A haphazard pile of papers spread across the soft green leather of the top of his desk as he walked into his office. Yesterday’s reports waiting on him as the Seneschal of Valard’s Tower, outlining all of the issues his Master’s lands had faced since the day before. All of the issues that of course only he could do something about. With a wry grimace he once again reflected on the fact that scared slaves did not make for good decision makers, especially when the wrong decision led only to death and the writhing wall.

Flicking through the reports, he found crop yields, mine yields, workforce numbers, imports and exports. Numbers, so many numbers. But most could be ignored because there was little change in them day to day. Today there were only two numbers that demanded further attention, the rapidly falling yield at the only copper deposit within Valard’s lands, and a larger than usual stock loss at one of the outlying worksites.

The stock loss was easily dealt with because another report from one of Valard’s watchers told him a larger than normal pack of wolves had been sighted nearby and tasking a few extra hunter patrols to the area would take care of them. The copper mine was far more annoying because he’d have to deal with Spaendt, the Fae Chanar who ran the Dwaris Fae mines. Corvus detested him because he was crude, foul-mouthed, and arrogant beyond even what was normal for the notoriously arrogant Fae Chanar.

Corvus’ Master’s experimentation required copper at times and if there was none when it was wanted, he would be punished again so he had to deal with the detestable overseer of the mines.

Normally he enjoyed his almost total autonomy his Master’s obsessiveness with his projects gave him, but right now he’d love to see Spaendt squirm when confronted by his Master. Valard was one of the few of Spaendt’s brethren who could and would take him to task if he showed even the slightest disrespect.

Standing he headed toward the stairs and Valard’s workroom deep in the bowels of the tower, dealing with other Fae Chanar required his Master’s approval.

The workroom when he entered stank of hot metal, blood, burnt sand and charred wood. Valard must have just finished a pour, the stink of burned blood was new though.

Not bothering to wait because Valard would likely not even notice he was there he said, “Master the morning reports are dealt with and I will need your authorisation to purchase copper from the Dwaris mines.”

“Copper? Certainly, when you are making that order get some sismaet. I think that may be the key to the Iaernide brain to limb messaging system, all the bodies I’ve seen have had hair thin lines of it throughout. I had thought it was just impurities but perhaps not. Those damn Royals surely they wouldn’t miss just one little core now… I would learn so much and be able to recreate their servants under my own control. Just imagine, an army of tireless, self-aware Golems performing all those tasks I have to rely on useless Fae for. Bah, but the Royals made it very clear that it would be seen as an act of war to attempt it and they would hold all Fae Chanar responsible. I dare not or I’ll bring all of my brethren down on my head.” Shaking his head he turned back to watching the smoke spouting from the relief holes in the castings.

“Is there anything else you need Master?” Corvus asked as he knew he’d already been dismissed. Corvus turned as if to leave but stopped and turned back saying, “Oh one last thing I almost forgot, one of your previous subjects was seen near Grao Tree worksite. A Goblin on a horse with of all things a tribes girl, the description mentioned scales on it’s face and arms, like the one that escaped that we never found.”

Eyes now glued to a small indicator on the casting frame Valard absently said, “Hmm Goblin?… Oh yes the recipient of the Dragon’s heart, blood and bone shavings. I never did get to finish my observations, I planned a full vivisection once the grafts had taken. Have the guard capture it if they see it again and bring it here.”

Inclining his head Corvus said, “Your will Master, was there anything else?”

“No, no that will be all… actually wait, there was a report made to a watcher by one of the herdriders. That group of Oruc Fae near Crimson Sun Farm are acting up and stealing beasts, go deal with them. Run out of my lands or killed, either works.”

Corvus bowed saying, “Your will Master.”

Leaving the workroom he headed back upstairs.

Reaching the main hall he touched the golden Skull of his badge of office, in a flash of golden light his armour appeared shining silver in the bright sun slanting in through the tall windows. He bent over, touched his toes and did a few side bends to settle the armour into place, it never sat quite right after the enchantment equipped it. Reaching over his shoulder he checked to make sure his sword was free in it’s scabbard before taking his helm from the thong it hung on at his belt and settling it on his head. He didn’t expect to be attacked but it never hurt to be prepared.

The huge mosaic sigil in the main hall was the only place in the tower that was not blocked by anti-teleportation wards. Corvus hated it and had often argued that he could respond faster if they were just a little more relaxed but Valard was paranoid about anyone gaining access to his tower. With good reason Corvus had to admit.

Standing on the sigil he teleported out to the worksite.

Appearing in the yard he landed in a deep mud puddle because the entire yard was chewed up by hooves, groaning and dreading the cleaning he’d have to do later he walked over to the mess hall.

Walking in the floor was covered in tracked in mud but the tables were well scrubbed and the smell coming from the very clean hearth where the cook was working on something in a pot was appetising.

He walked up and said, “Hello. I’m after the overseer any idea where she is?”

The plump Fae straightened up and said, “Oh Seneschal I didn’t see you come in. She’s up at the back fields looking into the Oruc Fae problem.”

“Back fields? I’m guessing they aren’t very close.”

shaking her head she said, “No they aren’t. It’s a fair distance to ride and I wouldn’t want to walk it.”

Corvus sighed and said, “I suppose there aren’t any horses left?”

Grinning the cook said, “There’s only mine but she’s old and almost ready for the knackers, your tinworks there would be too much for her I’d be guessing.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take her, not like I’ve got much choice.”

Not too much later he was riding through rich grasslands heading toward the farm boundary, his armour stored away and his arse complaining loudly about the sharpness of the mare’s spine under the thin herdriders saddle.

The long ride gave him time to think, the Oruc Fae had been here for longer than he’d been Seneschal. In all those turnings they’d been model inhabitants even if unwanted. They hadn’t really been seen since they’d appeared, stolen a small herd, and made for the hills.

He wondered what changed.

Soon enough he saw a group of Fae near a herd of beasts, using their horses to cut individuals out of the herd, inspect their brand, and then put them in one group or the other.

Over near the forest of tall dark trees choked with undergrowth and vines he spotted the huge roan stallion he’d been told was the overseer’s regular mount. Even from here he could see the wide trampled path that led deeper into the dark recess of the forest.

Pulling up next to the stallion and looking up at her he said, “Overseer, heard you had a beast problem.”

She nodded and said, “Seneschal, yes we do but take a look at that path and see if you can tell me what the problem actually is…”

Casting an irritated look at her he swung down from his horse he studied the smashed undergrowth and immediately saw what she meant. “This leads out of the forest, so how do you have missing beasts?”

“Ay, that’s the trouble with it.” Pointing where the riders were still working she said, “Half that herd’s not ours. One of my riders spotted the sign and assumed, as you would, that one of our herds had been taken because why would the Orucs give us their beasts?”

Corvus said, “That is a very good question. Do you have a horse that could carry me fully armoured? This poor old nag would have a heart attack if I tried.”

Patting the horse she sat on she said, “Sure, Hend here’ll do that for you. Ex-guards horse, mostly out here as breeding stock. We breed the finest horses for the guard on this site. I guess your armour is back at the farm?”

Touching his badge he said, “Nope.”

The Overseer snorted a laugh and said, “Oh. Well that’s handy.”

Swinging down she handed him the reins.

Taking them he said, “If I’m not back by dark send a rider to one of the watchers and let Valard know.”

He swung up and urging the huge horse between the trees they started following the trampled path.

Hend was tossing his head and prancing about, seemed like he was enjoying the weight of an armoured man on his back. Corvus almost pitied anyone if they attacked him while he was mounted, a well-trained warhorse was as much a weapon as his sword.

Dappled shadows and rearing tangled bramble patches hid the deepest recesses of the forest from view. Corvus wasn’t worried though, apart from Valard and any of his brethren who were visiting he was certain he was the most dangerous thing in these lands.

After a while he could see a gap in the trees and brambles ahead. Almost blinding, brilliant sunlight lit him with a golden glow as the horse stepped out into a fenced clearing of well cropped but healthy grass, the long poles of the fence had been dropped to make the gap he entered through.

On a small rise nearby he could see half a dozen hide tents overlooking the clearing.

Dismounting and leading his horse he approached the camp carefully and walked through it slowly, finding no one.

At the centre he crouched and checked the ashes in the fire-pit, cold and dead for days.

A rough voice behind him said, “You have nothing to fear here Fae man, my tribe are all dead and gone.”

Startled he spun around and his sword rasped free of it’s scabbard, igniting with crackling lightning. Standing between two of the tents he saw an Oruc Fae man, huge, green-skinned, and muscular who looked, weary… broken.

Keeping his sword ready he asked suspiciously, “What do you mean?”

The Oruc Fae sighed and wearily said, “Something came six nights past, something cold and malevolent. It killed all of my people in their sleep, strangled. I am a Shaman and by long habit sleep within a dreaming circle and that saved me from the same fate. Whatever type of spirit or creature it was many I have known for countless winters who fled the plateau with me ahead of a Fae Hunt are gone, dead and buried. I await the same but there are none left to bury me.” Looking at Corvus he said, “Unless I miss my guess you are here about the beasts, I gifted my tribe’s herd to your farm because they were good beasts and would not be happy or do well living wild.”

Corvus said, “I would assume you and your tribe held no love for the Fae Chanar?”

“None, Fae man. They are a blight on this world, the spirits have long said we should oppose them in all ways but many Oruc Fae bend the knee. Finding a soft life on their knees preferable to a short and bloody one when the hunt is called. We did not bend and managed to escape the hunt,” he snorted wryly, “only to fall to whatever this was. We were at least happy here for the time we had and most importantly, free.”

Corvus asked, “Are you truly set on dying?”

The Shaman shrugged and gestured to the camp, “What else is there for me? If I return to the plateau I will merely trigger another hunt because I will never bow.”

Sheathing his sword Corvus said, “To the North there is a Witch of the tribes and a Goblin at a small abandoned farm. We seek to break the Fae Chanar, we would welcome your aid. You say you are already dead, so what do you have to lose? Honestly I expect death to find us all along this path, all I hope is we take the Fae Chanar with us.”

“You speak easily of a task the Gods may find difficult, the Fae Chanar have ruled with an iron fist for as long as the memories of the Oruc Fae Shaman, and that is long. I have seen a thousand winters myself and I am not an Elder. What makes you think you stand a chance?”

‘The Witch and her Goblin have already slain one of the High Fae. Though young this Witch has the taste of true power around her, she feels potent.”

Stroking the heavy braid which hung from his chin, the Shaman said, “I know the tales and I know they hold some truth for the spirits have told me so. Hrrmph, leave me, I wish to consult with the spirits and think on your words… errm leave me, please.”

Corvus smirked, “I will do as you… ask. If your choice is for life and conflict I will see you at the farm. If you choose to join your loved ones, I was pleased to know you however briefly and will remember you. If I do not see you at the farm I will return here to bury you with them.”

Nodding and already distracted by thought the Shaman said, “Thank you. Spirits guide you.”

Corvus turned and mounting his horse walked slowly back toward the trees, turning just before he entered the gloom he raised a hand to the Shaman. Receiving no response he headed off to return the horse and go back to the tower. He just hoped the Shaman would choose life, he and the spirits would be valuable allies in the conflict to come.