Broken Soul

Sola

Sola watched as the last of the strike groups left the column of troops. Only a few knights remained with the army, mostly just Michael's guard. The rest would hit the estates of the rogue nobles and arrest whoever they could.

This would normally be a way too risky plan, with too many things that could go wrong, from the target escaping to them simply barricading themselves. However, both the general situation and the fact that most of those rogue nobles were stationed in Emall made it much more feasible.

With the victory over the Rangda, Michael had an innocent reason to summon all his vassals to Emall and an explanation for the large number of troops traveling through Emall. They would assume it was for celebrations and not think twice about this being some kind of ploy.

Secondly, Emall was nestled between two counties. Their only threatened border was the south, which bordered the Eirec mountains, and for defending against the monsters, they only required a small palisade.

With the lord of the house gone, together with whatever guard he needed for his journey and the quite pathetic fortifications, even a small strike force could take their mansions with little difficulty.

Sola sighed. Geron would, of course, be in the thick of it again, leading the strike force targeting the seat of power of House Plon. She wasn't overly concerned for him, but it was still a little hard that her man was always on the front line.

Well, he made it out of jumping into a whole army of barbarians with little more than some bruising, so he should be fine. He honestly had taken more damage in the scolding he had received after the battle.

She smiled, and then her eye landed on Eydis walking a couple of meters in front of her. They had handed over most of their horses to the strike groups, so they had to walk.

Eydis seemed to be glancing over to where her former clanmates were. Due to their special situation and the unlikelihood of being ransomed, Michael had decided to take them along for the moment.

She hadn't gone to talk to them yet, as far as Sola was aware, similarly avoiding that confrontation as Michael was avoiding her and Kiran. She let her gaze wander to see if she could spot the teenager, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Sola then made an effort to catch up to Eydis and fell into step next to her, causing the woman to eye her curiously.

"Must be hard for them to be dragged along, further away from their home," Sola started and vaguely pointed toward the group of Rangda.

"I assume so," Eydis replied with a raised eyebrow. "They can't realistically go back without being murdered or exiled once again, though."

"No doubt," Sola nodded and walked next to Eydis for a while. Eydis did not attempt to continue the conversation, so it was up to Sola to speak up again. "Have you found time to talk to them yet?"

Eydis scoffed in a well-meaning way. "So that is what you want. No, I am still successfully avoiding them. Not really hard with them being bound prisoners."

"You do not have to talk to them, you know," Sola said. She, of course, didn't support such avoidance tactics as Idas was more of a direct entity and one should strive to emulate his virtues, but she knew that she could get Eydis out of her shell like that.

"You don't need your tricks to get me to talk, you know? You could just ask me what is wrong," Eydis signed with a mischievous smile.

Sola smiled back and nodded, "You are right. My apologies. Most people don't tend to be so open with me about their problems, so I had to learn how to lead a conversation on topics if I want to help them."

"You don't need to apologize. I have been closed off lately, too," Eydis waved her off. "I was thinking about talking to someone about this anyway, to be honest. Not Michael, he is way too supportive sometimes, to a degree that I sometimes wonder if everything he says mirrors his true feelings."

"We both know that it does. He sometimes is too genuine. But go ahead before we change the topic." Eydis winced a little as Sola stopped her attempt at avoiding the topic in its infancy. The priestess couldn't help but smile at her reaction. She had little doubt that the woman would have rather gone to Kiran or Solon with her problems than her.

While they generally did get along, and Sola would definitely describe Eydis as a friend, they often didn't mesh well in subjects of principles, morals, and, of course, faith, which was the reason they mostly avoided those subjects in their alone time.

Sola had never tried to convert Eydis. She didn't feel like pushing her faith on her friends was prudent, and people needed to find the light themselves if they truly wanted to understand it.

"I don't even know what to tell them," Eydis explained. "Do I try to explain why I betrayed them? Do I just ask them to stay with us and become integrated like I did? I just don't know what to say. On the other hand, I do know what they will say, and I don't know if I want to subject myself to that. They do deserve some explanations, though, especially Samira."

"Samira?" Sola asked for more details.

Eydis seemed a little confused that Sola didn't know who that was, but explained nonetheless. "We got closer, I mean very close, and she probably feels used, but my feelings for her were real, so I want to let her know at least that."

"A woman?" she asked and then shook her head. "Doesn't matter, sorry. Different cultures and such. I think it is novel of you that you don't want to avoid them. I am not gonna mince my words here because that would serve you nothing. You have hurt them, you did lead them on, and many would also say you betrayed them. That is a fact, and they probably will hate you for it, but if you avoid them, you will never know and won't have a chance to make your peace. You might even be able to give them some closure, too, who knows."

Eydis marched in silence, but her eyes were unfocused as if she wasn't there at all.

Sola placed her hand on the other woman's shoulder and told her, "You don't have to do it now, but you should do it soon. Everything becomes harder the longer one avoids it."

"You're right. I will talk to them soon. Would you be there when I do?" Eydis asked and looked over to her friend.

Sola blinked, surprised, "You want me there? Wouldn't that be kind of bad with me being a priestess, not to mention that I speak barely a couple of words of your language…"

"I don't care. You are my friend, and I need your strength. Michael will also be there to translate," Eydis replied.

Stolen story; please report.

"Well, if you put it like this, then I can't possibly refuse, can I?"

Redric Plon

Redric was nervously pacing in his office, waiting for the announced messenger from that brat Michael. He had no idea what this was about, but his mind could spin up dozens of cataclysmic situations that might unfold in a couple of minutes.

It had been stressful the last couple of weeks since he sent that damned mercenary to order his son to assassinate Michael. Every day, he had waited for some news, be it that their plan failed and the army of his liege was on his way to claim his head or that his son had succeeded and they could proceed with the next part of the plan.

Redric clenched his jaw as his thoughts brushed past Dittrich. He was his son, but he was utterly useless. Redric still cursed his luck that his most stupid and cowardly son had to be the one with a mana well large enough to become someone of power.

The useless lad had even sent him a letter a few weeks back that he had nearly had the chance to kill Michael when he vanished for some time, but Duncan Grim had appeared just in time, so he had to help beat back some monsters to not destroy his cover. If his lack of commitment wasn't enough, the idiot had gotten injured and knocked out for some time, losing any chance for a second attempt before they returned to the safety of Greyhold.

One rage-inducing thought chased the next as the baron cursed his luck over and over when thinking about how Michael just had to make up with his uncle right now, of all times.

He finally managed to calm down and fell into his chair heavily. He could at least be reasonably sure that Dittrich didn't try again. He had heard from some sources inside the army that his son had been sent on important scouting missions as a reward for protecting his lordship.

Redric couldn't quite understand how that was supposed to be a reward rather than dangerous, and that it showed clear suspicion, but he had never seen duty and work as something honorable or a chance to gain more merits.

Now, they came to the present, his guards had informed him that there was a messenger from that brat with some important news for him personally. It could honestly be anything, but whatever it was, he would have to wait until that damned guy made his way here.

As if summoned by his bellicose thoughts, a knock followed by the voice of one of his knights drew his attention back to his room.

He quickly demanded that they enter, and the messenger and two knights entered, positioning themselves to their lord's flanks.

Michael, knowing about the plot and having sent an assassin, was a possibility after all.

The messenger, a young man with the crest of House Rowan and the outfit of one of those outriders, saluted quickly and spoke.

"Baron Plon, I come with news from the war and a letter from Count Michael Rowan. The Rangda have been decisively beaten in the battle of Rescar's Clearing. They are retreating, and thus the danger to Grent and Emall has been averted."

Redric had to restrain himself from groaning. He, of course, couldn't say what 'decisively beaten' meant without more information, but he had hoped for a more protracted engagement to drain his liege's resources and give Dittrich more opportunities.

"I do come with bad tidings, though, milord. Your son, Dittrich Plon, has been grievously wounded on a mission. He was still alive when I left the army to rush here, but the healers said that he wouldn't recover. My deepest condolences, milord. Lord Rowan is on his way to Emall. If you hurry, you might reach there to meet the army in time before it is too late," the outrider bowed and then reached into his bag to hand a letter to one of the knights, who laid it in front of Redric.

Redric Plon sat motionless on his chair and stared at the outrider without really seeing him.

Was this why he had heard nothing from his son? No, he would have heard if he had been wounded that badly so long ago. It might be a trick. No, that also doesn't make sense. Dittrich had no chance to attack the obnoxious brat as far as he knew. Also, while Michael seemed to have a mind for administration, he didn't understand intrigue. Why else would he allow the noble faction to covertly defy him at every turn and sabotage his efforts?

Heat rose in his cheeks as a realization hit him. Dittrich had fucked it up. He screwed up his chance, then got himself sent off on a mission far away, and to top it all off, he got himself killed. At least, Redric doubted that anyone suspected his plan with such a miserable showing.

It was probably for the better. With Michael openly declaring his fault and reestablishing relations with his uncle, it would have been much more difficult to take control without having disadvantageous chaos.

It was quite annoying to lose a piece like Dittrich, but he had too often shown himself as more of a liability rather than a boon, so Redric couldn't lament too much. Either way, he had a lot of sons anyway, so one more or less didn't matter overly.

After a few moments, he broke his frozen state and put on a show. He bombarded the messenger with questions, called him a liar, threw a tantrum, and did his best to show himself as an enraged and grieving father.

He also read the letter from Michael. It was a bunch of touchy-feely nonsense he was used to from the dumb boy. Apologies, guilt, and condolences.

The messenger left shortly after to get some rest for the journey back, while Redric ordered his knights to prepare for immediate departure toward Emall. He still had a part to play and some guilt to leverage.

When he was finally alone, he scoffed and threw the letter into a small stone bowl he used to burn especially dangerous correspondence.

What misfortune to have such a wimp as a leader, he thought. No one could really deny the lad's bravery against enemies. He did fight before without hesitation, and he faced down both dwarves and beastmen, but with his own people, he was just so weak.

A ruler needed strength, and his subjects needed to feel that strength to know their place. His own efforts were the best sign of the failing rule of Michael after all.

"Dittrich, my son, maybe you have given me a great gift as your last action after all," the baron mumbled as he held a candle to the letter until it burned brightly.

Geron

"There, sir," one of the scouts pointed at an approaching group of riders, numbering around twenty. Geron settled down in the hiding space the scout had made for himself and watched Lord Plon's detachment follow the street toward Emall.

He let mana flare into his eyes, and his vision instantly became sharper. Enhancing one's senses was a disorientating process, and without training or some time to get used to the increased input, it could easily become a hindrance rather than a boon.

Training exactly this was, of course, part of any mana training, and so Geron only took a moment to readjust.

"That is definitely Redric Plon," he said after scanning over the riders. "Seems like he doesn't suspect anything, or he is more reckless than I thought. Keep an eye out, they might circle around us."

"Yes, sir," the scout quietly saluted, and Geron snuck back to their hidden camp.

He had to walk quite a distance to reach it. Due to necessity, they had to camp out some distance from the estate, but also from any major road or path through the forest. Having a camp of fifty men and horses would draw too much attention otherwise.

"How is the situation?" Sir Pluke asked. He was a couple of years older than Geron but didn't seem to mind being his subordinate.

"Baron Plon has left the estate with twenty men. From their getup, two knights and the rest men-at-arms," Geron shared what he had seen.

"House Plon has three knights if I remember right, with two of them gone and the element of surprise on our side, this should be a quick cleanup," the third knight in their group, Sir Boris, said. He had been a middle-aged militia man in one of the border villages, but had shown tremendous talent and skill for someone with lackluster training. Sir Pyke had picked him up shortly after Michael had opened up the knighthood fully, and the man had reached mana blade level merely a year after.

"You are surprisingly well informed for a country bum," Pluke joked at the older man.

Boris grinned dangerously and replied, "Gotta know your enemies to kneecap them just right."

"Just be sure not to get me mixed up when you round up the nobles," Pluke chuckled.

"Nice to see that everyone is motivated," Geron commented with a hint of a smile. "We will give them a couple of hours' head start to get them nice and far away, and then we will move in on the estate. Pluke, you will secure the perimeter with the outriders. No one escapes. Boris, you go in through the back with the second squad, and I will go in the front with the first squad.

"We will need to be fast and decisive. They should be undermanned, but they have the defender's advantage if we let them. Lord Rowan would also appreciate it if we brought in the important targets alive. I intend to fulfill that wish. There will be no revenge against nobility and no excess by any of the soldiers, am I understood?"

The two knights nodded in agreement. He didn't expect any problems. His men were part of the House Rowan, standing guard, so they were well-trained and well-drilled, but it never hurt to stress discipline before heated combat.

"Good, then prepare your men, and I want an action plan for your squads in an hour," Geron dismissed his two knights and joined the fifteen men who made up the first squad to do the same.