Here’s my newest major writing endeavor. I don’t have any high hopes of ever getting it published—I just like writing. This is a Medieval-ish piece, so sorry if that’s not your cup of tea.

This piece is a pre-cursor to this piece, which occurs after Caelum has recruited a few other kindred souls (although we only see one of them in that piece).

The smells of fish and saltwater filled the air. Clanks of armor accented the unusually somber marketplace sounds: merchants advertising the freshest fish and the finest crafts, customers haggling for the best prices, birds squawking and fighting over scraps of food abandoned on the ground, all sounding over the steady crashing of waves against a quiet beach.

Thus was Marrbank. Marrbank was a small fishing village that soon found itself a minor port as well, being the closest town to the Sederan Empire. Naturally, when the Sederan Empire decided to forcibly expand into southern lands, Marrbank was the first town to be sacked. Feeding and housing the steady stream of soldiers soon became the town’s biggest industry, although not a very profitable one.

A pair of armored soldier clanked down the crowded street. Others had walked quietly, simply patrolling, but this pair shot intimidating glances at citizens, looking for trouble. The citizens regarded them cautiously, careful not to stare or give any reason for provocation.

Caelum Deleon was careful to duck into a merchant tent as the two soldiers walked past. The shield and sword on his back had already attracted a few unwelcome stares, and his black leather brigandine attracted a few more from those who looked closely enough at it to recognize it. After the two had walked past, he returned to the street and walked in the opposite direction.

He walked down to the end of the marketplace and into the heart of town, where the taverns and inns were. The crowd in the street had thinned out outside of the marketplace, and fewer people were talking. He felt each stare as people passed and was careful to keep his eyes either straight ahead or on the ground to avoid drawing more attention to himself than he had to.

He veered left at an intersection, heading toward the Scarlet Harlot, a tavern he had visited the day before. From down the road, he heard the patrons laughing and swapping stories as they did at all hours of the day. Upon arriving, he saw a group of soldiers inside, laughing heartily over drinks. Caelum walked past the door as nonchalantly as he could.

The buildings grew smaller on the outskirts of town, some being replaced by tents. The occasional child would run by, giggling, and he passed a few adults carrying food, but the streets had thinned out considerably. Content that he was less likely to be noticed, Caelum began peering down alleyways and into open buildings. It didn’t help that he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for.

He soon entered the residential section of town. The streets were almost abandoned, since most people were in other parts of town working or sleeping off a hard night at the tavern. He turned a corner and saw a pair of soldiers in a back alley holding a teenage boy at swordpoint. Their backs were facing Caelum. He immediately stepped back behind the corner he had just turned and listened the best he could.

“…And do boys like you always carry such rich pouches of coin in this town?” one of the soldiers asked.

“It’s my father’s. I was going to the marketpla—”

“What do you think, Bennet?” asked the other soldier.

“Do boys like you always spend the day running errands for their fathers instead of working?” asked Bennet.

“I—” the kid made a few desperate attempts at words, but failed to get a whole one out.

“Look, kid, we know this isn’t yours,” said the other soldier.

“We know you stole it,” said Bennet. The kid said nothing.

“We’re going to have to liberate this from you,” said the other soldier.

“And you know what happens to thieves,” Bennet said patronizingly.

“No! I— I— I can return it!”

Caelum took his shield off of his back and strapped it onto his left arm. He crept quietly toward the soldiers.

Bennet grabbed the kid’s arm and the other soldier raised his sword. Caelum was just outside of the alley at this point and sprinted in, bashing his shield into the soldier with sword raised. Bennet spun around just as Caelum swung his shield and struck the side of his head, instantly sending him to the ground.

The second soldier had recovered at that point and took off after Caelum, who had turned and sprinted back the way he came. Bennet wasn’t far behind him.

Caelum ran down back alleys and across streets, trying to lose the two soldiers. He was entering a more populated part of town, and the commotion made everyone stop and stare.

He turned a corner onto a busy lane. Citizens, merchants, and travelers walked about everywhere. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because almost immediately, a gloved hand reached around his head and pulled him sideways into a smaller alleyway. Within another instant, he was inside a door. He heard the clank of armor as the guards ran past the alleyway just before the door closed quietly.

“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked a woman.

Caelum’s hand was on the hilt of his sword, but hadn’t yet pulled it out. “Who are you?” he asked.

“No, I’m asking the questions here,” the woman declared.

The room was dark, but Caelum’s eyes had adjusted enough to make out a tall, thin but muscular woman with short hair that stuck out at odd angles. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips. He noticed two daggers attached to her belt, still in their sheaths. He relaxed his grip on his sword.

“Alright,” he said, “what do you want to know?”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Caelum Deleon,” he responded.

“And what brings you to Marrbank?”

“Just travelling through.”

“Where are you heading?”

“I’m just travelling.”

She shook her head. “Bullshit. I saw you earlier, peeking your head down side streets like an idiot, studying the locals. You’re looking for something, and you wouldn’t bother the soldiers unless they had something to do with it.”

Caelum sighed. “If you must know,” he said, “I heard that there was a rebel group around here.”

“Alright, now we’re getting somewhere.” The woman cocked her head and studied Caelum for a few seconds. “Why are you seeking out a rebel group?”

“Because I’d like to join,” Caelum replied earnestly.

“Why?”

Caelum silently wondered how long this interrogation would take. “Sedera took my home from me. I want to take it back.”

“Well, you should know we’re about the re-instatement of Verris.”

She said “we,” which meant that Caelum had found exactly whom he was looking for.

“I too want to see Verris re-instated,” he boasted. The woman nodded slowly. Caelum chanced a question. “What’s your name?”

“Mielle,” she answered. “Mielle Harpswell. I’m with the Faithful Flame.”

Caelum didn’t tell her that he had heard the group referred to as both the Fleeting Flame and the Flaccid Flame in his two-day stay in Marrbank. Not quite the rebel group he was looking for, but it was a start.

“Can I speak with your leader?” Caelum asked.

Mielle shook her head and blinked hard. “You don’t just get in that easy,” she said. “We’ll be talking to a lower-ranking revolutionary in a neutral location. You try any funny business, we kill you. Understand?”

“Understood,” said Caelum.

Mielle bent down and peered out a crack in some curtains covering the only window in the room. Without looking back, she motioned to Caelum to follow and darted out into the alleyway. Caelum followed.

Out of the dim room, Caelum finally got a good look at Mielle. Her ash blonde hair seemed even wilder in the sunlight. She wore a sack of a gray shirt with long sleeves, although he could see the outline of a hardened leather jerkin underneath it. A black belt hung loosely on her waist and held two worn but sturdy daggers on either side of her. Black pants were tucked into some brown leather boots, and Caelum noticed that there was another small stiletto strapped to one of them. She walked briskly and confidently, but nondescriptly enough to blend in.

Mielle led down another alleyway and into a small door on the back of a building. The door surprisingly led right into the Scarlet Harlot. The bar patrons were as happy, drunk, and loud as they had been the day before, and the soldiers were now gone. Everyone seemed caught up in either a story or a meal.

Mielle laughed heartily and walked up to a lanky man sitting alone at the bar.

“So I finally found this guy,” she said, indicating Caelum. “Got a little tipsy and wandered off. I found him near the docks, I did.”

The man smiled and turned his gaze over toward Caelum. “Ah,” he said. “She was worryin’ herself sick about you, she was.” The man yawned and stretched his arms. “Well, no sense making this day any longer than it already is. Let’s get moving back to the inn. I’m beat.”

And with that, the three of them walked out of the tavern (out of the front door this time) and turned down a street. At the first intersection, he turned left and Mielle turned right. Caelum followed Mielle again.

Caelum kept checking his surroundings as nonchalantly as he could. Maybe Mielle would pull him into another blind alleyway, but he guessed escape would be harder this time around. Caelum wouldn’t be hard to spot in a crowd—no one else had a sword and shield strapped to their back.

She walked wordlessly for several blocks until the pair arrived at a small farming ground on the edge of the town. She glanced cautiously around her, and then motioned for Caelum to follow her. She was sprinting now. Once past the wooden fence, it was just a stone’s throw away to a wooded area. A short distance into the wooded area was a large rock sticking out of the ground, worn smooth by countless years of weather. Mielle sat down atop the rock and looked back at Caelum.

“He should be here soon,” she said.

Mielle plopped herself down on the rock, arms on the ground behind her. Caelum shrugged and sat down on the ground with his back against a tree. He looked down at the ground, showing the first leaves of fall. It wouldn’t be long before winter snows made travel difficult. He didn’t have much time.

“So where are you really from?” Mielle asked.

Caelum sighed and smiled. “Well, actually, I’m from Verris.”

“You seem like the type,” Mielle replied. “Stately, elegant, sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

Caelum laughed awkwardly, said “Ok,” and looked down at the ground for a few seconds. Verris was known for those things—Caelum knew it well. It was just rarely vocalized—at least, not in front of him. “If you’re so critical of Verris, why do you want to see it re-instated?”

“Look, here comes Accia,” said Mielle, rising effortlessly to her feet. The lanky man from the tavern was now approaching them, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Who are you?” he asked Caelum.

“Caelum Deleon, originally from Verris,” Mielle answered for him.

Accia’s eyebrows went up. “Verris? Very interesting.”

“He’d like to join us,” Mielle said, almost patronizingly.

“Uh, I’d like to find out more about you guys,” Caelum said.

“And that’s why you wanted to speak to our leader?” Mielle asked.

“Well, he’d be the most qualified to answer questions, wouldn’t he?” Caelum ventured.

“What questions do you have?” Accia intervened, much to Caelum’s relief.

Caelum sighed and collected himself.

“Look, I want to orchestrate a more concerted effort,” he said. “Knocking off caravans and setting buildings on fire aren’t really moving us any closer to a new Verris.”

Mielle looked furious, but Accia spoke before her: “What did you have in mind?”

“There are a few different rebel groups, and a few countries or militias who would stand against the Sederan Empire. We rally them, we attack the Empire.”

“I have to admit, I admire your spirit,” Accia said, studying him. “But do you think it’s that easy?”

“We’ll never know until we try,” Caelum replied.

“How do you know we haven’t tried?” Mielle asked.

“Try or not, you haven’t succeeded,” Caelum stated, “and that’s what I set out to do.”

Accia looked over at Mielle, his eyes asking a question.

“Well, I don’t know!” Mielle said.

“It probably is time we change our tactics,” Accia said.

“Alright, we’ll take him to see Marcus,” Mielle said with just enough resolution to give Caelum hope that he would actually arrive there.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 13th, 2009 at 10:23 pm and is filed under Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.