36. The Battle of Vellar
The Battle of Vellar
Fourteen Years Earlier
Eiser
“Your Highness, we’ve rounded them up where you asked.”
I turn to look at the no name soldier, “and the ragroot?” I ask.
His lips thin into a flat line as he dips his head down in deference to me, “they’ve all received a dose.” Good . I think.
“Thank you…” I wave my hands around for him to fill in the space with his name.
“Percy, sir.”
I give him a nod, “thank you, Percy.” He stands there waiting for a dismissal. I give the signal with my hand as I leave the room and disappear down the corridor. My halls are filled with boisterous servants and soldiers finishing up whatever menial tasks they have left before going off to sleep, drink, fuck, or whatever it is my peasants and lower level citizens do in their spare time.
Dust makes my nose itch as I walk up the steep stairs to my son’s lessons room. SMACK! “Stupid boy!”
“Pl-please. I ca-can’t.” OOF! He crumples to the floor on his side as I enter into the room, the priest’s foot still raised and aimed for a second kick at the boy.
“You must be cleansed! Tainted, broken, cursed brat. Unfit to be king—”
I catch the wrist of the priest in my hand, stopping the next hit from landing. “Alright, Brighton. I need a moment with my son.”
His face heats as he sputters, “but, but Sire.”
“Out.” I command, waiting for him to slink out of the room and leave us.
Rorin looks up at me, the back of his hand wiping away the blood trickling from his mouth. I crouch down, taking his busted chin in between my fingers. He tries to yank it from my grip. “Look at me, boy.”
His eyes squeeze shut, refusing me, and I jerk his chin towards me again digging my thumb into where it’s split. “ AH! ” He yelps. “What do you want?” His words come out in a snarl, but the undertone to them is filled with defeat.
“I have a job for you.” I tell him, I let go of his chin and he falls back onto his elbows, wincing at the impact.
Slowly he stands himself up. His skin and clothes are torn. I can’t remember when I sent him up here maybe…five days ago? Who can keep track these days. “A-a job?” He stutters.
I dust my hands off, checking my skin for any evidence of his blood. “For you. For your Wield.” His eyes widen at the last word. “Do you want to make me proud?”
He limped the whole way, slowing us down, and annoying me greatly. “You-you said that you had a job for my Wield?” He mumbles.
“Rorin, I can’t understand you when you mumble. Speak up!” I snap.
“You said that you have a job for my Wield?” He says more clearly this time .
I look over my shoulder at him. “Yes, I need you to take care of a problem for me.” His brows are drawn tightly together, confusion clear in his eyes as he waits to see what that problem is. I bring him down through the lower courtyard. The light is already gone from the day, the night only growing darker under the cover of the trees.
My soldiers are barricaded around the encampment that holds the problem I’m having Rorin take care of for me. I stop him from going any further and walk up to the group alone. The soldiers part letting me through. In the center of the camp there is a group of bound individuals.
They’re line up in rows, making it a little easier for me to search for one specific individual. I catch sight of him slumped over and wave over a healer mage, commanding her to heal the ragroot out of his system. He stirs, drowsily at first, until he realizes he’s bound with a gag in his mouth. His eerie brass-colored eyes widen at me in both betrayal and disbelief. I laugh, stepping back as I loose my Wield out over the group of Obsidian soldiers. It ripples over every drugged man and woman - all but one of them unaware of what’s going to happen. Their bodies slowly Illusion into looking like a rebel faction, concealing their true identities.
I motion for a soldier to retrieve Rorin and bring him to me.
“Son,” the word leaving a bad taste on my tongue, “I thought we had taken care of our rebel problem, with the Obsids’ generous help. But as luck would have it there was a rebel faction still alive and well. Devastatingly they snuck into the Obsids’ camp and killed them, all of them.” I watch for his reaction, his eyes widening just a bit as he processes the words. “I only just found out.” The lie rolls smoothly off of my tongue, Rorin taking it all as he stares out at the second row of Vellaran soldiers concealing our guests.
His throat bobs and he swallows nervously, “so wh-what do you need me for?”
I smile, clasping his shoulder tightly. “Vellar doesn’t manifest offensive magic. It makes things to where we need men - like the Obsids - to come and assist us from time to time. But you —” I look down at his dirtied face, eyes filled with fear. “You have a unique Wield.” I give the signal for the soldiers to part, revealing to Rorin what lies behind them.
His mouth gapes, “you found the rebel faction?” He asks quietly. I nod going along with my lie. “F-father, what are you asking me to do.”
My smile grows as I meet the eyes of the Illusioned Obsidian King - Killian - making sure he hears me when I answer Rorin.
“I need you to poison them all.”