Valor and Violence

Ferez dismounted onto the clearing floor, shaking the feeling back into his frozen hands. He was rugged up in a thick cloak Leo had generously provided for the trip, but even so, the high altitude air had been brutal.

“Bit cold there, mate?” Leo asked, jumping down beside him.

“A tad. Although it’s nowhere near as painful as last time.”

“When you were butt fuck naked? Yeah, I could imagine,” Leo said, laughing. He turned and began unloading their equipment from Windshear’s back.

“What do we do now?”

Leo undid the final strap, the crate containing their tent and food falling to the frozen ground. “Set up camp, do some covert reconnaissance of Ingrid’s town, and wait for Leanne and Asim to arrive.”

“Ah, so that’s why we brought the griffon.”

“That and I haven’t taken Windy for a good jaunt in far too long. He needs regular exercise these days, or he stiffens up.”

The massive beast trilled as Leo scratched under his chin. It still looked every inch the brutal predator Ferez remembered, but on closer inspection, the signs of age were starting to show. The feathers nearest his beak had turned silver, almost indistinguishable from the youthful white covering the rest of his head. They were turning threadbare too, the grey skin beneath showing through in patches, and the beak and talons, once a glossy, vibrant orange, had turned matte and faded. The colossal hybrid settled onto the ground, curling its head under its wing to sleep.

“How long do griffons live for, anyway?”

“I dunno, a pretty long while. But he might not have many summers left, hey old buddy?”

Windshear let out a huff.

“I swear he understands Common. It’s like he knows exactly what I’m saying.”

“If so, he’s fairly calm about his impending mortality.”

“He’s had a good run, and he knows it,” Leo said with a shrug. “We’ve been together a long time. I’m just happy for every extra day I get with him. Anyway, should we start our little covert investigation?”

Windshear huffed again.

“What? No! There’s no way!” Leo said.

“Oh, so you speak griffon, now?”

“We have a bond.”

“Right. What did he say?”

“That they’re already here? But that- ah, shit.”

Leo backed up towards Ferez as a gang of Skjar raiders materialised out of the frozen forest. They were clad in thick armour and brandished steel axes, the metalwork covered in intricate swirling designs.

Hauskarls.

Ferez summoned fire to his hands and Leo melted the snow at their feet, the newly formed water flowing up over his shoulders and snaking down his arms to form hard ice claws over his fingers. The northern warriors spread out, encircling them with weapons at the ready.

“Reckon they’re friendly?” Leo asked.

“When have Skjar ever been known for being ‘friendly’?”

The warriors tensed, ready to charge, when a shrill whistle broke the silence. The Hauskarls relaxed, though they maintained their positions surrounding the mages.

“Because of course it was just you two idiots.”

The speaker’s voice made the ice stalactites hanging from the trees look warm and soft and Ferez felt every fibre of his body tense, at the complete and utter mercy of a deluge of competing emotions as a figure stalked out of the forest. She was far more terrifying than any of the raiders hemming them in.

Ingrid Luftfaust, one of the most powerful, and certainly the most dangerous, wind mage alive. She had changed little compared to the woman in Ferez’s dreams. There were deep lines at the corners of her ice-blue eyes now, and a cross shaped scar on her left cheek that pulled her already harsh expression into a vicious grimace. But her glare was as piercing as ever, and her lips were still thin, harsh, and alluring. She was every bit as beautiful as when he last saw her.

He met her gaze and her features twisted further into an expression just a smidge below unrestrained fury. It was an expression he had seen many times before. He had also seen her face when she was asleep, the only time she was truly untroubled and at ease, and he had seen her the precious few times she had laughed, free and without airs. He knew all her expressions, and so he knew she was putting on her ‘off the shelf angry face’ for when she needed to look pissed as the Pit but, for whatever reason, couldn’t quite summon the emotion.

“Hello, Ingrid. It’s been a while,” Ferez said, his lips pulling into a broad smile, completely independent of any conscious thought.

“Eighty-three years.”

Ferez’s eyebrows rose and Leo scoffed.

“Looks like someone regrets the breakup,” the water mage whispered in a singsong voice.

“Shut up, oaf. Or next time I’ll send someone who can actually get the job done,” Ingrid said.

“Oh, please. You expect me to believe that wasn’t a legitimate attempt on my life?”

“None of them were. You’ve been an expedient way of getting rid of the chaff I can’t kill myself because of political reasons.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve been using me as your executioner?”

“Of course. I assumed you would have figured that out?”

“No! I thought you were trying to have me killed!”

“Leo, if I wanted to kill you, I would do it myself. Most likely slowly, and painfully. You didn’t think it odd that my ‘assassins’ have been coming after you, unsuccessfully, for over twenty years?”

“I just thought I was that good,” Leo mumbled.

“Gods, I’d hoped I’d never see you again,” she said, massaging her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “And you,” she said to Ferez. He waited expectantly as her eye twitched, her brain sorting through her thoughts to decide what to say after so long apart. “Follow me. We’ll get you settled in the town, and you can tell me what you want,” she said finally, turning toward the settlement.

Not the apology and confession of undying love he had hoped for.

“Why does everyone assume I want something?” Ferez asked, throwing his hands in the air. Ingrid stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

“Eighty-three years ago, I broke your heart, and never heard from you again. For you to be here now, it must be serious.”

Ferez dropped his hands to his side, as an unhelpful rebuke rose in his throat. He swallowed it back down.

“You say that like it’s my fault,” he said after a moment, though his tone lacked punch.

“Of course not,” Ingrid replied, not bothering to turn as she walked away.

Leo sidled up next to Ferez, leaned in close to his ear, and waited. Ferez grit his teeth, the dipshit was just waiting for him to say something so he could interrupt with his stupid bullshit.

“Hey. Ferez,” Leo said.

Just ignore him.

“Fereeeeez, buddy.”

Don’t give him the satisfaction!

“Telrus to Fereeeeeeez.”

“What!”

“Awkwaaard!” Leo sang in a high pitch.

“Gods, I hate you,” Ferez said, stamping off after Ingrid, the hauskarls falling in behind them. They traipsed in tense silence through the snow and trees. Well, Ferez and Ingrid did anyway. Leo was practically bouncing on his toes and humming a tune until finally they came to the town.

It sat in the middle of a vast, deforested field with high stone walls surrounding and obscuring the buildings within. Plumes of smoke drifted lazily from inside, the smell of burning wood and cooking meats sharpened by the cold air. Ferez and Leo’s stomachs growled in unison.

“I hope there’s a feast like last time,” Leo said as they passed through the gateway and into a cramped maze of narrow streets and snow encrusted log houses.

“We almost died at the last one,” Ferez replied.

“Sure, but it was still a lot of fun!”

“Was it? Really?”

“Well, afterwards it was. That lass I’d been chatting up came and found me while the snow was settling, and we… stirred it back up again. If you catch my drift. Double pun!” Leo threw out a quick jab-cross as he laughed at his own joke.

“So that’s where you were while Ingrid was tearing my heart out of my chest?”

Leo sighed and patted Ferez on the shoulder.

“Of course not. This was just after you got patched up, while you were digging survivors out of the rubble.”

“Leo, do you ever wonder why so many people want you dead?”

“No, why?”

“Just curious. I wasn’t sure if your lack of self-awareness was because of wilfulness or stupidity. But I guess I have my answer.”

“I’m glad I could help clear that up for you.”

They passed the next couple of minutes in silence as they walked further in. The locals stared at them as they passed, some focussing on Leo, some on Ferez. But most stared at Ingrid with a mix of awe and apprehension, and Ferez wondered what life was like here.

Ingrid was a harsh person. She didn’t suffer fools, and her temper was explosive. But the settlement was prospering under her rule. Not only had it expanded, but everything seemed… nice. The people were healthy and well fed, children laughed in the streets as they scrapped with wooden swords and axes, and the buildings were all well maintained. All in all, it seemed remarkably quaint, considering its overlord was the only person on the face of the planet Ferez feared.

Finally, they arrived at a large square in the centre of the town. The old Jarl’s longhouse had been rebuilt since the battle with Fahroul, and stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by curious stone tiling. It wasn’t manufactured from homogenous stone, but appeared to be a type of rough aggregate. Its purpose became apparent when Ferez stepped onto it and found his footing to be firmer here than anywhere else in the town.

“What a strange material,” Leo remarked from beside him.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Ingenious though, really. There must be a lot of foot traffic in and out of the longhouse. If it was left unpaved, the entire area would become a sloppy quagmire.”

“But you couldn’t use smooth tiles or cobblestones, the ice would make it too slick,” Leo added. “This rough surface feels like my boots are stuck to it though, despite all the melted snow and gunk!”

Ingrid loudly clearing her throat brought the men’s attention back to the present.

“If you two idiots are quite done, it seems someone wants to meet you.”

Ferez looked up and realised that a small posse of armed and armoured warriors waited outside the longhouse. The figure at their head was a giant, clad in gleaming steel from head to toe, the expensive blued metal covered in a dense network of intricate, etched swirls.

“The Jarlessa of Jarls returns with her quarry in hand already! But should we be surprised? I think not,” the armoured man said, his voice booming from within his helmet.

“How many times have I told you, Reichblut? Flattery won’t get me into bed. Is there a reason I find you blocking the entrance to my longhouse?”

Reichblut bowed his head.

“We are not stopping you, Jarlessa. We are merely here to show support for your hunt.”

“In that case, you can fuck right off, kid. It was a false alarm.”

“I see two prisoners there, though, don’t I?”

Reichblut waved a hand in Ferez’s general direction, and the mage was seized with the urge to rip it off.

“We’re not prisoners,” he said, his fingers twitching as Talent pooled instinctively in his arms.

“You dare speak to me, worm?”

“I’ll do more than just speak if you keep this up.”

“Enough! Both of you!” Ingrid snapped. “Ferez, I know you struggle with this, but please try to engage your higher brain functions before picking fights while in my town. And Reichblut, if you speak to my guests that way again, I’ll rip that venomous tongue from your head.”

The giant took an involuntary step back, his helmeted gaze flicking between Ingrid and Ferez.

“Wait… it’s you,” he said, walking towards Ferez. Fire burst into life around the mage’s fist, prepared to roast the upstart, but before he could unleash an attack, Ingrid flung her hands out, and with a blast of air that sprayed dirty sludge in an enormous cone behind her, propelled herself at the other Skjar. He had a split second to recoil in horror, before her heel smashed against the side of his helmet, dropping him to the coarse ground.

“An insult to my guest is an insult to me. Get the fuck out of my sight before you jeopardise your family’s position in my court further.”

She stood, glaring down at the motionless form on the ground for a few seconds before she sighed, running her hand through her fringe.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, he’s unconscious. You lot,” she said, gesturing to the rest of his posse. “Get him back to his lodgings before he freezes to death.”

The assembled warriors scrambled to do her bidding, looking for all the world like a crowd of scolded children, not hardened, vicious raiders. When they were safely out of the square, carrying their charge to wherever they were staying, Ingrid finally crossed the threshold into her home, beckoning the other two to follow her.

*

“So, in summary, you flew from one side of the Continent to the other to see me, for the first time in over eighty years, to ask me to send Skjar to war with a pirate king to rescue a single slave girl because she has Talent?”

“That depends. Would you be more or less inclined to help if I said this was all a cunning ruse to see you one more time?”

“You aren’t half as charming as you think you are.”

“That’s still pretty damn charming.”

Ingrid scoffed, but the barest hint of a smile played at her lips. She hastily covered it by taking a long draught from her mead horn. She let out a contented sigh when the vessel was empty, dropping it back in its holder and motioning for an attendant to refill it. A young girl materialised at her side with a harried expression and a pitcher.

“Even if I want to help, I can’t do what you’re asking of me. The clans don’t march to war on my word.”

“But you’re the Jarlessa of Jarls, right?”

Ingrid scowled, though on her face it looked more like a snarl.

“A quaint title, but not much else besides. Basically, it means everyone stopped fucking with me and started trying to fuck me instead.”

“Hmmm, interesting, I see, I see,” Leo said, momentarily forgetting about the roasted turkey leg in his hand. “How exactly does one go about acquiring this problem? Asking for a friend.”

“You know, I’d be more inclined to help if you hadn’t brought this dickhead along,” Ingrid said, casting a scowl in the privateer’s direction.

“It couldn’t be helped. I don’t have a griffon of my own,” Ferez said, ignoring the hurt ‘hey!’ from Leo. “And is that why that little shit out front was waiting to lick your boots?”

Ingrid pulled a sour face.

“His father is Jarl Wogenreiter. He leads a small but powerful coalition of coastal clans. They control the southern coast, the only part of the sea border that doesn’t ice over in the winter. He sent his son here as a ‘diplomat’, which in Skjar politics more or less means a walking penis with an attached clan name.”

“You must have mellowed with age, Ingrid. I’m surprised you haven’t just killed the boy and been done with it.”

“Would that I could. I even tried to send him after Leo a little while ago, but the turd doesn’t lift a finger if he can avoid it.”

There was another ‘hey!’ from Leo, this one mildly outraged, but the other mages ignored him again, focussed instead as they were on each other. At first, Ferez stared because he was trying to think of a persuasive argument, but that train of thought quickly dissipated and he kept staring simply for the joy of it. He didn’t even realise Ingrid was staring back at him until her eyes widened slightly and she coughed, a red tint growing on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ferez. I wish I could help you.”

“Is there nothing you can do?” Ferez asked, softly. It was a bit of a low blow, but his tone worked. He could see Ingrid wrestling with her thoughts and emotions, just below the surface. Finally, she looked him in the eyes again.

“My clan can fight, but we don’t have the numbers you need. The only other thing I can do is call a Jarlsmeet.”

“Wass tha’?” Leo asked with a mouthful of roast bird.

“I’ll put the word out. Any Jarl that wants to can come or send a representative. It’ll give you an opportunity to make your case, though if anyone wants to follow you to war, it’s their call. I can’t force them.”

“Will many come?”

“Oh, plenty. But mostly for the chance to make a pass at me, I’m not sure if any will seriously consider your proposal.”

Ferez tried to ignore the viper that suddenly twisted in his gut and opened his mouth to say something like ‘that isn’t necessary,’ or ‘if they come, I’ll kill them myself,’ but Leo beat him to the punch.

“That sounds like a great idea!” he shouted, a chunk of half chewed meat falling out of his mouth. “Ferez gets his army, and Ingrid gets laid. Win-win!”

“Leo!” they both growled at the same time.

“Although it is odd, right? That you aren’t married? No doubt there’s been plenty of suitors over the years.”

Ingrid harrumphed.

“None of them were worthy of my time,” she said, as she picked up her horn and guzzled the contents.

“Not worthy compared to Ferez, you mean?”

Ingrid choked on her mead, spraying the golden liquid over the table. In between fits of racking coughs, she swore murder at Leo, who laughed so hard he toppled off his seat. The poor serving girl dithered a few paces away with a cloth, unsure whether staying put or approaching to clean would put her in more physical danger. Ferez sat mute through it all, his cheeks burning. Just a bit.

That couldn’t be the reason, could it?

There was no way. It had been eighty-three years! Ingrid wouldn’t still be burning a candle for him. Not enough to turn down viable suitors, at least. She hadn’t tried to contact or see him in all that time, she had been too busy building her little empire in the frozen north. She couldn’t have been waiting, could she?

The sound of chair legs scraping across the floor snapped Ferez from his thoughts and he looked up to see Leo sprinting from the building, still cackling like a maniac, while Ingrid flew after him, hurling wind blades at his retreating back.

Ferez groaned and stood, feeling the ground reel a bit as the mead hit him all at once.

Get it together.

He slapped his cheeks and forced himself to follow, one unsteady foot after the other. If he let Ingrid murder Leo, his little alliance would be dead in the water, so to speak. He couldn’t deny that it was an attractive thought, though.