- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- 16:00-20:00 US Central
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Cyberpunk, Sci-fi, Fantasy, and other low-tech/fantasy.
Prologue
The voices were getting closer now, and Edmund could see the shadows of three men etched on the wall at the end of the hallway. Overhead the storm still raged, masking his footsteps as he hastened to the corner where the hall turned off to the left.
"You sure the garrison's cleared out?" One voice asked.
"They weren't expecting us," another replied. "Most got their throats cut in their sleep before they knew what was happening!"
The first man chuckled. His footsteps were closer now. Even over the din of the rain, Edmund could hear his leather boots scraping against the cold stone underfoot. He gripped his sword tight and rounded the corner, lashing out in a sweeping arc, catching the man off-guard. With a wet crunch Edmund's blade cut through the man's throat, lodging itself in his spine as the man's knees buckled out from under him. As Edmund dislodged his weapon from the man's neck, his companions took notice and began to charge down the hallway, spears clutched in their hands. Gripping the fallen man before he could collapse fully to the ground, Edmund threw the dead man in front of him, allowing his companion to impale him with his spear and send him staggering from the unexpected impact as blood sprayed out against the walls.
Deftly, Edmund shifted his weight to his right side and stabbed the second man through in a single, fluid motion, blade piercing his leather armor and ripping out the back with ease. Edmund cast a look over the body of the second man just in time to see the third following suite, his spear extended out in a defensive stance. Edmund let go of his sword and allowed the second man to fall limp, shaking and convulsing as blood filled his lungs. For an instant, only the sounds of the rain above and the spluttering, dying men on the ground could be heard. Then the third man let out a blood-curdling yell and lunged forward. Edmund, unable to urge his legs into motion, was pushed back as the spear pierced his right shoulder, tip leaving a gash as it sliced through leather and flesh.
Edmund raised a hand up and pushed himself off the spear, grunting in agony as the tip retracted. Before his opponent could react, Edmund fished his dagger from its sheath at his belt and, shoulder-first, lunged into the third man in a half-jump, sending them both to the ground. Edmund snarled, pinning the man as they collapsed to the floor. They struggled for an instant before Edmund sliced through the man's arm and managed a swift blow to his face, winding up on top of him.
"Where is the girl?" He spat, pressing his blade up to the man's throat.
"What girl?" The man asked.
"You know which one," Edmund retorted. "Where's Anne? Where are you taking her? Look at me!"
The man on the ground shook his head violently. Edmund growled and pressed his blade closer to the man's throat, drawing blood.
"Tell me."
"She's being held! In the main chambers! We couldn't get past her guards and-"
Edmund pressed his knife deeper into the man's neck and sliced to the bone, staggering to his feet and retrieving his sword from the slain soldier. He sheathed his dagger, wiped the blood clean from his sword, and began to hobble off toward the main hall...
Edmund
He could just barely make out the crest of the Highlands proper in the distance - hazy, craggy outlines standing out slightly darker than the grey mist around him.
And to think I called this place my true home once, Edmund mused to himself as he turned left when the main road ended. The ground was firmer here, but still dampened by the morning fog, dew clinging to the few tufts of grass that protruded from the grey-brown muck beneath. The town was just starting to bustle with activity as men and women were roused from slumber. He could hear voices calling out now, shuffling feet. The start to an otherwise uneventful day in an uneventful town in an uneventful part of the Iron Highlands.
If only they knew, he reflected as he arrived at a small, unassuming house at the end of the road. Casting one more cautious glance over his shoulder, Edmund knocked three times on the door. A slit in the doorway shot open and a pair of probing blue eyes stared back at him.
"You alone?" A raspy, low voice inquired.
"Always, Rast," Edmund replied.
The eyes peered left and right, scanning the surrounding area.
"Damn fog," Rast grunted, slamming the slit closed.
Bolts and chains could be heard unraveling from the other side of the door at Edmund waited patiently. When the door opened, Rast darted out, sword at the ready, staring intently at the hazy, empty village road.
"Is she awake yet?" Edmund asked, pushing aside Rast and greeting the other guardsmen in the house with a wave as he entered.
"No," Rast replied, shutting and locking the door behind Edmund. "Or she's just off reading again and pretending to be sound asleep in her bed."
Edmund chuckled.
"Aye, if I could read I wouldn't want to do much else with my time here either," Edmund said calmly.
"What's that?" Rast asked, shoving a dirty finger at the letter clutched in Edmund's hands.
"A message," Edmund stated plainly. "Some upstart miner's son has laid claim to all of Stratford and is rallying men to his cause. I'll inform our young lady when she comes downstairs."
"You won't tell her now?" Rast retorted, taking a seat by the hearth.
"She's still a child for a little while yet," Edmund replied, seating himself by Rast and unbuckling his sword. "Let her enjoy it."
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