Chương 352: 7.8

It took them two more days to reach the next fortified city. Partly because of the delay in seeing to the rites of the dead, burning and honoring to mercury for those that could not be identified as local to the villages. But more so because the entire village and all of its livestock and grain stores insisted on joining the Rapidly growing Caravan trailing Jewel's party.

The showing of her defense of them against the horrors that had come that night and the word of the High King himself welcoming her was enough for them. Jewel could not fault the choice. Nor could she in good conscience command them to stay. So their journey to the Fortress of Vladimirescu in Orad was one full day and a half of marching. With the people huddled next to the heart of the encampment with the trade caravans and other cargo.

The amount of available hours dwindled as the preparation for the camp went from the relatively light watch called for in a land amiable to their presence to a full defensive footing. Muriel's commands rallying not just Jewel's own men but that of all the guard, mercenary and even an impromptu levy of the surviving villagers. It was technically an usurpation of the local lord's rights to this village. But Jewel was not going to leave these people defenseless to the horrors that had beset them.

Even if that meant rallying peasants into night watches alongside her own forces in a foreign land. If there was an insult to honor she would deal with that with the Lord of Orad. After she arrived with the people, animals and crops that would have surely been slaughtered without her. Her impression of Vladimirescu as they approached was disappointing. It was a fortress, of a small fashion but its foundations were clearly not of any work by Old Cantor.

There was none of the solidness of whole shaped stone called by sorcery that she had grown familiar with in Viznove and beyond. Neither the fortress itself on a hill nor the walls it joined surrounding the small town. A place Jewel would normally not even consider calling a city if not for the word of the locals. They marched at an even pace, approaching Orad with caution. Erhard had been convinced to send one of his armoured halberdiers as herald and vanguard for Jewel. Faster and more tireless than a horse.

And the one most likely to survive if there turned out to be no shelter for them in the 'city'. Jewel hoped that there would be safety here for the few hundred peasants with her. But she was not certain. The fields surrounding the city were still littered with corpses. Most of them the dessicated forms of men still in armor. But also the naked vampires as well. She could feel the lingering shadow of their hunger even after the bodies had gone stiff with a final death.

More strange was the sundered wings and scattered bodies of what jewel could only imagine were Gryphons? But strange gryphons, most barely the size of a man. Some even smaller! Like fledgelings but with full and mature feathers! Hardly suitable for riding, but in such numbers! Over a hundred of them by the count of limbs at least! Intermingled with the other bodies. All dead. Those heads and necks intact enough showed strange collars of woven cloth, beads and leather. Some had studs of metal and ornaments.

Others had bracelets at their fore and hind talons. Adding color to the wrists and ankles. The wounds on the 'Vampyres' showed that among them some of the slain had been brought down by cuts tearing open the chest to reach the heart. Others among the monsters had obviously been felled from the desiccated husks that still gripped the spears that had pierced them. But every body but the Vampires and the Gryphons were dried and empty. There was no scent of blood but that of beasts in the air.

The strangeness of that alone made the battlefield eerie and unreal. Had no one come out to clear the corpses? Has no one dared? Was there anyone left alive to do so? That was the most vital reason one of the Halberdiers was sent. If the city was taken by Wallachia it was the only messenger Jewel could be sure had a chance to escape. She hoped otherwise. There was smoke from the hearths of Orad at least, there were flags with heraldry raised, foreign ones Jewel did not recognize.

Unclear if it was that of the Magarskan lord she expected to meet or some monstrous thing beneath the command of Count Tepes. There were signs of life as they approached. But as they grew closer to the sealed gates Jewel began to worry. Until finally while they were still half an hour walk away she saw them part.

And out of them came a familiar figure of one of Erhard's Armours, jogging easily to keep pace with the trotting horse of what Jewel could only surmise was the lord of this city, although she still could not say if he was Magarskan or Wallachian. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Only that he was alive and breathing. He was dressed in full armor of woven chains with plates fashioned over it.

His horse further armoured in a great many interlinking pieces of steel. Shining in the afternoon sun. He rode out to meet Jewel at the head of her caravan alone but for the escort of Erhard's halberdier. Stinking of weariness, sweat, spilled blood and a resigned fear that reminded Jewel deeply of her Father in preparation for Jewel's first war. Before She could offer any greeting he pulled up to a stop before her, just shy of where her jaws could reach with neck fully extended.

Then he spoke in a weary tone in the court language of Magarska.

"Shining Doom of Viznove, Countess Wyrm Jewel, I am Móric, Lord General of Vladimirescu and entrusted keeper of Orad. The night was long in fighting so I plead with you, speak plainly to me!" Jewel dipped her head in acknowledgement, it was an honorable enough greeting although the title was a strange one. It was ominous to be called a doom. Before she could offer reply and condolences for his struggle he was already speaking.

"Are you here to conquer us with your army? If so I offer the city's surrender on the condition that you are gentle with its people who-" Jewel interrupted the man, speaking over him as only her voice could. Drowning him out less in volume than sheer quantity of voice flowing from her lips and throat.

"Lord General! I am here to do nothing of the sort! We sent word three days ago by a local rider that we had been waylaid in an attack of Wallachian horrors in Hopsfield! They should have arrived in less than a day at the pace the horse was going!" The man stared at her, the exhaustion in his eyes under his metal helm mingled with regret.

"Anyone outside our walls after sundown the last three nights died screaming, If there was a rider we never even saw sight of them. Countess, we have been beset by vampires! When we saw your army on the road today with the flags of the Northern Realm and Viznove we were sure you were in league with them!" He practically spat her county's name with the vehemence. Jewel for her part let out a billowing sigh of shame and horror that apparently one of the general's own countrymen perished as a messenger!

The Wallachians had gone mad! You did not slay messengers! She ignored the vitriol against her homeland looking down at the armoured man standing at attention beside the lord.

"I sent a herald and vanguard to announce my arrival and intentions this morning..." The general turned to look down at the soldier then back at Jewel. The dust of the road settled in the silence that had descended from even the hint of her displeasure, the poor overtaxed lord was stiff on his horse and sopping in terror sweat. She focused on the moment, on the assurances. It had not been one of her own, one of the village headman's sons? A life wasted trying to send word to the fortress.

Should Jewel have insisted he stay with them? Had the rider that went north met a similar fate? Too many unknowns, but she had already shepherded an entire village to this city and 'safety'. It was not her place to avenge the messenger. Finally the Lord General showed his bravery in speaking despite his terror.

"You sent a soldier in full djinn steel armour who leapt onto our battlements from the gate and then spoke all of five words of the court's tongue to me while I was overseeing the losses from this evening." Jewel heaved another heavy sigh and dipped her head lower than was strictly required of her station.

"My sincere apologies to you Lord General Móric, but apparently I have caused you great fear for no other reason than a subordinate's incompetence. Allow me to announce myself and my intentions properly." She raised her neck up, ruffled her wings and then shifted her shoulders to try and embody as much grace and poise as was possible given the dust on her scales from several days of marching on dry roads.

"I am the Shining Wyrm and Countess of Viznove, And I come to your city with the people of Hopsfield weary and strained by the horrors of the Vampires. I offer my aid to you and your city in this trial and hope it can be accepted with what hospitality you can spare before I and my party and assorted..." She glanced at the extensive camp followers she'd accumulated, raising her neck high to see the extensive haphazard line it filled the road with."

Entourage, travel further south towards the Capital of Magarska and a meeting with the High King. I am here on a journey for peace between our realms. And with the authority of the High King Mathias entrusted to me I can assure you I am not here to conquer yours nor any other Magarskan city." Jewel dipped her head again to the General, hoping it helped sooth his terror. The look he was giving Jewel and the dozen of Erhard's Halberdiers matched his scent of incredulity.

"You fought the monsters three days ago? my condolences for your losses. Even with yourself, the Shining Doom and these Djinn Armors to slay them you must have suffered... Especially without Griff support." Jewel nodded.

"We lost dozens from my own men, and hundreds among the travelers and villagers." The general scoffed.

"Then it was not a large attack, we've traded three men or two griffs for every one of the fiends we've slain." He seemed to be considering Jewel's scales, her coils, the spread of her wings, the length of her neck, her snout.

"I'd guess you had fifty of the vampires?" Jewel shook her head.

"I can't say to the final count slain, as naught but ash remained of most. But by the damage done and the presence of them in the woods we were assaulted by at least five hundred of the horrors in the attack." Jewel had in her life grown quite accustomed to people not believing her, not believing she could properly speak or think, even sometimes not believing she was as dangerous as she was. Not believing she could hear or see or smell what she did.

She knew well the signs of a man struggling to accept what he was told, but if his words were anything to go on she did not have time to force the laborious process of changing his mind on the matter. So she simply did what she had found worked best when meeting a new person full of disbelief.

"Now, by your own word we must make haste there is an entire village of animals, grain and people to make secure before nightfall Lord General." She started moving and forced them to keep up with her.

"If you would ride ahead to clarify the matter that I am not conquering Orad?" Which seemed to be enough to get the man to wheel his horse around and kick it into a trot back to the city. She would politely ignore the muttered curses under his breath. Especially the last words she caught before he pulled out of ear shot." Not conquering the city? On my mother's ass!"