“If you walked back into your clan hall, do you expect me to believe that they would not welcome you back immediately?” Gierig asked despite already knowing the answer, “Your death will be felt deeply. A small measure of satisfaction for the wounds your clan has inflicted on mine. A great many of my ancestors died at the hands of yours. When we sought to redress these crimes, those who came to the court were banished for daring to speak out against your leadership.”
Knowledge glimmered in Ritter's eyes, “Then I know who you are from this twisted tale. I have been told a very different story of what happened. I will not claim that either are entirely true or right. The time for petty revenge is over.”
“It will never be over until all of your clan is slain.”
“Anger cannot guide you forever. Most of your clan has put the anger behind them. I know they have outcast those who still hold on to the old grudge. This certainly explains a great deal. Yet even today revenge will not serve you, Gierig of clan Silveraxe. The puzzle box held a prize that you seek dearly, I am afraid. You should have taken the time to look.”
“I can think of no prize that will forestall my revenge!”
“You know who sealed that box, and you know the stories of the clans and their history,” Ritter said, “The very symbol of your clan rested there.”
Gierig could not help himself but to turn and look. He saw the auction master rushing out back with his prize. He could see enough to know that Ritter was telling the truth.
“This only gives you a temporary reprieve,” Gierig snarled, “Fate was with you this time. You will not be so lucky when next we meet.”
The treacherous Halz rushed off after the Agonish auction master. Ritter clambered to his feet. He knew that Gierig could not allow an ancient artifact of the clan to escape him. Ritter's armor had saved him. The time it would have taken to slay Ritter instead of slowly wounding him might have given the Agonish man time to get away from Gierig. With warhammer and shield in hand, he waded into battle to aid Enzi.
***
Eurysa entered the tent to see a great many soldiers on the ground. Aldebaran and Kava had their guard up, yet everything seemed calm. Enzi looked exhausted but otherwise unharmed. She saw no sign of Gierig.
“You need rest,” she hissed at Enzi.
“Perhaps,” Enzi said, “I'm not as young as I used to be.”
“I was actually quite impressed at your martial skill,” Ritter said appreciatively, “I have seen few people fight that well without weapons, let alone if age has affected your skills.”
“So the traitor escaped?” Eurysa asked.
Enzi nodded, “And the auction master. I thought he seemed too excited to see our two Halz.”
“This was organized well in advance,” Eurysa said as she motioned to the lifeless snake she had draped behind her head, “They brought in the magehunter that we encountered before to give us a difficult foe.”
“What of those that came for the auction?” Enzi asked.
“They fled, but saw our fight. I can not imagine that it will look good for us,” the gorgon reported, “We should leave immediately.”
Concurring, Enzi led the others to their wagon. There he saw the wounded and exhausted Mayitso laying in the back. Enzi turned and surveyed the slaughter grimly. The mercenaries climbed into their wagon and rolled off back towards Center Point. Enzi wondered how much the witnesses had seen and how they would interpret it. Yet, it was no time to try to explain it to authorities. They would see the group as monsters and nothing more. Several of the members of the Irregulars had been through tough times such as this before. Their reputations would never be pristine.
Ritter, however, now truly intrigued Enzi. A prince among the Halz, heir to the leadership of the Platinum clan. His education in engineering as well as his well-honed combat abilities spoke of someone who had access to excellent teachers. He was too young to have gained all that knowledge without coming from a family of at least some wealth. Enzi had originally suspected that Ritter had merely come to the surface to prove himself, but now Enzi began to suspect Ritter's motives were indeed honest.
Long groomed for leadership, if Ritter gained experience of the world it would indeed be possible for him to sway the politics of the Halz. A great sadness then swept over Enzi. Ritter had seen little of the human race to inspire him. The Irregulars fought the most troublesome of foes, the most corrupt of what humans had to offer. Those were understandable. However, it was the respectable foes that were the true travesty of humanity. The ones that still did terrible deeds despite their many redeeming qualities. Some did them in the name of their country. Some for noble ideas. Many were misguided, blind to the truth of the world around them.
The Feergrus man decided that it was long past time that he talk with the Halz. His own past had led him down the wrong path. He felt that perhaps he could give Ritter an insight into the troubles of the human race and how the two races could work together. If nothing else, Enzi felt it was time for the two to get to know each other. Even though Gierig had proven that not all Halz had honor, this dwarf was trustworthy.
***
The Kurrot man trodded through the grass. It was stained with blood. That reminded him of the Blood Plains in his homeland. The grass there often seemed to have a red tint. So much blood had been spilled there that the ground was renowned for it. It was the most fertile area of Kurrot and it was commonly said that it was the blood that made the grass grow. The patches of Razor Grass merely helped the reputation of the area. The blades of that deadly plant were like sharpened steel and had bled out a great many fools who ran without looking where they were going.
Naphar Bura paused as he saw the fallen man before him. Like so many of the bodies, he had his throat torn out by a great beast. Yet this man was different. He wore white face-paint in the shape of the Agonori letter M. It was a magehunter. Such a foe would be difficult to defeat. The white-robed Kurrot found the silver dagger the Agonish man had used and noted the blood on the blade.
Within a few minutes the Kurrot had constructed a vision of the battle that had happened. Eyewitness accounts had given him some clues, and the scene told him the rest of the story that he wanted to see. This was the tale of uncontrolled monsters. The slaughter of innocents was plain in the eyes of the man. He was a Cleanser, a monster hunter. He had come to find a slain magehunter, three dozen soldiers, and an auctioneer.
The auctioneer had been the worst. He was an unarmed innocent. His clothes marked him as a member of the Rava Coast Trading Company. They would not be pleased to learn of the Ravaleian man's death. Naphar found it odd that the group had taken the time to hide that body, unlike the many others. The details of their plan did not matter to the Kurrot. He had his own mission.
Then his eyes came alight with joy. He had seen something actually useful. He knelt down and grasped the odd thing he had found, lifting it to look closely. It appeared to be the head of a snake, but it was unlike any serpent the Cleanser had encountered or read about. He knew immediately that it must have come from the head of the gorgon. He decided to try to confirm that fact when he next spoke with his information source in Center Point.
He noted that the snake head did not have its own eyes. That meant that the gorgon did not have any extra range of vision. Opening the mouth, he examining the fangs and noted that there were venom pouches for them, similar to what you would find in a venomous snake. He would have to see whether he could get the venom analyzed. His knowledge of his foes would grow. The slaughter what he had found proved to him that these were not foes to take on until he was ready and had the advantage.
“Keep making mistakes,” the Cleanser muttered, “Soon enough your time will end. Each crime you commit grants me allies and resources. Each mistake gives me an advantage to use against you. Someday I will be in the position to end your threat. Permanently.”
Enzi's Irregulars #0015
Eurysa was busy with target practice. She was experimenting with differe
nt ways of keeping her one dead snake from compromising her aim. Kava and Aldebaran were busy sparring. Mayitso had found a quiet area to rest and recover. Enzi made his way over to Ritter. The Halz was busy cleaning his armor, but the Feergrus knew he would likely not find a better time.
“Lets talk,” Enzi said with a serious tone.
The dark skinned human motioned for the dwarf to follow. The Disputed Lands provided plenty of cover, and Enzi had found a nice grown over clump for the two to sit behind and discuss their pasts. It was hard to tell what the small mass had once been. It could have been a forgotten wagon, a pile of corpses, or many other things. Whatever it had been, now it was enough shelter to hide from prying eyes for a short time. It also helped to shelter them from the cold winds when they sat on the lee side of the mound.
“You have been a part of the Irregulars for many months,” Enzi stated, “Soon winter will truly let loose and coat these plains with snow. We often get our most dangerous missions in the winter. Few groups wish to dare the freezing temperatures. Mercenary jobs are dangerous enough without such complications. We may not have time to discuss things once we get back to Center Point.”
“I assume you would like to know what the heir of the Platinum Clan is doing topside?” Ritter asked with the angular smirk his stony face allowed.
“Actually I thought we would both share our pasts,” Enzi replied, “You know as little of me as I do of you. Plus it would be good to know if we have any more surprises in store for us.”
Ritter chuckled, “I certainly didn't expect to see another Halz, and certainly not one with a grudge. I suppose I should start my tale at the beginning, the event that made my people they way they are today. I can only tell this tale as I have heard it. I have seen hints that all the clans have their own views on these events. Gierig certainly showed that some views are more extreme than others.”
“As well as showing that not everyone can forgive and forget,” Enzi said with a knowingly sad look in his yellow eyes.
“The tale of the Halz begins and ends with a city,” Ritter stated with a wistful look of his own, “The great capital of all our people, the metropolis of Tralenheim. It was built over four thousand years ago. It was a place that all the clans were welcome, though we still each had our own great hidden cities as well. It was the seat of the king as well. In the capital, the clans could easily trade with each other, as well as arrange marriages and other deals to make the Halz one united and strong people.”
“The great cave that held the city had everything a Halz could want. A great underground lake had formed there. It glittered green in the light. We called it Lake Emerald. It was fed by what we called the Waterfall of Jewels. Near the lake were the great mushroom fields that fed our clans. In the center of the cave was a great pit. It was from there that we mined adamantine. Yet it was none of these things that truly made Tralenheim great. There was one reason that the Halz gathered and made a city and one alone.”
“It was the Forge of Souls,” Ritter said with a sense of awe, “For as long as my people had existed, it was an artifact of legend. The Soulforge Clan was named for the myth and had long been our greatest artisans. When the artifact was discovered, all the clans sought to claim it. It was one of the Soulforge Clan that made the treaty that made Tralenheim possible, a Halz we now call Strongarm Clanfather. All clans were to be equal with an elected king to administrate. He was the first king of the Halz. Most of the successors were of the Platinum Clan, though we had many blood ties to the first king.”
Ritter's words were tinged with sadness again, “We did not have the city for even twelve hundred years. The forge was powered by magma and something went wrong. Lava devastated the city. The clan hall of the Soulforge was the worst hit, as they lived closest to the source. The Silveraxe Clan was also hit hard. Emerald Lake helped halt the advance of the lava towards the hall of the Goldbeard clan. The Platinum Clan hall sat across the mining pit from the source and like the Goldbeard we escaped relatively unscathed from the disaster. The Diamondheart Clan was hit nearly as hard as the Silveraxe Clan, except that they could escape up the Sapphire Staircase to the source of Lake Emerald.”
“The Stonehammer and Orcdoom halls were far enough that any living in them could have escaped easily. Unfortunately, they made up a lot of those that worked in the mining pit. The magma flowed over the easiest escape from there, leaving thousands of Halz trapped until the heat and fumes of the lava killed them. This tragedy changed our people. Blame was thrown around for the catastrophe. Many blamed the Soulforge for trying to run the Forge of Souls too hard. All of us have hard feelings towards the elves who did not fulfill the duties of our treaty with them.”
“The Silveraxe had a different target. They blamed the Platinum Clan for their pain and suffering. We ran the administration of Tralenheim and held the seat of the king when the tragedy came. We denied funding to a great many projects that were seen as a waste. Those hit the hardest by this were the Silveraxe Clan. Their projects were always designed to give them superiority over other clans in whatever area they were trying to horn into that day. Yet they also had several odd requests that made little sense to us at the time. They wanted to build great bridges across the pit and over inhabited areas. They wanted to make great streets that were easy to traverse.”
“We saw no benefit to this. The system we had set up within the metropolis worked quite well. The materials from the pit had a direct thoroughfare to the forges. We saw nothing else that needed to be so expedited. However the Silveraxe Clan would constantly speak of the rulings being an impediment to progress and safety. When the magma came, they saw themselves vindicated. Their great roads and bridges could have saved a great many Halz. The Silveraxe Clan stated that the Platinum Clan had denied the funding despite the potential disaster that the magma presented.”
They wanted restitution for their dead, as well as restitution for the dead of all the other clans,” Ritter said as his tone showed some aggravation, “It was this that lost them the support of the other clans. The Silveraxe Clan wanted it all for themselves. Their greed had swept their moral high ground from beneath their feet. The other clans might have been willing to listen if the Silveraxe Clan had been willing to share and help others. Instead they merely reminded everyone why their many extravagant requests had always been turned down.”
“That did not stop them. In fact it brought us to the situation that created a Halz like Gierig. Only a few of the Silveraxe Clan held their extreme views. No one dared speak against them because they held the great symbol of the clan. It was a magical axe that had given the clan its name. Its power was extreme, perhaps more than the artifacts held by the other clans. It was like the whole clan was under a spell when that axe was presented before them. The wielder of the axe attacked the home city of the Platinum Clan.”
“The assault on the city of Carmarthan was seen as the ultimate insult. The small force seemed unstoppable until the leader was disarmed. Without the magical silver axe it seemed all their will to fight faded. The axe was taken and sealed away. Those that led the assault were banished from the lands of the Halz. The rest of the Silveraxe Clan was embarrassed by their actions and upheld the banishment. Those few Halz that were banished took their families and were never seen again.”
“Until now,” Enzi said breathlessly.
Ritter nodded, “As well as the great axe. I was stunned to see it. It had been lost for generations, much like the ancestral relic of the Platinum Clan. I knew that no one of the Silveraxe Clan could dare let it get away, especially not in the hands of a human. It has the power of being not only a symbol, but true power as well.”
“That is something that worries me greatly,” Enzi replied, “I have some experience with magical items. The more powerful they are, the more dangerous they can become. Age also has a tendency to increase their potency. This comes with an increasing price. To my ears, your tale speaks of an item that has become extraordinarily dangerous. It already affected the
mind of those that wielded it. Excessive greed, a need for domination, ideas that were taken to an extreme. I have seen magical items take a minor quirk of a person and turn it into the driving force of their lives. Worse, when it comes into the hands of another, those same drives appear in that person.”
“Even if they have never had such drives before?” Ritter asked.
Enzi nodded solemnly, “Even the most innocent can be corrupted.”
“Then are the Magehunters right? Is magic corrupt?”
“I can not claim to know for sure. However, magic often falls into the hands of the powerful and corrupt. It is hard to say if it is their corruptions that twists the magic or if magic itself has some of the blame. In the end, it matters little. The items become corrupt and can then corrupt those that use them. As time passes, their corruption grows stronger.”
“That is something to worry about,” Ritter replied thoughtfully, “Though I am not sure what we can do about it at this point.”
“True enough,” Enzi said, “I expect that your tale is not yet done, however.”
Ritter chuckled, “Yes, you are right. My tale is of the Halz, and not yet of me. I have not yet even reached eighty years of age and the tale I told is of things that happened over three thousand years ago. Yet that was an important part of the tale, as you can see. After all the excitement, things calmed down for many generations. Trade between the clans slowed down until it was rare to see a Halz that was not of your own clan. Our numbers slowly dwindled as blood ties became closer. Without outside blood, marriages were something we had to be very careful of. Being too closely related could cause severe problems with fertility.”
“Expeditions were sometimes sent to explore the potential of reclaiming Tralenheim. None were ever successful. This was the world I was born into. My father had been Clanfather of the Platinum Clan for nearly three decades when I was born. His father had been the Clanfather before him, and it was expected that one day I would take my place as leader. I spent much of my young life learning. I was coached in the intricacies of mathematics and engineering. I was trained by the greatest warriors of our clan. In my studies, I also saw the hard work of the wedding planners.”