Freidheim and Farenda's Campaign, page 1
Freidheim and Farenda’s Campaign:
Assault on Pagul
S. C. Coleman
© Copyright S. C. Coleman 2023, All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Summary:
Chapter One | Tales of Turncoats
Chapter Two | The Road of the Dead
Chapter Three | Infiltrating Pagul
Chapter Four | The Lightening Chamber
Chapter Five | The March of Shadows
About The Author | S. C. Coleman
Books in this Series | The Council of Strangers | Lighting Lanterns at Hohenburg | A Choice of Clear Crystal | Assault on Pagul
Books by This Author
Summary:
Following the events of the Glass Empires, Age of the Third Arcon, and Populla’s Shadow, Dawn of the Sun Panther, and the Pinnacle of the Winged Serpent, this book charts the course of familiar champions; thoughout their struggles across the Greater Continent, and beyond. Here, they will compete against many rival forces, all while attempting to keep the shadows at bay. This book charts a continuation of the stories of the Molinese General Farenda, the Crown Prince of the Hohen, the crystal ship from the Pinnacle of the Winged Serpent, and another special guest to join in their combined cause. Who will prevail, and who will succumb? Read further to find out...
Chapter One
Tales of Turncoats
The notorious General Farenda, of the infamous Molinese ruling House, had arrived at the Three Points. The General had already been disgraced and disowned by her sister, the Queen; after a writ was signed to remove Farenda from her House name. Yet, the General did not recognize the legitimacy of the writ, nor did any of her inner core of soliders; the veterans of the Protectorate. However, Farenda knew that not all others shared the same unbending loyalty, but none would dare question the position of the Red and Grey General; in front of her face, nor in front of her veterans, for fear of physical repercussion. However, Farenda’s army had grown significantly, since her stay at Lunskar. While she could trust her veterans of the long fallen Protectorate, she knew that her men were now greatly outnumbered by their apparent allies. Any quantity of the extra additions to her force could be harboring bad intentions; against herself and her veterans. Still, Farenda refused to become a paranoid recluse, and she trusted her loyal veterans to sniff out any plots that were brewing against her. On the other hand, Farenda understood that she now appeared frightened and cowed, due to her selection of headquarters.
Farenda had taken to finding a good tavern for her planning and preparations. Here, the one that was selected was in a basement. While the tavern at Lunskar had been found at the base of the tower, this one was a resplendent chamber that was unfortunately situated underground. Therefore, her enemies had taken to constructing humorous names at her expense, but the worst was the moniker of the Mole Tavern Wench; as it was said that she pleasured her men with drink by day, and with herself by night. Of course, none that were near to her put any stock in these claims, and Farenda wasn’t entirely worried about the damage to her own reputation. She was a military commander, for as long as she could remember, and she knew that such rumors were meant to bring damage to the reputation of her veterans. The position of herself and her veterans precariously rested on the fear that others felt for their capabilities. Should the fear of Farenda’s veterans become diminished, then her men would be hard pressed to retain order, stave off assassination, and defend others within the settlement. In fact, the Three Points, a city that rested between Klorn, Pagul, and Hohenburg, had been extremely easy to occupy. The whole place had become a ghost town, devoid of all visible life, while the remnants of a brutal carnage remained.
Just in the streets outside, a butcher’s shop had large gashes in its oak door, and puncture holes, as well as dents from a ram. Worse still, dented and scarred weapons lay throughout the streets, telling of a bygone struggle that had removed the inhabitants. In the state that they were in, few in Farenda’s company cared for the truth behind such tell-tale circumstances. Still, Farenda had requested that all be on the lookout, for anything that could shed light on what had eliminated the populace. On the other hand, such a request was mostly futile, since everyone already knew what had happened here. Farenda’s reason for leveraging to the charge of discovery was a tactical meneuvre, since she did not want rumors spreading that a similar fate awaited her, and her men. Instead, Farenda chose to attempt to direct attention away from the awefulness that had swept across this region, laying Klorn and the Three Points barren. Still, she knew that tarrying in this place would be folley. Already, talk of the Three Points curse was beginning to fester among the many ranks of auxiliary conscripts and volunteers.
While Farenda waited under the low ceiling of this basement tavern, which had space enough to fit thousands, she stood in front of one of its many blazing hearths. Along the walls of the tavern, numerous fire places could be found, elegantly constructed from stone and decorated with gold inlay. Unfortunately, at the places that jewels had been placed, only hollow outlines could be found, signs that previous wealth had been stripped from this estabilishment. At least, all things of value that could be easily had were gone from the Three Points. Oddly, Farenda would’ve prized those precious stones that had been stolen, more than she did the crystal amulet around her neck. Given to her by the Gardeners of Torburgen, at Lunskar, Farenda turned the amulet over in her hand; staring down at the wire frame, which housed a number of different crystals. Each of the crystals retained little monetary value, but Farenda wasn’t about to insult her allies by removing it. All of these crystals had been bound up into the shape of the tree, and were retained together with strips of copper wire. It was a cheap ornament, but Farenda valued the amulet for its symbol and gesture; since such a thing would be recognized by any of Torburgen. Despite the lack of any other significance, or use, as Farenda could tell; she kept it around her neck, and never took it off, as was requested by them, her allies. On the other hand, she felt a bit silly for doing so, almost like this amulet had taken a position of supersticion in her mind; and she always attempted to push such things away, knowing the damage that illogical fantasies could cause to any battle plan, tactic, or strategy.
Suddenly, the General was interrupted in her musings, when the door to the tavern opened. A group that Farenda recognized stepped into the light of the fires. Many of the faces belonged to her auxiliary captains. Command of the auxiliary was a title that had been provided to newly appointed Hohen commanders. The majority of these volunteer commanders were ineffectual and lacking in experience. On the other hand, many of her own veteran commanders accompanied this group, while two of her veterans dragged a beaten and bloodied soldier between them. The soldier, being dragged, wore the uniform of the Star Mercenaries, and this one was clothed in the blue hue, which represented that particular sect of the Blue Star. Additionally, this group that entered the tavern numbered fifteen, and Farenda knew that something unpleasant was about to greet her. This was apparent on the faces of her men, the captains of the auxiliary, and her veteran commanders; since they had already inflicted a bloody fate upon the captive that they had brought. It was strange, Farenda knew, to see a mercenary treated this way; in her new model army. Since she had welcomed any turncoat Star Mercenaries to her ranks, after a large number of them had been expelled from Hohenburg. However, Pagul was still their headquarters and stronghold, and she knew the time had come to address that particular issue. Still, she did her best to retain what few fleeting moments of calm that she could muster, by taking one last look at the roaring hearth, and the crystal tree trinket around her neck.
“Shadows greet thee, our glorious general, and may the crystal moon ever remain at our backs.” Commander Rulino winced at the last part of the greeting, an addition that few had become accustomed to, but Farenda insisted on its use. Such was done for the effort of welcoming foreign cultures that did not share the same reverence for shadows, as did the Molinese. Meanwhile, Commander Rulino had originally been called Captain Rulino, and Supply Master, but Farenda had done away with such excessive titles. This was done out of the desire that all appropriate tasks would be shared equally among her commanders, and to those they might delegate individual authorities. Such was the new make-up of her forces. Naturally, she knew that her auxiliary commanders resented their styling of ‘captain.’ On the other hand, they respected and feared the veteran commanders too much to make any note of it. As custom goes, any of Farenda’s commanders could initiate a greeting, and then all would have to wait for the General herself to reciprocate. Conversely, the auxiliary captains felt they had to wait for an introduction by one of Farenda’s veteran commanders. Such was the order of hierarchy in Farenda’s new army.
“Shadows greet you also, Commander Rulino, may the crystal moon ever be behind us.” Farenda flatly responded, and turned around to face the beaten captive. “What is the charge here, thievery? I trust that my commanders would not allow or new allies to be treated in such a way, without good cause.” General Farenda was feeling low just now, and hoped that this problem would soon go away, and these men might take their troubles with them. Farenda was tired, and she wished for any moment of respite that she could find; anything that might allow her to forget about current times, the countless battles that she had fought, and the endless line of faces that had been removed from the Continent.
“He is implicated in a plot
“You might rest an eye on it for yourself, should you so desire, General.” Commander Rulino stepped forward and offered up an unsealed scroll. Unfortunately, Farenda immediately recognized the sygil that had been stamped into the scroll’s broken wax seal. It was that of the Order of Populla, a snake intertwined within itself, and coiled around a rod. She had become more familiar with the Order of Populla, ever since one of their priests arrived at Lluwaire. Wherever that organization appeared, changes would be set in motion. When the priest first appeared at Lluwaire, he was the harbinger of all that brought Farenda and her men to this place. Naturally, she already knew what would be contained within the scroll, even before she beheld the artiful penned words of the parchment. The document was translated into Molinese and Hohen, but the paper’s mandate was very clear. It was calling for her own death, and subsequent execution of all her veterans from Lluwaire. The scroll contained many other objectives, possible assignments, and some suggestions, but it was otherwise unclear about specific details, or any other information that might assist in foiling the plot. Somehow, Farenda sensed that this document was supposed to reach her, and that fear of many coordinated plots were to plague her mind, and undermine her position at this place. She was intended to find this letter, and be undone by it. The General knew this psychological tactic and for what it had been intended. Indeed, she would have expected no less from those conniving members of that religious order at Molina. Laying the weaponized parchment on the table in front of her, Farenda turned to her captains and commanders. Sighing, she readied herself to face their many explanations and ideas of what to do.
“THAT GREAT BEAST OF the old wolf has come,” one of Farenda’s trusted veteran commanders approached her, without giving the appropriate greeting. However, as she was busy with a stroll through the newly inhabited city, she wasn’t perturbed by the lack of decorum. With few around, it was unlikely that any would take up the example of this commander, nor would such an action alienate their new allies.
“Fremet it is called,” Farenda replied absently, as she came to the river crossing. Here, a simple bridge marked the middle of the Three Points.
“Yes, a large raven it appears. Yet, never I have seen another of its kind.” The commander continued to speak as he stepped up to the bridge; next to his General. This commander knew it was better not to request the location of Farenda’s escort. She usually dismissed such protective measures, and prefered to stroll through secluded parts of her own domain without disturbance; which was the exact task set to this commander. Naturally, he had gained the general’s location from her dismissed escort, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to find her.
“So, commander...” General Farenda looked sideways at him, as she stepped up onto the arching bridge; which was still repleat with abandoned barracades and other kinds of hastily made obstructions. “Why have you come, surely it could not be just to report the whereabouts of birds, or other odd creatures passing through this place.”
“No, general,” the commander took a deep breath, and followed the general across the bridge. “The giant bird decided to raid the seed store, but we had already emptied it. There, we found him carrying this parchment.” The commander reached out and provided a scroll, which was plainly sealed with a piece of twin, but a hasty sygil had been drawn on the parchment surface. Apparently, no wax could be found for the appropriate sealing, so Farenda could have no idea how many might have read it. Either way, she cared little, as she suspected whatever was written needed little guarding.
“Hopefully you fed the bird,” Farenda continued to speak, as she unrolled the slightly damp parchment. The paper had gained a good quantity of moisture during the bird’s flight, and had not been protected by the usual wax and animal fat sealant that was applied to most bird bound parchments. “Fremet gets very ornary if it is not provided prompt nourishment.” Farenda gingerly held the letter, so that its moist bulk would not suddenly tear.
“Indeed, the bird did liberate a sausage from one of the auxiliary’s luncheon satchel, but afterwards we provided it with enough seed to choke a dozen horses.” The commander chuckled at his own joke, a gesture that was transitioned into a cough. The General did not reciprocate a show of amusement. She was busy with the poorly delivered paper. The two stood at the edge of the bridge, looking down at the fast moving river below, as Farenda unrolled the scroll and read it allowed.
“It says that Hoheim is being rejuvenated, still, and to provide a pardon for the lack of wax ceiling.” Farenda laughed rily as she glanced at her commander. Offended that she had not laughed at his joke, he simply stared back with a granite expression. Understandingly, Farenda returned to her scripture. “Apparently, Hohenburg is out of play, for now, as the city is ripe with internal conflict and fractional warfare. Therefore, the old wolf has sent a contingent to Black Bastion. Along with a uniting of forces from Torburgen, they plan to assault Black Bastion, and take charge of the crops there, and anything else that the company might possess. Still, the letter cautions vigilance against the Lantern Maker at Hohenburg, and the treasonous Trade Prince of Pagul. It also advises contrary to any moves against Pagul, stating it is not yet time for such an action.”
“Wonderously dark shadows surround us. How will they provide us with extra resources from Black Bastion, if Hohenbrug stands between us and them? Should they manage to take that impenetrable fortress, of course. I suppose they will just have to deliver such things through the long way. The reinforcing elements must arrive from the river.” The commander looked down, as he spoke, and carefully eyed the fast current of the rapids below.
“That is a bridge that we are not fated to cross.” The General’s words shocked the commander, and the stoicly trained military man did his best to hide this reaction.
“We are not to remain here, at the Three Points?” The commander was aghast, even as he watched the General let her piece of wet parchment drop into the river below.
“It appears that Molina does not have the forces to send our way. Either they are holding back, or such resources have already been spent elsewhere. It matters little, Pagul is the last bastion that our enemy holds. We must press our advantage, while the iron is still hot. When the time comes, no others may come to the aid of my sister, at Molina, nor the Lantern Maker at Hohenburg. Worry not, my dear Commander Abiono, we shall prevail yet.” Farenda smiled at her commander, before turning to cross the rest of the bridge.
“What of the west? What of the land beyond the mountains? What of the horsemen of Ulgar? Will they not be foes to reinforce Pagul?” The commander continued to press the issue. He had decided that he would take this opportunity to warn caution, obviously not desiring to leave the pleasant Three Points. After all, the place was left perfectly vacant for their occupation; and was still stocked with a good deal of trophies. Conversely, he ignored the fact that these were Hohen lands, and the Three Points did not possess enough supply for its new occupants. “Also, would it not be unwise to move into another unstable position, with so many spies among us.”
“Do not be a fool, Commander Abiono, these rumors of extensive plots are simply more tactics of fear, sent by our enemies. They wish to undermine our confidence. Their desire is to keep us from moving against Pagul. These rumors of plots and danger prove to be the very reason that we must.” General Farenda grinned as she looked at he commander. “Now, you might want to draw your saber.”
