Chapter 41: at the White Falls (Scythe)

  "Long have we enjoyed the hospitality of the land of White Falls, in generations past and in the present." Scythe calls to Zlatan Hartford, the acting lord of House Hartford now that his father lies elderly and infirm, bedridden as the dance of days has pressed its weight upon his body toward its near end. Zlatan carries a look about him that shows he respects his guests Reto and Scythe, yet remains annoyed at their continued presence in his family's halls.

  "I am glad I can be of service, but please—how much longer will you be staying among us? After all, you have never visited in my lifetime, and my father recalls no visit during his days as acting lord." Zlatan's concern was justified, and had every right to be as the ageless warriors of Kaya had arrived nearly a month ago speaking of troubles and trifles they needed to sort out with Lord Chile Bruin in the West at Dol. Once they saw the waterfalls and heard the calming sounds that echoed through the Hartford family's forests, the two took rest and had stayed put ever since. They enjoyed the sounds and colors of the trees, as well as eating whatever the Hartford family placed before them.

  "Are you so eager to get rid of us?" Scythe asked. Reto was sleeping in the grass nearby. In all their time at White Falls, neither had taken a bed or slept in the castle, but instead enjoyed the serene calls of the waterfalls and the soft foliage of the forest floor. Reto loved this as it reminded him of the days when they traveled with Kaya herself and spent many nights away from any luxuries. Scythe, having spent a cycle of sleep alone in the ruined temple on the volcanic isle, had in many ways forgotten about such stilled beauty. All he usually saw during his days were the empty plains of Archana when he dared visit, and the rustling, violent ocean waters.

  "No, my lord Scythe. It is just that it has been such a strange arrival, and we are wondering if preparations should be made for longer stays when perhaps the seasons change." Zlatan chose his words carefully.

  A servant proved less than intelligent when the duo arrived weeks earlier. He heckled Scythe and questioned the men about their identity. Scythe and Reto were strolling through the gardens of Hartford House near the wading pools where rushing waters settled into calm. They had even dared to dip their feet in the cool liquid and rest from their travels. As they arrived in this beautiful refuge situated far south of their nearest established neighbors—Imholt, Mitre, and Jule—the legends felt peace wash over them. The land here had long been known for this quality, something the lords of White Falls had always sought to preserve by any means.

  The servant on duty who discovered them was baffled by the sight of two unknown and heavily armed men: one cloaked in darkness with a sword across his back, the other encased in gleaming heavy armor from head to toe with a massive polearm slung over his shoulder. "What are you two doing here?" he called, then threw a stone at a nearby bell to alert others. The bell summoned many to the area, including the ruling family who appeared on a balcony overlooking the scene.

  Scythe told him to stand down and alert the lord of the city to come greet them. The servant, however, maintained his surly attitude—something Scythe, long-traveled and weary from being awake for so long in for the first time in fifty years, was in no mood to endure. The servant died in a blink. His body lay sliced into twelve pieces before anyone present could comprehend that even the first strike had occurred. This was the introduction Scythe gave to Zlatan and the others of the estate.

  Zlatan quickly made amends and greeted them properly before learning who these unknown men truly were. This revelation shocked him, and he swiftly—in both terror and honor—summoned everyone in the family and all notable figures throughout White Falls to pay their respects to the legends themselves. He even roused his father and mother to meet the legendary hero and the king of Archana.

  Though that was many days ago, and while he enjoyed having such strong men in his lands, the lord wished to return to the simple, quiet ways before their arrival. He longed to be free of the tension and fear of what mayhem might erupt today—perhaps from an insult or a poorly prepared meal. Scythe and Reto were well rested by this point and had no desire for wanton violence against civilians or anyone who posed no challenge to them, but the lord didn't know this.

  "We should start out for Dol soon, Scythe. We probably could have gotten there twice by now." Reto remarked as he yawned under the dappled sunlight that pierced the beautiful canopy overhead, the trees hanging over their peaceful setting. Despite walking the land for over 1000 years, neither had experienced such inner calm in ages—unless they were in slumber. These were almost forgotten emotions to them both, which explained why they basked in the feeling for so long.

  "Perhaps. But what about you, Zlatan?" The swordsman spoke, fixing his gaze on the host. "The world—or at least your world, the free plains—sits in a scene of chaos and turmoil, worn and bloodied by combat as houses everywhere crumble and fall. Yet here the clan of Hartford and their retainers sit in peace and joy. Is the tranquility of these woods and waterfalls such powerful medicine that you cannot sense the suffering of those beyond your grounds? Are you and the men who call this lush landscape home blind to the realm of Wiera outside this sheltered paradise? Even we—Scythe, who dwells on an isle days' sailing from the southern land of Jali, and Reto, who lives behind the great wall of Archana in an isolated country—have been stirred to fight in these times of war. Yet here you sit, not even rallying to aid the families of the region around you, whom you've no doubt spent years hosting and being hosted by. We know you understand what I speak of, as word reaches even here through traders and merchants. News of Conner Bolden holding Jule and the chaos the South Central Plains have endured. So why—why do you sit here without rallying the able-bodied men your house commands?"

  Scythe spoke at length, but truth fell from his lips as the swordsman wielded a different blade in this moment. His words cut deep into the acting lord of House Hartford. Zlatan was a man who had let the songs of birds and the chirps of fearless animals soften his spirit. He thought of his wife and his five children, all very young, and wondered how he would react if the White Falls came under attack. Would anyone come to his aid?

  He knew the answer in his heart as he reflected on his own inaction throughout the seasons of war. When Shenis called to challenge the Valtrex, who had seized stronghold after stronghold and opened the combat seasons by marching against the jackals who came out from their base at Valor. When the Bruin swept through under Conner Bolden and sacked Jule after forcing Runsa to quietly bend the knee. When Conner bribed the Men of Mitre to stay their hands. When they marched further east to claim the coast. Even as Shenis returned from the North and tried to push back the enemy lines—first by beating the garrison at Runsa, then by defeating the Holts and removing their influence root and stem, and finally by once again reclaiming Runsa completely. Shenis Savoy, a lone heir of a fallen house, had fought without banners or formal men at his side and won victories in the face of defeat.

  All while the Noble House Hartford—who boasted a longer history in the realm than the Savoy—had sat idly by. They remained protected from ruin only by their remote location and by the efforts of others: Scythe in the islands, Reto holding back the fell riders in Archana, Aurora sowing confusion in the Gulf lands, Flynn and Valtrex breaking strong army lines throughout the realm, and even Parakles leading a prisoner revolt in the lands just south of Dol. These people and their retainers had answered the call in their various ways, yet this man had never once drawn his sword, readied his bow, or even saddled his mare during all this conflict.

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  "I sit here because the soothing sounds of nature have dulled my ears to the throngs of war. I am undone, my lords. Though I have few men to spare for warfare, I do have myself and others who would help turn the tide in these conflicts across the lands. Yet we sit here drinking our water and enjoying our fruits in a peace we have not bled for—nor have any in my father's or his father's generation earned by the wage of the sword."

  Zlatan paused as he let his own words wash over him, illuminating memories from the past. He had no recollection of recent events unfolding across the world. Yet, images came to life in the realm inside his skull, the smell of drying blood and hot steel, the sound of sparking metal clashing, and the stench of rotting corpses. These sensations flooded his mind's eye. Zlatan felt ashamed.

  "My Lords Scythe and Reto, what must I do to remove the shame of clean hands that my House bears?"

  "Yesterday we heard from a merchant passing through that Shenis Savoy has set up his base in Runsa and is blocking supply routes for Conner Bolden's remaining army stationed in Jule. Conner failed in his previous attempt to reach the east coast—defeated in battle by the jackals of the north. He has only one option to resupply: break through and capture either Runsa or ImHolt, both under the dove's control."

  "So I should rally my men and join the coming battle?" Zlatan asked—for it was truly a question. The acting head of the Hartford clan's voice lacked confidence, as if he didn't believe himself worthy of salvation through others' blood. Scythe nodded while Reto lay back on the cool grass, enjoying the land's peaceful calm.

  Zlatan understood what needed to be done. He went to his father's bedside and, in sight of his mother and younger sibling, took up his sword and told his family of his responsibility to fight for those he considered neighbors. His father Matias was not long for this world, so he offered no reply, though his mother's eyes filled with tears of fear, uncertain whether the head of their family would return.

  "Brother, what of your wife Amelia and your children? They're still too young to rule in your absence," his younger brother asked.

  "Then you shall sit as my viceroy while I am gone to war." Zlatan spoke to his brother. "Thierry, you must do this for me—tend to my family and your own while I'm away. I cannot allow history's annals to be recorded without our family name of Hartford being mentioned as taking part in this great conflict, one so moving that even the most isolated peoples take up arms."

  Zlatan grabbed what armor he had. His greatest assets in the forest were his archery skills, so with his sword at his side and his quiver secured to his horse's reins, he called out to those he deemed fit to follow him into potential ruin. War offers no guarantee of return for any who stride into its jaws.

  The acting lord of the White Falls made no promises of glory or homecoming. He made no attempt to conscript men unwilling to lay down their lives for others' good. This was his appeal as he stood in the main square of the White Falls atop his brown steed, resplendent in his armor and stag pelt coat.

  "House Hartford and all of us who live in this hallowed city have long enjoyed the fruits of peace and prosperity that come from dwelling in this serene realm—beautiful and remote from the troubles of the outside world. In many ways, we have forgotten what it means to stand and fight for what we believe in, to hold the realm accountable for their evils. For years now, first the jackals of the north and now the bruins of the west have brought hostilities to people and lesser houses throughout Wiera. We here in the White Falls have been spared these troubles. Our homes remain lavish, our families whole and happy. Our men die in their warm beds of age and illness, not starving in the cold or impaled upon spikes. House Hartford and you, its subjects, have avoided paying the price for these comforts for an age—an age I have enjoyed myself, as have you. Yet others we call neighbors suffer under the realm's tumult. Please understand: I go to war to pay this debt for our joy, and to drive back the chaos from the lands around us. The traders, merchants, and messengers speak of the Valtrex not being our enemy but merely expanding their influence to bring stability to the north. Yet the Bruin House of Dol continues their relentless efforts not just to overthrow the world of nobility, but to trample all of Wiera underfoot through brutal military force. I ride at day's end to aid the rightful ruler of Jule, Shenis Savoy, in his fight to defeat the menace sent by the Bruin, Conner Bolden. I shall fight to help reclaim his ancestral halls and pray the history books will remember the name Hartford with honor, not shame. I love you all, my people. And because I love you, I will not demand anyone join my party. Thierry and my family will stay to maintain order and peace in our forest. Our waterfalls will stay white and not turn red. Though I ask—if you dare pay for others to have what we so freely enjoy in peace—ride with me tonight."

  At the conclusion of his speech, the people offered no cheers or insults. A somber feeling settled over the square as word spread throughout the city and forest, letting everyone know what had been said. Tough conversations followed among the people. While some had no desire to take part in such conflicts, others felt responsibility stir in their chests—a pride that wouldn't be easily quelled by a good dinner and restful sleep.

  The day passed, and Scythe and Reto emerged from the calm of the Hartford estate to find Lord Zlatan at the gate near the road leading down into the central plains, which would take them to the fields between Runsa, Imholt, and Jule. They made no comment as they joined Zlatan, who sat with concern in his eyes as the sun set with no others rallying to join his efforts. "Wonderful day, isn't it, Lord Hartford?" Scythe smiled. It was the first time he had used the lord's title during his entire stay, catching Zlatan off guard.

  "I was hoping for a better turnout... or at least some turnout."

  "Some will come. Maybe we'll see you again, Hartford." Scythe jested as both he and Reto extended their hands to shake the man's hand.

  "You are leaving?" Zlatan asked.

  "We have business with Lord Chile Bruin as well. He has been waging war throughout the realm and has disturbed us—though he would have no reason to provoke us unless he seeks something beyond mere conquest." Reto said.

  "We plan on having a very spirited conversation with the man when we meet him," Scythe added.

  "Then why did you stay here so long if he is such a threat?" Zlatan asked.

  "The forest, the falls, and your halls have the same effect you are currently speaking and moving against. Our old souls were so taken by the calm that it surprised us in ways we weren't prepared for. This vacation of the soul has been divine." The cherubim of Kaya spoke with joy in his dark heart. The men shook hands and strolled down the path out of the forest toward their purpose, leaving Zlatan to wait as the sun dropped below the horizon.

  He closed his eyes as he hobbled his horse, knowing he might catch a quick wink of sleep while praying that others would join this rally of their own free will. Sleep came easily, for the stress and fear growing in his heart had worn down his frame this day.

  "Lord Zlatan, please wake up. We've got a war to join." A firm hand shook the lord gently, with the respect due to a noble. The man lying against the wall next to his horse blinked as his vision adjusted to the dim evening light. Then he remembered his purpose and rose to his feet. He looked out and saw a company of fourteen souls assembled before him.

  "We haven't been a people of war for ages, but perhaps our skills will help turn this tide in combat." The words came from Rio, a woodcutter and builder. Next to him stood several of his older sons, men with wives and families of their own. The company included none of the true house guards and knights—Zlatan had personally asked them not to join his cause and to stay with the family and Thierry instead. The others came from mixed professions: a few hunters with solid archery skills, a stone hauler, and several more who carried a spear or two but had no special skill in the warring arts. Zlatan was nonetheless amazed at the turnout and honored by their commitment to the war effort. These were people from a peaceful society who answered the call of their own free will, ready to help their neighbors and march with their lord toward whatever ruin awaited in the abyss.

  "Thank you, men. I am honored that you have answered the call." They bowed their heads slightly as the Head of Hartford mounted his steed, ready to advance. House Hartford of White Falls had now entered the fray.