checkers. The dust let in from the storm was swept away and many of the minotaurs retreated to other parts of the Common House. Vedek could hear children playing in the school area.

“How much news could there be from when we last saw you?” Thezzus took a seat opposite Dirk.

“Nearly an hour ago a messenger from the Red Watchmen came to our door.” Dirk spoke to the end of the table. “They have long been worried this will be an exceedingly violent Clash, more than it usually is, and they fear that violence may come out before the Clash even commences formally. They do not trust the Feast of Equals to go well, not with men like ‘The Bandit King’ in attendance. They want the Lion’s Claw as additional guards. More than that, they want those who fought with us against the necromancer as well.”

Thezzus was about to speak, but Dirk shook his head. “I made a case for our molochan allies to be there as well, but they disallowed it. Cole, Frost, Azeroth, and Breag, they’re who they want.”

“It is expected.” Thezzus grunted. “Besides, those warriors have already been claimed by other companies. Their feast night will be spent in their camps.”

Dirk nodded solemnly, then cast his emerald eyes on Azeroth. “It may be prudent if Azeroth remains here with you.”

“I wouldn’t have attended otherwise.” Azeroth shrugged. He looked to Onakie. “What will you be doing that night?”

“We have learned of a mercenary camp to the south. Their leaders originate from Sráid. Odile wishes to see if they have any national pride.”

Frost’s ears perked up. “You think they will follow you into the clash? With a warrior like Onakie I imagine you could win handily.”

Onakie and Odile did not share this idea.

“The potential ruler must fight alongside their soldiers.” Onakie explained. “We are not putting a child on that bloody battlefield.”

“More than that…” Odile ignored the comment of her being a child. “I don’t want Spiral City. I want my city. I want justice. And for that I need allies.”

Dirk moved himself to speak directly to Odile. “Best to wait until after the Clash. No point in making alliances with people who’s time is limited. There are always power vacuums following an Emperor’s Clash. I believe in your plight, Queen of Sráid. The Lion’s Claw will aid you when the time comes.”

Odile gave a small smile. It was the most she could do these days. Even though she was safe and amongst protectors, she couldn’t muster excitement that wasn’t progressing towards reclaiming her throne. Vedek supposed he was the same way.

With the storm still raging the group splintered into smaller pods along the table. Vedek and Dirk exchanged details of the Feast and how they were meant to protect it. Pallet and Trub were the next to play checkers. Their battle of wits was electric to watch, even though both said very little.

With the storm still raging the group splintered into smaller pods along the table. Vedek and Dirk exchanged details of the Feast and how they were meant to protect it. Pallet and Trub were the next to play checkers. Their battle of wits was electric to watch, even though both said very little.

Lyn intrigued Frost with popular Athshin strength contest known as arm wrestling. It was a game that originated amongst the Coatlmade, meant to replicate two mighty serpents locked in combat. Lyn would not challenge Frost, as she was still pained by her chest wound, but Azeroth would oblige. He didn’t even need coaxing as he usually did.

The two men clasped hands and set their elbows on the table. It was not a long match. Frost forced all of his might upon Azeroth at once and brought his knuckles to the table in an instant. The slam was so great that it upset the checkers and forced a great debate about which piece was where. Azeroth withdrew from Frost, massaging his tender hand.

“Another!” Frost extended his hand, his eyes as wide as his smile.

“No. I’ve learned what I needed to.” Azeroth said softly. He almost sounded cruel before he added. “You have gotten stronger.”

Frost made a half-smile. The rest of his midday was set to finding warrior minotaurs and challenging them to the game.

With all the windows barred Vedek had no perception of the passage of time, but it must have been a few hours following Frost and Azeroth’s match that Dirk remarked that the storm was thin enough for the Lion’s Claw to return home.

“It is best we return now. Lyr has been by himself all day.”

“Why did he not join you?” Vedek asked.

“He didn’t want to brave the storm, I think.” Lyn said as she wrapped a scarf around her mouth. Her voice trailed off and she looked to the middle distance. “He’s been introspective since being captured by the barbatus. Such a far off look in his eyes. I wonder if the storm then had something to do with it.”

“Probably jus-st s-tress.” Trub remarked. He helped Lyn with her storm gear. “We’re all like th-hat now.”

Lyn nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. Trub patted her shoulders and she reciprocated his touch.

“Ano-ther match, ano-ther day.” Trub nodded to Pallet.

Thezzus called for another flanking of the doors so that the Lion’s Claw may leave. Vedek was not sure how they could say the storm was weaker than in the morning when the winds still howled like they did, but perhaps that was something a native was more attuned to. Even his elden eyes could not see more than outlines and shadows in the swirl of brown. As the Lion’s Claw became shadows in the dust he saw two more take their place, running best they could to the open Common House.

“I think your house mates are finally joining us.” Vedek remarked to Pallet.

Thezzus saw the approaching figures and allowed the doors to remain ajar. The two men slipped through the gap with a final burst of speed. Neither was Cole or Fern. In fact, as they stripped their outwear they revealed their respective green and yellow scales. The two coatlmade spoke to eachother quickly in New Quetzal, ignoring those around them.

“You see how they had the doors already opened for our arrival?” The yellow one chirped happily. He was slower than his companion and had a slight hunch to his stance. His scales were thin, but his body broad. “It was chance before, and now it is fate!”

The green one was less certain of his actions. He had difficulty removing his face-guard due to the thin horn that jutted directly from his snout. “At the very least they’re not throwing us out…”

Thezzus made a gesture to the two strangers while looking to the others in the room. None would claim knowing these coatlmade, or why they were here. The doors were nonetheless shut. Onakie sheltered Odile from view and slipped away. Vedek didn’t know how to position himself. He feared neither of these men, but he did notice the green one was armed with a trident.

“Look professional.” The yellow coatlmade snapped to his companion.

The green one stood at the ready, putting both feet together and straightening his back. Vedek could read the man’s nervousness easily, especially as more minotaurs came to inspect the strangers.

Finally, the yellow one spoke Common. “Salutations to those of the Tauren Block. Where is the one with the name Thezzus Brahmin?”

“He held the door for you.” Thezzus snorted. “You know my name, but I can’t say I know yours.”

The coatlmade perked up more —if that were possible— and jutted his hand out to Thezzus. “Caballero Horca The Field Maker. Señor Brahmin, I have been two things in life. First I was a soldier, came from a dusty hole in the ground and was named a Caballero. Next I was a rancher, and have been every year up to this one. As good a rancher as I was a soldier. My cattle feed this part of Athshin, you hear me? But this year I’m changing my position once again. I’m aiming to be Emperor of Spiral City!”

He shook Thezzus’ hand the entire time he spoke and never stopped grinning.

“I was among the first to enter the Clash, that’s how much I wanted it. I had a team of loyal fighters, led by that man there, Hidalgo Horca’s-Killer —Got his last name from me, for me— None of these warriors are Caballeros or anything fancy, but they’re worth twice of those in any other camp. I would bet my life on it.”

“—And in fact you have by entering the Clash.” Thezzus pulled his hand away. “You sound like a man who knows what he wants. So why did you want to come here on such an inhospitable day?”

Horca puffed his chest out in an attempt to make himself seem as broad as Thezzus. “I stand by what I said on the quality of my soldiers, but some…well some didn’t make it to today. I’ve been just shy of the entry quota this last week and have been scrambling to find replacements.”

“Ah, you want a molochan mercenary.” Thezzus nodded matter-of-factly. “I can bring forth the ones not yet contracted, but I’m not sure if they will make the commitment on such short notice.”

“Have you been contracted, Señor Brahmin?”

“I—” Thezzus stammered. “I am not for hire. Let me gather the ones that are.”

Horca held out his arms to stop Thezzus walking around him. The other minotaurs were scowling at him now.

“I have heard about how big and strong you brutes are, and you truly live up to that, but last night I heard a story about you Señor Brahmin.”

Thezzus was taken aback. Both Vedek and Pallet dipped their mouths into their hands and exchanged eye contact.

“I only caught bits of the bard’s story, but I did hear about Thezzus Brahmin ripping into an army of undead one-hundred strong. Then I paid the boy to tell me the non-bullshit version and he told me the same story! I said to Hidalgo ‘if there is any luck remaining in my pockets then I will find this man unspoken-for and willing to enter the Clash.’ You are the last champion I need Señor Brahmin. Now are you going to tell me that story was all a lie and I came here for something less than the best the minotaurs have to offer?”

Thezzus shook his head. “I will not fight to the death for a stranger. Just as you are head of your ranch, I am head of Tauren Row.”

“But if you fight for me I won’t be a stranger.” There was music to Horca’s speech. He had still not deescalated his tone. “I could be a dear friend to you and your kind. I have no problem with you…molochans? And that won’t change when I’m Emperor. I am a man of my word, and my word is…well, whatever it is you want. I need a man of your quality. What will it take?”

Thezzus looked over Horca to the others in the room. All eyes were on him, but none would speak to him. He particularly focused on Onakie watching from the shadows.

“Your promises are all for after you are Emperor, but what of before? A rancher has wealth, yes?”

For the first time, Horca’s bluster deflated. “Quite a bit of it. Name a price and it can be payed after the Clash.”

“Not after.” Thezzus was firm. “Before. If I am to pledge myself, then I want what I leave behind to be cared for. What that will cost, I do not know, but you are welcome to work out the amount with me this evening.”

Horca’s face soured. He patted the left side of his face in a thoughtful manner. He went to Hidalgo and the two conversed in rapid New Quetzal. As they did Onakie approached Thezzus. They spoke Sanaat, which Vedek only knew parts of —Fae’Riam did little business with modern Sanaatan— but he could still tell the tenderness of their words from their body language.

“I’m leaving the means to escape. If the Order is victorious, then it is one more asset in leaving this city.” Thezzus said slowly and deliberately, loud enough that the other minotaurs around them could hear.

Onakie looked like she might strike him through the heart, but she vanished back to her wards side in time for Horca to turn back to Thezzus.

“If some of your biggest bulls can help carry the chests, I think we can work out a price for one such as you, Señor Brahmin.”

Horca extended his hand and stretched his smile. After a final, certain grimace, Thezzus accepted.