Irobu's Odyssey of Deceit Chapter 10: Return

The watches were quiet, and when morning came there was no sign of the magical cat from the prior evening. While the Sodality quartet gathered their meager belongings, the caravaners donned the leftover leather armor and chain shirts that the vampires had stolen. They soon departed after having a light meal of bread and cheese. Harold again led the column through the misty forest; Swift hunted along the way to supplant the band’s rapidly diminishing rations. At night, Ser Griffiths tutored Harold, Swift crafted arrows, and Irobu argued with Thrun. Ultimately, the horses’ drag marks led them back to the road two days later, whereupon the survivors picked up as many swords as they could from the debris. Fortunately, the remainder of their time in the archaic forest was uneventful.

Shortly thereafter, the band emerged from the woods and advanced onto the edge of the grasslands. Grins filled the caravaners faces as the warm rays confirmed that their nightmare was over; Harold seemed equally happy to be leaving the gloomy forest. Now on the edge of the plains, Irobu spotted the hideous outline of Jarren’s Outpost to the northwest.

Still onward the haggard company traveled. Eventually nightfall forced them to stop at a fishing village, one that Irobu and her companions had already passed through on their way to the Whispering Woods. While the villagers were shocked at the sight of the four golden cloaks, they were absolutely stupefied by the eight gaunt men trailing behind them. Word spread quickly, and only minutes later the twelve guests were surrounded by a crowd of marveling common folk, several of which greeted the older caravaners by name. The village’s innkeep pushed through the crowd and requested that Ser Griffiths recount the tale of what happened.

Graciously, Ser Griffiths complied and provided a brief retelling of how their mission unfolded—even this compressed version greatly pleased the onlookers. They gasped at the mention of vampires and “oohed” and “aahed” when he spoke of the magic and miracles used to defeat them. The crowd offered their sympathy when they heard about the less fortunate caravaners. Irobu did notice that some of the townspeople now eyed her suspiciously. Thrun recommended ignoring these yokels, which had been Irobu’s first thought as well.

When Ser Griffiths finished his tale, the innkeep offered the Sodality members free lodgings and all the fish they could eat for saving the friends of the town. The gold cloaked band happily took him up on his offer; his generous hospitality was a welcome change from the long trek through the wilderness. Making sure to avoid Swift, Irobu ate beside Ser Griffiths.

Remembering how Swift had accused her of being arrogant, the young Sanusite decided to stifle her superiority complex and have a conversation with her male comrades. Irobu politely asked Ser Griffiths about his life in Fairhaven and about how he fought in the Spellmarsh. Clearly in good spirits, the former paladin answered Irobu’s questions happily. Irobu in turn answered the knight’s questions about life in Gargam, and more specifically, the Sanusites’ religious practices. Once their bellies were full and their thirst quenched, the company disbanded for the evening.

Both the Sodality team and the surviving caravaners set off for Duncaster at daybreak. They received similarly hearty receptions at the other villages and towns, and within a week they were back inside of Duncaster’s cramped walls. The caravaners reported to the Fairhaven embassy, while the members of the Sodality made for Castle Fowther. By midday the squad reached the castle gate; Todd was waiting behind the lowered portcullis in a yellow robe. The young boy blinked several times at Ser Griffiths’ greeting, then moved to the winch to allow the successful quartet to enter. Once the group was inside the courtyard, the young orphan dropped the portcullis and scampered into the castle proper.

“He’s a weird one, that…Todd?” Ser Griffiths remarked, leading the way after the small boy. “Always so quiet. Children are supposed to be loud and energetic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being quiet,” Swift cut in.

“Though communication is vital for success,” Irobu replied.

“He is good…obedient boy. Buain smile on him,” Harold added, looking to Ser Griffiths.

“Come now, Irobu and Swift, no need for another fight. Harold, I see you have been listening,” the former Paladin smirked and entered through the oaken door.  

Within, the great hall was far brighter than when Irobu had last seen it; evidently the tall windows on both sides of the hall had been scrubbed. Two chandeliers provided additional light to the spacious chamber. The delectable aroma of roasted meat percolated the room; its source was a lengthy wooden table that had been set up in front of the raised platform. Three men and three orphans—all wearing golden outfits—were seated around a large roasted pig at center of the table. There were also four empty seats. Ser Griffiths eagerly approached the waiting Sodality members, and Harold, Swift and Irobu were right on his heels.

Master Palus then rose from his seat at the head of the table while the others already seated turned to look at the new arrivals. Squinting at the two unknown men, all that Irobu could determine was that the pair had lanky frames and heads topped with dirty blond hair. Nonetheless, their eyes went wide and the color drained from their faces as Irobu, Ser Griffiths, Swift, and Harold moved to sit.

“Welcome back!” Master Palus hailed. “Word of your exploits reached ‘ere long before you did; it sounds like you’ve done a bloody good job. You can tell us all about it after we devour this pig that Thad roasted it up for the special occasion.”

The quartet thanked Master Palus and quickly took their places at the table. Meanwhile, Thad carved hunks of meat from the carcass and placed them in front of each member of the Sodality. Whereas most of the men, women, and children in attendance proceeded to dig in, the two unknown men only nibbled at their slices. The pair was watching Harold nervously; Irobu also spotted bandages beneath their roomy sleeves.

“Well done as always, Thad,” Master Palus commended the tall orphan chef when the pig had been stripped of all its cuts. Thad smiled and bowed in his chair. “Ah, and before we hear your report, I’d like to introduce you to George and William. They are all that remains of our former squadron.”

George and William grimaced but greeted the new members. “Don’t worry lads,” Ser Griffiths comforted the two young men. He waggled his finger with Harold’s collar ring, “Harold is on a much tighter leash now. He won’t be causing you any more problems.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you bad men,” Harold apologized. “By Buain, I promise not hurt you again,” the former shepherd sincerely vowed.

George and William’s gaze flickered between the former paladin and Harold, but they ultimately took deep breaths and sat back in their chairs. Despite Ser Griffiths’ and Harold’s assurances however, the pair continued to watch Harold out of the corners of their eyes.

“Now that the introductions are complete, Ser Griffiths please commence your report,” Master Palus instructed.

Ser Griffiths proceeded to rattle off his account of their mission, starting with their arrival at the caravan and how they followed the drag marks into the Whispering Woods. Irobu took over and detailed how she stopped the vampire ambush with lightning bolts and fire. Petrus, Thad and Todd all listened with rapt attention to the dramatic battle scene, though Swift had a curmudgeonly look on her face.

“So Irobu was the only one not affected by the Vampires’ spells?” Master Palus questioned while taking notes in a small tome.

“Correct,” Irobu confirmed. Likely because of you, I imagine.

True, your mind is still undeveloped and should have been easy pickings for those beasts. More proof of my might, Thrun bragged.

“Don’t forget that the fire was a mishap, as was the earthquake you created,” Swift broke in.

“Also true,” Irobu admitted. “Though no one was injured.”

“Such is the unfortunate risk of utilizing magic. Though that may change soon,” Master Palus hinted. Swift raised an eyebrow but Master Palus waved his hand at Ser Griffiths to continue. Carrying on, the former paladin spoke next about the assault on the stone structure in the Whispering Woods. He discussed their plan about sealing the windows and funneling the vampires through the lone door.

“An interesting idea,” Master Palus mulled. “Though judging by ‘ow torn and bloodied your cloaks are I imagine the assault didn’t go as planned.”

“We were going to wisely use stealth to our advantage, since the vampires were still asleep during our approach,” Irobu explained somewhat bitterly. “Then we heard one of the caravan crew scream inside, and Ser Griffiths roared and charged towards the building.” 

“In hindsight it was not the wisest move, but I would do it again if it meant saving more innocents,” Ser Griffiths defended. “Enough dying screams already haunt me.”

“Ser Knight, you must remember that the mission was to put a stop to whatever was attacking the caravans. You risked the success of the mission and your comrades’ lives with your brash attack,” Master Palus chided the former paladin. “‘Ad more of the vampires been awake they would surely ‘ave surrounded you all and torn you to pieces. The success of the missions I assign you all, and all of your lives, are of paramount importance. Anything else is a tertiary concern. As ‘arsh as that may sound, many more innocents will perish should we fail in our endeavors; you must see the big picture.”

“The big picture?” Ser Griffiths asked as he scrunched his wrinkled face.

“I suppose at this point you’ve all proven yourselves, and I suspect one of you knows what I mean already,” Master Palus considered, glancing at Swift. “The Spellmarsh is expanding rapidly, as Swift and Ser Griffiths have seen firsthand. Our allies in Fairhaven and…elsewhere estimate that within one to two years, the creeping mist and ‘orrors within will envelope everything east of Dracgate.”

“Everything? Truly?” Ser Griffiths blurted, a supposition which Master Palus confirmed solemnly. “But that means that all of Fairhaven would be gone,” Ser Griffiths gaped.

“And now you begin to see the big picture, what we’re fighting for,” Master Palus carried on. “Our goal is to stop the Spellmarsh’s advance, and to dispel whatever curse binds it to our world. What did the last mission ‘ave to do with that lofty goal? It was to both do a favor for the Fairhaven Enlightened, gain support from the magisters ‘ere by restoring trade, and to show the continent that we aren’t to be trifled with. Fortunately, it seems you were triumphant in all three objectives.

“That was step one. Step two will require strengthening our coalition and establishing our role as an intermediary between our allies as we prepare for our assault. Step three will be an expedition to the ruins at the heart of the Spellmarsh.”

“Hold on,” Irobu interjected, “Just who are we working with? Why do we need to be intermediaries? The people from Fairhaven and who else?

Certainly someone unpalatable, otherwise he’d come out and say it. The Sanusites perhaps? I doubt Hekal wants his worshippers overwhelmed by the marsh, Irobu guessed.

I think not. This will be good however, Thrun chortled. Watch Swift’s face.

Irobu needed no excuse to gaze at the elf’s beautiful, angular face, still cased in locks of auburn hair. Waiting for his response, the elf’s sizable, verdant eyes were trained on the old man at the head of the table.

“An intelligent question, Miss Vikria,” Master Palus stalled. “We will be working with Fairhaven and the…well a faction of the Mages of Qert.”

Swift’s mouth twitched and her once calm visage contorted into a snarl. “You’d work with those sadistic monsters? Weren’t you listening when I told you about the horrors of their experiments? Don’t you see how evil those…those lunatics are?” Swift spat fiercely as she rose from her seat.

Master Palus too rose to his feet and patiently looked over at Swift. “Easy now, I know the prospect of working with your abusers sounds awful. But I beg, please take a breath before you rush to judgement. A lot ‘as changed in Qert since they lost their colony ‘ere. The former council that authorized the experiments ‘as been disbanded. Most of the mages involved with the colony itself perished during the Spellmarsh’s creation. The rest died from old age,” Master Palus divulged to the seething elf.

“And so now you want to work with their children? Monsters beget monsters,” Swift yelled back, “I’ve seen that first hand.”

“Believe me, they aren’t my first choice for aid. We’ll be working with one of the more sensible factions, as opposed to the more sadistic or fanatical ones. Regardless, their knowledge of the arcane is unmatched, and the products of their research will be invaluable. Without them, ending the Spellmarsh will be nigh on impossible,” Master Palus replied. “If you ever want to return to your forested ‘ome, this is how we must proceed.”

Unmatched? They are but novices, Thrun condescended.

Can you end the Spellmarsh? Irobu asked. If so, you should speak up. I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect of working with those mages.

If I knew the cause of it, then assuredly.

But you don’t. So you can’t. That’s what I thought, demon.

Swift sat back down, though the scowl lingered on her face.

“There’s still time before we work more closely together with the Mages, which should allow you to process this development and work through your feelings. Remember what’s at stake,” the old Sanusite advised gently.

“Why do they care about what happens here?” Irobu questioned, recalling the various tales of the legendarily self-possessed Qertisians.

“With the rate the mist is spreading, it will engulf their home in Eberucis soon enough to be of concern,” the old Sanusite answered.

“So what now? You mentioned strengthening our coalition? Do we have to do a mission for the Mages of Qert?” Ser Griffiths inquired, also clearly not thrilled at the prospect.

“Perhaps, now we wait. We’ve shown that we can complete difficult tasks, undoubtedly our allies ‘ave other tasks that need completion to become ready for the expedition. In the meantime, you all may get some rest and relaxation, so long as you continue to train and check back ‘ere every night. Irobu you should train as well, though no magic. I don’t want to risk any mishaps in the castle,” Master Palus laid out his plan.

“That shoul—” the old Sanusite cut himself off. “Always getting ahead of myself. Prior to resting, head to the infirmary and I’ll get you all patched up. Can’t ‘ave any of you getting infections. Unless anyone ‘as any other burning questions, you are all dismissed. Todd will also prepare baths in the infirmary.”

“I’m fine,” Swift stated, jumping out of her chair and storming off to the new recruits’ floor.

Master Palus let her go, and then he and Todd led the way to the infirmary, which unsurprisingly, was as expansive as the rest of the castle. Irobu counted some twenty rooms adjoining the main medical bay, entering one of the rooms exposed a bed placed in front of a large window. Todd and Petrus delivered bathtubs, bathwater, and soap for the injured recruits. Once the trio washed in the sick rooms, Master Palus treated their wounds with stinging poultices.

Thrun bragged that he knew countless spells to heal the cuts and bruises in a flash, but Irobu wanted to obey Master Palus’ request. When the old Sanusite had finished tending to Irobu, she asked for the whereabouts of the library. Noting his complicated directions, she retired to her quarters through the winding passageways of Castle Fowther. On her way, Irobu noticed that the soot had been scrubbed from the new recruit hallway as well. Now eight torches burned in the main corridor, illuminating upwards of ten rooms on each side.

Apparently someone here does know how to clean, Irobu remarked snidely as she ventured into her room. While the musty odor remained, the afternoon sun now filtered through her window unimpeded. She peered through the newly cleaned portal and was rewarded with a pleasant view of the ornate mausoleums and mansions that lined Duncaster’s central avenue. As entertaining as the new view was, Irobu heard her bed calling to her. She set down her—now light—travel pack and plopped onto the soft bedding. Before she knew it, she was out cold.

            What must have been hours later, Irobu awoke splayed across the aged bed. The sunlight now shone only on the roofs of the surrounding buildings, leaving the urban canyons in shadow. The young Sanusite made off for the library. On her way out the door, she spotted George and William scrubbing the wall at the edge of the torchlight. They paid her no mind, and Irobu departed wordlessly.

After wandering the corridors for some time, Irobu caught wind of a musty smell and followed it into the Sodality’s library. Rows and rows of overstuffed bookshelves filled the space and formed narrow corridors that Irobu had to turn sideways to pass along. Golden crystals were inlaid into the ceiling, bathing the cramped aisles in yellow light. She discovered several tables under great piles of books, and spotted several staircases heading upward.

What are you searching for? Thrun inquired.

I want to see what the Nzank were really like, Irobu replied. And more about what the Sanusites were like pre-Hekal.

You’ve already acquired a decent understanding from me, Thrun asserted. But perhaps one of these books holds clues about what happened to the other Nzank.

Thus Irobu navigated through the sea of books in an attempt to uncover the history section. Instead, she found countless books on cooking and proper techniques for blacksmithing. Further efforts only yielded encyclopedias that seemingly covered each plant and animal in existence.

This place is a sty! Thrun complained. You’ll die before you find anything useful in this mess. In our libraries, one had to simply speak a subject into a box and related books would float over to you!

Yeah, yeah, the Nzank were great, haven’t heard that a thousand times, Irobu thought absentmindedly as she continued reading the spines of tomes large and small. Subsequently, she found a series of manuscripts on proper ship design, but still no historical texts. The young Sanusite slipped by the shelves and went up one of the staircases she had seen by the entrance.

Unfortunately, the second floor was indistinguishable from the first. Irobu continued to scan the titles of the books as she passed by them, though lost in her focus, she bumped into someone.

You need to stop doing that, Thrun scolded.

“Sorry,” Irobu hastily apologized to the teenager blocking the aisle. He was holding open a book and looked lost in thought. Irobu recognized him as Petrus.

“Huh?” Petrus asked, eyes still trained on the book in his hands.

“Forget about it,” Irobu replied, though she reached over and closed his book.

“Hey, I was reading that!” Petrus glared up at Irobu.

“And you can keep reading it once you show me where the history section is.”

 “What’s with all you new eccentrics and history? You’re the second person to ask me that today,” Petrus grumbled.

“Sec—” Irobu started to question.

“Mhm, the plant lady asked the same thing. Come on, I’ll show you where it is,” he instructed impatiently as he led the way through the narrow corridors.

Plant lady? Surely he means Swift? What’s she looking up history for? Irobu wondered.

Perhaps researching the Mages, or finding out what happened to the elves, Thrun reasoned. Or maybe she’s looking up how to stop the advances of annoying Sanusites.

Hey, I left her alone. And talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

“Here you are, good luck,” Petrus interrupted the internal dialogue and vanished around a corner.

Finally back on track, Irobu returned her focus to the shelves. The faded and cracked spines of the books in this area confirmed that Petrus hadn’t led her astray. She uncovered volumes about former councilors in Qert as well as detailed descriptions of the Sodality’s actions during each Grandmaster’s tenure. The latter had golden jackets; Irobu noticed a conspicuously empty spot on the shelf. Still deeper she pressed, moving past accounts of the early days of Fairhaven and Duncaster. At last, she found a section sporting a number of archeological reports conducted by Tudur Fowther and his contemporaries. Irobu leafed through several of them; their spidery print was furnished with sketches on the thick pages.

Go back, Thrun said when Irobu flipped past a particular sketch. The young Sanusite flipped to the previous page, but the lack of space prevented her from opening the report fully.

Recognize something? Irobu quizzed as she began to hunt around for a table.

Nzankian art and architecture, Thrun confirmed. There’s no mistaking those beautifully smooth arches and tunnels; the quality of the statues is such that they could only have been made by the Nzank.

Irobu’s hunt soon bore fruit—she spotted a cluttered table at the end of the aisle. When she emerged from the stacks however, Irobu saw that Swift occupied one of the two chairs at the table. The slender elf was staring intently at a massive manuscript whose pages were barely in one piece.

Swift gazed up at Irobu, sneered, and promptly returned to reading. Regardless, or perhaps because of that hostile reaction, Irobu sat down at the other seat and pored through the report that had caught Thrun’s eye. At first glance, it appeared to document the latter portion of Tudur Fowther’s expedition into the Ugboku, but the report also covered their unexpectedly eventful return journey.

An earthquake had rocked the plains while they were skirting by the Imperator Mountains, one more powerful than any in the company had experienced. Shortly thereafter, Fowther and company discovered a shattered cylinder sticking up out of the ground; closer inspection allowed them to see that a descending staircase was inside.

Sounds Nzankian. Must have been quite the earthquake to shatter one of our exits, Thrun remarked.

Why build in the middle of nowhere like that?

Our outposts and cities were connected by tunnels that spanned the continent, so even that far off fortification would be accessible.

Further reading told of the small series of chambers the explorers found at the bottom of the staircase. All were said to be illuminated by glowing, green crystals. Sketches of the floorplan were included with the narrative; several black marks were labeled on the sketches as piles of dust and assorted metal objects. Fowther also drew some of those artifacts, specifically an amulet and a chain shirt. The expedition left after a day of documentation due to diminishing rations, and so the remainder of the report discussed the mundane crossing of the plains towards Jarren’s Outpost.

Curious, Thrun mused. It sounds as though those Nzank were disintegrated. Did a civil war begin after my ascension?

Petrus returned to the crowded table and informed both women that it was time for supper. All three trooped down to the great hall, where the other Sodality members were already assembled. Ser Griffiths carried on explaining the teachings of Buain to Harold, along with how to speak properly. George and William were slumped in their chairs, their hands blackened from their labor. Master Palus again sat at the head of the table while Thad distributed hunks of fried fish. Between bites, the old Sanusite recounted tales of the Sodality’s glory days. Irobu listened for the most part and asked the occasional question.

Soon the salty morsels were gone and Palus wrapped up his tale. Prior to anyone leaving however, Harold tossed a leather pouch onto the cluttered table. Its contents rattled together mysteriously.

“Play game,” Harold warmly invited the assembled group. “Fun, I promise.”

George and William cast sidelong glances at each other and shook their heads. Without hesitation they hustled out of the great hall.

“I’m afraid the orphans can’t join in either, because they’re already behind on their chores. Speaking of, clear away this mess,” Master Palus directed, gesturing to the empty plates and mugs. At his command, the orphans scurried to action, stacking plates and collecting crumbs. “I too am unable to participate, for I am behind on my research,” Master Palus himself demurred and retreated to his chambers.

“I’ll pass,” Swift balked. “I doubt whatever is in that bag will be fun.”

Frowning, Harold turned to Ser Griffiths. “I’ll play so long as there isn’t gambling,” the former paladin agreed. Lastly, Harold’s brown eyed stare shifted to Irobu.

Our time would be better spent in the library than spent on anything proposed by this idiot, Thrun advised, his annoyance palpable.

“Let’s see what you have in store,” Irobu acceded, if for no other reason than to spite Thrun.

A smile spread across the shepherd’s face. “Good,” he declared happily. The orphans cleaned up the meal in short order and Harold promptly emptied the contents of his leather bag onto the table. Four bones tumbled onto the wooden surface, each roughly rectangular and no bigger than Irobu’s thumb.

What did I tell you! He calls a bag of bones amusement! Thrun carped.

Looks riveting to me, Irobu lied in reply.

Nonetheless, she was a tad curious. “What are those, Harold?” the young Sanusite inquired politely.

“Shagai,” he answered, though after seeing Irobu and Ser Griffiths’ confused expressions, added, “Bones from sheep ankles. Four ways to land. Camel, horse, sheep and goat,” he detailed, rotating one of the bones through the four positions. Irobu and Ser Griffiths nodded, although at least to Irobu the different positions were indistinguishable from one another.

“And what is the game then?” the former paladin asked, running his fingers over one of worn pieces.

“Simple. Roll shagai, get four points if four same, two points if two pairs same, or eight if all different. I start,” he proclaimed and snatched up the four shagai in a callused hand. With carefully moving fingers, the former shepherd rolled the dice-like bones—only to hiss when he saw the result.

“No points. Rusty,” he explained and passed off the shagai to Irobu. In turn, she too rolled the anklebones, sending them clattering down the table. This time Harold’s eyes lit up. Hands quick as lightning, Harold snatched up the four pieces.

“Forgot rule. If roll four same, person can take shagai and get four points too. So Irobu and I tied,” Harold clarified while handing the bones to Ser Griffiths.

A mix of technique, luck and reflexes, Irobu judged. Is this how other people entertain themselves? Hekal surely wouldn’t approve. All the more reason to give it a shot I suppose.

“How does the game end?” Ser Griffiths prodded Harold.

“Get twenty more points than others,” the former shepherd illuminated.

And so the trio took turns shooting the bones. While Harold initially ran circles around his companions, Irobu and Ser Griffiths proved to be quick learners. They soon recognized the protrusions that identified each side and gained an understanding of how to roll in an advantageous manner. Even Irobu found herself getting invested in the game, smiling and laughing whenever she snatched up someone’s roll or when she was barely beaten to the punch. Once the novelty wore off, Harold introduced numerous other games that could also be played with the shagai. All told, they played for an hour and then called it quits, though Irobu’s contented feeling lasted far longer.

The subsequent week followed the same pattern. Still reassessing her worldview, Irobu spent the days studying the literature in the library. She noted wherever her Gargam Academy education conflicted with the written page and wondered why the Priests of Hekal would pedal that specific lie. Master Palus also forced Irobu to practice running and using her dagger. When not practicing archery, Swift spent her time in the library, though she avoided Irobu like the plague. Harold and Ser Griffiths sparred in the courtyard and took trips to Buain’s small shrine in Duncaster. After supper each night, Irobu, Harold and Ser Griffiths lingered at the table and played Shagai together, much to Thrun’s chagrin. The castle itself also changed as the Sodality waited for updates—it seemed a bit cleaner each day.

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