Obligation's Unity

By Lauren N Sefchik

A people in danger.

A betrothal gone awry.

And a decision that could imperil her world.

 

Undead beings called Lobwendel have encroached upon the shores of Balforem threatening the Titanian's homes and way of life. In

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Sefchik
• Release date: Oct 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781734543933

Lauren N Sefchik

Lauren Sefchik is an Arizona native who avoids the sun by day, and conquers raid bosses by night. Her love for geek culture started with a video game system from the 70's, a set of polyhedral dice, and a team of heroines in sailor suits. She seeks an army of adventurers willing to journey with her to the furthest reaches of their imaginations with love, laughter, and a lot of mead!

Book preview

Title

This book is a work of fiction, in which all names, characters, locations, organizations, and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright @ 2020 by Lauren N. Sefchik

Map of Clayne designed by Lauren N. Sefchik

First Edition published in 2023

The right of LAUREN N. SEFCHIK to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Cover & interior book design by Damonza.

Editing conducted by Element Editing Services.

ISBN Hardcover: 978-1-7345439-4-0

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-7345439-5-7

ISBN Ebook: 978-1-7345439-3-3

For contact information and bookish updates, head to the author’s website at: www.sefchik.com

Contents

Content Warning

A Note To The Reader

Pronunciation Guide

Character Recaps

World map

Balforem

Anastas

Part I

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

Part II

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Read The Book That Started It All

CONTENT WARNING

Obligation’s Unity is an adult high epic fantasy story in an original world setting that contains darker content or themes that can be considered distressing. There are scenes that depict war, trauma, violence, murder, depression, attempted suicide, sexism, discrimination, racism, and enslavement. Other elements that are alluded to, discussed, or remembered by characters in flashbacks are infant death, spousal death, and sexual assault.

This warning might not be fully comprehensive to every reader’s personal experience or mental health limits. Please use caution and do what is best for you when making this selection part of your reading endeavors.

This book is not recommended for children.

To those battling the darkness.

Never let go of your light.

A NOTE TO THE READER

How italics are used in this book.

The world of Clayne has a variety of languages which differ between the races and regions. For this book, whenever you see dialogue in standard text, you may safely assume that is the Titanian language, Eldtun. If the dialogue is in italics, then a different language is being spoken. The narration will typically indicate which language the character has swapped to, and you might see some dialect or sentence variations based on a character’s fluency between one language and the next.

Some exceptions to this rule include sound effects and ship names, sound effects like chopping or ripping, or an emphasized word using the opposite text style. The context of the dialogue will provide sufficient support to show that the word is changed for such emphasis.

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

CHARACTERS - first names only

Lyonesse Falkr: LEE-OH-ness (author’s pronunciation)

Antoinette Hanmel: an-twuh-NET

Aoife: EE-fuh

Aveline Whelan: aa-VAH-leen

Brennan Sharp Eyes Donnelly: BREH-nuhn

Brianag Eversound Donnelly: BREE-uh-nak

Cathal Gaothaire the Indomitable: KA-hall

Conlan: KON-lәn

Dahlia: DAL-yuh

Desmond Gilchrist: DEZ-muhnd

Ephrasie: EE-fray-zee

Ewan Padrick: YUEN

Gowan Thündrhemar: ga-WAHN

Hildimar McKee: HILL-dee-mahr

Nathaniel Hanmel: nuh-THAN-ih-ehl

Petra Bergfalk: PEH-truh

Rathburn: RATH-burr-n

Reis Vanel: REES

Ròs Heskin of the Faefires: ROW-ss

Thomas Rickart: TOM-uhs

Wallis Yorath: WAHL-ihs

Wernjör: wur-n-YOR

Yural: YUR-ahl

TITANIAN PANTHEON

Caedmon (Warriors): KAYD-mahn

Danu (Fertility): dah-NOO

Drostan (Craft): DROH-stahn

Klaes (Hunt): KLAY-ss

Liadan (Souls): LEE-ah-dinn

Tavi (Fertility): tah-VEE

Vanora (Seasons): vah-NORR-ah

DEITIES OTHER

Arcandus: arr-CAN-duss

Bahnwei: BAHN-way

Nephiria: neh-FEER-ee-AH

Revanine: rev-AH-neen

Tridonis: tree-DAWN-iss

LOCATIONS

Anastas: ah-NAS-tass

Balforem: BAHL-FOHR-em

Bloðorn (Overwatch): bloh-THORN

Hvärstryker: HVAHR-stry-kerr

Melrakki: mel-RAH-kee

Nògr: NOH-grr

Nytherheim: NITH-uhr-haim

Seda: SAY-dah

Sütherhölf: SOOTH-er-HUL-ff

Veldt de Mar: VEL-dt-deh-MAHR

Ysile Marden: EE-sill MAHR-den

CLANS

Bounté: BOO-nt

Crò-dhearg: croh-YARIG

Den Casúr: denn-KAH-soor

Dūnom: DOO-nom

Sál: SOHL

Saeth: SAI-eth

NAMES (OTHER)

Adami: ah-DAH-mi

Æther: AY-ther

Croíeile: CREE-eleh Other Heart

Eldtun: әld-TOON

Fassi: FAH-see

Fretchval: frech-VAHL

Hrafn: H-RAH-fen

Levaldi: leh-VAHL-dee

Lobwendel: LOHB-wen-dell Rot Wanderers

Skivat: SKEE-vaht

Stora: STOHR-ah

Titanian: ty-TAN-yan

Trasaige: trahs-EE-geh

Character Recaps

KEY OF ARCANDUS SPOILERS

SIROUN Fatima (aka Beskonerynth) / ser-OWN (author pronunciation)

The main character in Key of Arcandus. A half-Adami, half-Dragomyr woman raised in the quaint village of Pustelia Crest on the continent of Niravad. Siroun is banished from her homeland when Felthane comes to steal the Map of Selvarethon which leads to a powerful artifact: The Sinefine Bible. As she journeys with mages from the Vanis Aer Æther Guild, she eventually learns that she is the physical recreation of a powerful deity that once terrorized Clayne eons ago. The Sinefine Bible is the ‘other half’ of her soul that was split in two, crafted by Arcandus and Xacnak. After the battle with Felthane, the goddess of souls, Revanine, dumps her off in Xacnak’s care in the port town of Caspia.

ZIKKY Halim-Isa of the Tumblewheels / zih-KEE

One of the three mages of the Vanis Aer Æther Guild, Zikky is a spunky Skivat who was once a Hive Lord of the Tumblewheels gang before joining the guild. At first, she’s only along to be the team’s bruiser of sorts. But as the journey progresses, she confesses her amorous feelings for Siroun and nearly dies protecting her. After the events in Ysile Marden, she is stripped of her guild membership, and the Hanmel Kingdom has a bounty for her capture. She now resides with Siroun in Caspia.

VALTER Rosario / VAL-tur

Also known as Valter Flynn Alexander Rosario VIII, an Adami duke of the Firenz region in Anastas, and a prominent elite ranking member of the Vanis Aer Æther Guild. Lord Valter was tasked by the king to hunt down Felthane and either kill or capture the warlock. Events took a turn for the worst when he and the team returned to Ysile Marden empty handed. Lord Valter was soon murdered in his guest chambers by Felthane disguised as a servant girl.

COLIN Lockwood / KAL-әn

Only child of Landon and Rachel Lockwood, who were researchers for the Vanis Aer Æther Guild. Colin volunteered to be part of the team that hunted down Felthane since the man tortured and murdered his parents to create the reliquary used to fuel the warlock’s powers. When the chase leads them all back to Ysile Marden, Colin insists on being the bait at the watchtower. He attempts the highly dangerous Kingman’s Curse spell, which fails to kill Felthane, forever trapping Colin’s soul in a frigid purgatory of his own making.

NIKOSTRAZ (aka Felthane) / NIY-koh-STRAH-zz, FELL-thay-n

His true identity is Prince Llyr Leonel Tristam Edward Hanmel, the original crowned prince of the Hanmel Kingdom until his brother, Phillip, betrayed and imprisoned him after their father’s death during the Finnean Rebellion. With a desire to reclaim his birthright, Llyr changed his name to Felthane, and hunted for a power that would allow him to single-handedly surpass that of mortal armies. He murdered the Lockwoods, who had acquired a diary that uncovered various leads to a world-breaking artifact known as the Sinefine Bible, which then led the to the events that took place within Key of Arcandus.

SEBASTIAN Di Mercurio / sib-AST-ee-әn

Son of the Archmage Arcandus, Sebastian has lived with the Vanis Aer Æther Guild his entire life, earning the rank of Councilor of Artifacts within the collective. Over the years, he has grown to resent Arcandus since the deity has never been present in his life, nor will the guild permit him to leave Ysile Marden to follow his own path. After the events with Felthane, Sebastian decides to pursue his own goals and desires. His current whereabouts are unknown.

NIAMH Martel / NIY-AHV

A Levaldi originally from Seda, but has been a student at the Vanis Aer Æther Guild for the past several years. She is also an assistant to Hjarta Castle’s royal army infirmary nurse, Maria. Despite her tenure as a student to the guild, Niamh is known more for her talent with medicinal herbs and triage over spell-casting. After the events at Ysile Marden her current whereabouts are unknown.

08_World-Map-Ebook09_Map-Balforem-ebook10_Map-Anastas-ebookdude

PART I

The Seeker

1

Blood dripped through the priestess’s fingers as she laid the dead warrior upon the muddied battleground. Sweat and blood clung to her hands and painted face while cries of scavenger birds circled above her awaiting their opportunity to feast upon the flesh of the fallen. Those who survived scoured the battlefield to check for the injured and cull any remaining undead. She whispered the fallen’s last rites and closed his sunken eyes. Ye shall live among yer brothers in Caedmon’s halls of ceremony, Orlen of Rúnefjall, and tell tales of glory until the end of days.

Once finished, Lyonesse stood and adjusted the neckline of her chain-mail vestments so that they were no longer tugging against the stray braided locks of her long auburn hair before trekking to the elderhorn war mount that awaited her. It snorted, stamping its massive draft hoof into the softened earth as she ran a hand down its painted white-and-chestnut muzzle. I know, Stora. Just a bit longer before we go.

Lyonesse turned to survey the land of a battle gone terribly wrong. They sacrificed many to hold this ground, but they could not afford to do it again. The shambling rot wanderers they called Lobwendel emerged from shorelines south of Rissenfel, forcing people to retreat west into the mainland and seek refuge near Caedmon’s temple. Somehow the Lobwendel overtook Nytherheim’s isles several weeks prior, felling Jarl Leif in the process, then emerged upon her home shores. Those who escaped their isle homeland did so by the skin of their teeth according to their high priestess. She shuddered to think what would happen to all Balforem if the undead struck deep into the heartland. If her jarl could not convince the high king to rally the support of every clan, they would all lose everything.

Another priestess rode up to her looking a little worse for wear and gave a nod of respect. Sister Lyonesse.

Sister Brianag.

Even if she was not mounted on an elderhorn, Brianag towered over her. True, Lyonesse was only a little over eight feet in height compared to the rest of her brethren who started at ten, but Brianag was a particular exception at nearly twelve feet, just behind her twin brother, Brennus. With her hair like twilight singed by the sun and pulled back into rows of war braids. Like Lyonesse, her physique was built for battle, but of a different kind. A bright white arrowhead-shaped tattoo etched with a filigree style marked vertically over Brianag’s right eye and cheek showed that she was the chosen herald of Klaes, God of the Hunt. She was draped in leathers and furs that kept close to her body like a second skin. Still, despite Brianag’s intimidating height, she carried herself with warmth and casual countenance to where it was impossible not to like her. Especially since they were the exceptions within the priesthood. While everyone else’s deities were about the hearth and land, the two of them served the art of blood and hunting. Making them the only ones built to join their jarls on the fields of battle if needed. Some might have considered that a curse, but Lyonesse called such intensity home. After all, she had worse issues to endure among her ilk.

Yer jarl sent me to summon ye. A wry smirk crept across her war-painted lips. Care to race?

Lyonesse gestured to the field of dead. What of the fallen?

I’m told the high priestess is sending her acolytes to perform last rites upon the field and clean it all up. Yer presence is being demanded now. Sounds pressin’, too. Jarl Cathal’s creases got real deep ’cross the brow when he made the request. She imitated the stony grimace while pressing her fingertips against her skin to exaggerate the lines in her own brows.

The gesture brought a smile to Lyonesse’s face as she sighed. Very well.

She did not feel comfortable leaving bodies of the fallen behind. These warriors were the very people she vowed to watch over. Few held the talent of knowing and naming every Titanian who took the battlefield like Lyonesse.

With a firm grip upon the saddle, and Stora offering one of her massive antlers as leverage, Lyonesse hoisted herself up and followed her escort. They rode westward from the shores, across rockier terrain and into the forest mountains of Rissenfel’s steeper elevations. Tips of greenery peeked through the snowy patches as the spring transitioned to their equivalent of summer. The biting cold only stayed away for a few months before the snows returned. In that time, the clans grew, gathered, or traded whatever resources they could access within their region to replenish their stocks. But this war with the Lobwendel would disrupt all of that, and she shuddered to think of a winter where sickness and starvation prevailed.

In the middle of those thoughts Lyonesse sensed a chill run down her back, causing her to take stock of the scant forest surroundings for any signs of the Lobwendel, only to find flocks of ravens as their only company. But it was not the birds that caught her attention as much as the dark specter that flickered among them in the distance. The second she blinked, the figure vanished. She knew her eyes did not deceive her.

Liadan? she whispered.

Did ye see something? said Brianag.

She rubbed at her forehead, feeling the heat of the delicate tiara-shaped tattoo the goddess marked her with during her pilgrimage—and it was not the only one. No, it was just the birds. Best we continue with urgency.

Both elderhorns picked up their gaits to climb the steep mountainside and through the sparse forests. The hours spent riding allowed Lyonesse time to reflect on the recent battle. Though not an elite centurion warrior herself, her role remained no less important to them, using her prayers to bring the clans strength and courage throughout the fight. However, for every Lobwendel that fell in battle, another took its place. Only magic of a most sinister nature held that power; and while most would argue that it was by Liadan’s making that these creatures encroached on their lands, her intuition sensed that was not the case.

They reached a nearby encampment tucked deep into the mountain’s bosom that once used to be a sacred hunting spot, now turned into a military base of their most recent situation. War-painted elderhorns and makeshift tents took nearly every inch of spare ground as Lyonesse navigated through what remained of their joint forces between Clans Crò-dhearg and Sál. Exhaustion weighed heavy as the warriors bandaged injuries, mended armor, and sharpened their blades. No matter how high their skills were in battle, the atmosphere of near defeat lingered in the air like the Lobwendel stench.

Lyonesse dismounted, guiding Stora through the throngs of Titanians who dwarfed her by comparison. Warriors with the pale yellow markings along their faces and arms, brandishing the telltale origins of Clan Dūnom, scattered among them. Proof that High King Wallis was at least trying to fulfill his oath of providing aid in times of crisis. She took note of the attendance, hoping dialogue between he, Cathal, and Brennus would accomplish a productive outcome despite her doubts. This situation required a unified front, but many of the clans did not want to risk losing their own numbers and make their regions vulnerable to enemies both at home and abroad.

When they reached the premise of an ancient hunting lodge, Brianag gave her a playful punch on the arm. I’m going to go look for something to eat, and maybe have someone ink this victory on my leg. Come find me when they’re done talking with ye. Before they parted ways, she then suddenly gripped Lyonesse by the shoulder and leaned in with a low voice. And don’t let whatever shit Ròs says to ye get under yer skin. This is her fault, not yers. That ‘Twice Marked’ crap she’s constantly spewing about ye has nothing to do with this.

Tell that to the others, said Lyonesse with an edge to her voice. But thank ye, I’ll keep that in mind.

With one more playful bump, Brianag parted ways, leaving Lyonesse to find a place to tether Stora before heading into the lodge. Her chain-mail skirts jangled as her boots tromped up the steps and into the smoke-scented abode where even the open windows could not fully air out the billowing bonfire in the center of the long hunting house. Cathal’s irate protests reverberated from the other side as he argued with High King Wallis while High Priestess Ròs kept quiet. It was not until her blue eyes landed on Lyonesse that she halted the conversation between the men with a gesture. The elaborate silver jewelry that dangled from her arms and fingers jingled as she moved.

Come, this concerns ye. Her mannerisms were so graceful and delicate, likely to balance her ridiculously elaborate headdress made of black raven’s feathers, silver, and precious stones. There was not a single thing about her that Lyonesse trusted. Still, the woman held the highest rank among the Sisters of the Vows that governed their entire priesthood, compelling her to behave, especially with the high king present.

Closing the gap between them all, Lyonesse took note of how all three behaved as she approached. Only she and Cathal appeared battle worn. While she did not expect much from Ròs on the front lines, she harbored greater expectations that the high king would make his presence known for the sake of solidarity. Yet, here the man towered before her, decked out in his finest layers of leathers, furs, and perfectly braided long beard, without having swung his axe once against the encroachment that would eventually threaten his lands, too. A fitting testament given how capable he was willing to use his battle-hardened talents to take what suited him and leave the rest to their own devices.

But the real question remained in what Ròs had said to her. Lyonesse lifted her brow in scrutiny. This situation concerns us all, if I’m not mistaken. Turning to Wallis, she asked, Will ye be summoning the clans to aid us?

Cathal tried to speak first, but when the high king moved to answer, he immediately silenced his tongue. There is another plan we’ve agreed upon.

Her gaze slid over to Cathal who wore a grim expression upon his face. Realizing that he was now being granted the opportunity to speak on the matter, he steeled his expression and looked her directly in the eyes. It has been suggested that our best chance to purge the Lobwendel from our lands is to look beyond our borders for help.

Look beyond— As soon as she went to speak the words, Lyonesse realized the subtle meaning behind them. Instantly, she turned her ire toward the high king. Ye refuse to help us?

Wallis did not look pleased by her reaction, but the man had already taken much from her in a time long buried in the past. She was not shy in calling him a coward.

Jarl Gowan has already made clear he will not take part in a fight he cannae win, said the high king with a heavy roll in his r’s, and Jarl Brennus’s hunters are too few to make a significant impact from what I saw—

Because he only committed a quarter of his forces, which is still a far cry more than ye!

Sister Lyonesse! Ròs’s voice chirped with a ringing pitch that forced one’s tongue to halt. My Twice Marked upstart, that is enough.

Twice Marked.

A nickname Ròs gave her after their pilgrimage together referencing an ancient tale on how a priestess visited by more than one god was a sign of great turmoil to come among their people. It was also a not-so-subtle accusation that Lyonesse somehow falsified Liadan’s black tiara-like tattoo across her forehead. Something the high priestess never let Lyonesse live down and, now with the Lobwendel on their doorstep, would never let die. The two women exchanged poisonous glares as Lyonesse failed to see how the high priestess was so calm about this endeavor. What about ye? Surely yer not in agreement that the clans abandon Nytherheim to the Lobwendel.

It was I who suggested it.

Had Lyonesse’s jaw not clenched up from rage, it likely would have dropped instead. Ye jest.

I do not. Ròs cocked her brow in a taunt to speak out further on the matter.

With Lyonesse stunned to silence, it allowed Wallis and Cathal to exchange glances of sorts. Whatever plans that were spoken next had obviously been decided upon before Lyonesse even got there. Clearly, her jarl did not appear happy about the decision that had yet to be fully revealed, but she could tell whenever he was compelled to fall in line with the high king’s whims to avoid more sinister repercussions. This was that moment.

Ròs provided me with some insight regarding the Hanmel Kingdom’s ever-growing reputation around the magic guild they harbor, said Wallis, which immediately caused Lyonesse’s eyes to widen. Her tongue compelled itself to remain still as Cathal gave her wrist a squeeze. This act of restraint only brought a wider smile to Ròs’s lips, making Lyonesse wish she could step over and punch the pretentious priestess in her pretty face. Given that the Lobwendel appear to be a force that is magical in nature, perhaps they will have more insight to provide, as well as appropriate forces that could act in service to this plight.

Now Lyonesse understood why Cathal appeared so cross. This was blasphemy. To have the high king and high priestess suggest such a thing defied reason itself. Ye would have us seek the aid of a people whose very nature risks angering the gods the moment they step foot on these lands? Has madness truly taken over the both of ye?

The gods’ wrath is upon us already, whether we wish to admit it or not, said Ròs in a most grim tone, and it was not lost on Lyonesse that all eyes were on her after the comment was made. Therefore, it was agreed upon that dealing with the Lobwendel is an affair best left to our two clans to handle, giving the rest time to prepare should we fail.

Ye intend to make Rissenfel the battleground by which to hold these monsters?

Priestess… Cathal’s words quelled her rage long enough to let him speak. This is our duty, and it would honor Caedmon greatly if we are victorious in his name.

He posed a good case. To fell the Lobwendel here, at the very doorsteps of Rissenfel, would honor the god of warriors greatly. Only it was the cost of that glory that worried Lyonesse the most. What of those within our city whose lives are not committed to the blade and shield? Are we to sacrifice them to this plan?

This region carries with it a swath of mountains by which yer people will find refuge should they require, said Ròs. Keep in mind that I, too, now rely on yer hospitality for what is left of my people; and all of them will take up arms to the cause.

Cathal cleared his throat to regain control of the conversation and steer it elsewhere. The bigger concern discussed was how to go about securing the Adami forces in the first place. Our relationship with the Hanmel Kingdom is tenuous at best.

They have wanted our metalwork for ages, said Wallis with an air of confidence, and they are believers in securing agreements by connecting bloodlines.

An eerie pause fell over the four of them, and it was not long before Lyonesse took notice of everyone’s gazes. Especially that of Cathal, who looked like he was both proud and incensed at the obvious conclusion of where this was headed. Immediately, she stood a little straighter and glared up at the high king. Me? Then she glared at Ròs. But I am needed here. Especially since it has been decided that only Clans Crò-dhearg and Sál will be tackling this crisis on our own. We have already lost Jarl Lief to the Lobwendel in Nytherheim, I will not risk leaving only to lose Jarl Cathal, too! Morgause will never forgive me if my absence is the cause of her croíeile’s demise.

There was a glint of pride in Cathal’s green eyes from Lyonesse’s protests, although she spoke those words with a hint of bitterness behind them. Morgause was always jealous of her for having such a close relationship with Cathal. Meanwhile, the same could be said that Lyonesse was equally jealous of the other woman for being fortunate to share his bed. It was a mutual disdain, but one tempered by bonds and oaths toward Cathal that kept them civil, if nothing else.

Wallis was quickly losing patience with her. While not an ideal circumstance from any angle, ye are the best option. Ye and Priestess Aveline are the only two who would be able to fulfill this task; but we require the priestess of seasons to remain here with the harvests to ensure their success. Plus, who better to plead this case before their king than one who has been upon the battlefront and can describe their horrors.

I don’t even speak their language.

Yer jarl said he can tackle that problem, and yer lacking height will be a closer match to their kind. Besides, ye have gone through too many moon cycles untethered. It is about time that someone who is reaching beyond their prime find themselves a hearth and home to cultivate.

Her chest swelled with rage. If the gods had not placed this insufferable man into the seat of the high king, she would have slit his throat where he stood. It did not help quell her anger when Ròs added, Be honored, Twice Marked. For this is an opportunity to amend the dark future yer existence portends.

Lyonesse’s nails dug deep through her gloves and into her palms as she balled up both hands. Unable to mask her contempt only brought Ròs further satisfaction while Wallis pretended not to take notice. Then it is settled. Ye will accept this monumental task on behalf of yer people, Priestess of Caedmon?

Stares of expectation weighed upon her like a boulder being carried uphill. Through gritted teeth and contemptuous eyes, Lyonesse mustered her self-control and answered with measured tone. If this the path I’m meant to walk, then I shall accept the will of the gods. Her eyes then fixed directly on Ròs. And I will succeed.

She did not give them the pleasure of allowing them to make added remarks or even the satisfaction of a formal dismissal. Instead, Lyonesse turned on her heel and marched out of the hunting lodge. Every step of her boot echoing off the wooden floor like lone cracks of thunder as a reminder to the pair that this would not be their moment of glory in the days to come, but hers.

2

Lyonesse burst open the doors from the lodge and stormed down the steps toward the closest tree she could find. In a single swing, her fist cracked against the iron-hard bark as pain ripped through her hand and up her arm. With gritted teeth, she allowed this moment of release to dissipate before pressing her head against the mighty oak and took a deep breath to find some semblance of calm.

She did not want to leave her homeland for the sake of this gambit, but feared the repercussions of refusal more than the unknown. With a heavy sigh, she pulled away from the tree and trudged over to Stora who was enjoying the grazing period in peace. The elderhorn’s ears twitched in Lyonesse’s direction and the steed picked its head up to give her a nudge of its muzzle in greeting. Lyonesse stroked the beast’s nose. Looks like I am heading on a new adventure, my friend.

Stora tilted her head and snorted before returning to chewing on the grassy shoots.

I gotta admit, lass, that be a brave thing ye did in there. The voice popping up from behind made Lyonesse snap around only to find Cathal giving her a smile rife with concern.

She mirrored his expression before returning her attention to Stora. It’s my only choice. What, with the high king implying I’m an old maiden for not taking a croíeile by now.

Lyonesse…

Her eyes widened at the informal address of using only her first name. Cathal cleared his throat. I mean, Priestess Lyonesse.

But the mistake had already been made, and her cheeks stained an embarrassing shade of red. She rubbed at them in hopes the color would go away to no avail. The question that followed after only made it worse.

There be a reason why ye haven’t taken a croíeile?

Not wanting to answer, she gave an unintelligible nod while removing Stora’s saddle and reins. Where she was headed, she would rather let Stora live out the rest of her days in freedom. However, she could feel her jarl’s gaze upon her, compelling her to say something if only to move the conversation to other matters. I am not the only unbound priestess suitable for the Adami. The high king did not mention Priestess Brianag. Her croíeile took ill years ago, and still she remains with an ‘uncultivated home and hearth.’ Even one of the high king’s own daughters would be more appropriate.

I suspect she is considered well past her prime at a hundred and thirty-two. And ye know as well as I that ol’ Wallis would never agree to such an idea.

With the last of Stora’s equipment unlatched, Lyonesse set it all on the ground. He speaks to us priestesses like we’re nothing more than blessed birthing chattel, she muttered.

That brought a chuckle from her jarl, who then cleared his throat to stop as he fished for an excuse. When ye sit on the greatest seat of power dedicated to the gods of fertility and rebirth, cultivating the hearth and home is an understandable priority.

The truth made her click her tongue in disgust, but he was right. Their people struggled frequently to survive over the eras that it made sense to prioritize the security of succession by ensuring all played their part in continuing the next generation. Unfortunately, that meant that those who served the deities who snuffed that life away were often snubbed in conversations of war and peace between both the clans and their northwestern nemeses, the Rokür.

While she finished fussing over the saddlebags, she noticed Cathal surveying their immediate area before he reached over and took her by the chin to have Lyonesse face him directly. His smile lit up seeing the blush on her sun-kissed, war-weary face. My dear lady, ye would be spoiled on an old man like me.

She frowned. It doesn’t matter now.

If I may, Priestess. He extended his arms and embraced her lovingly. This gesture she gratefully accepted and buried her face against his chest. His huge frame enveloped her like a warm blanket by the fire. It pained her to leave his side. Despite trying her best to hold back the tears, a few found their way upon the leather and iron of his bloodstained armor. Eventually, she backed away and dabbed at the mist in her eyes while he looked upon her with admiration, and she could only stifle a chuckle, finding humor in such an awkward moment between them. Jarl Cathal gave her a ginger tap under the chin to get her to look up again. Ye may be bonding for an alliance, but don’t let those Small Feet pawn off a weak-willed boy… that would only insult Caedmon in the end. Wouldn’t be a good thing.

I will not disgrace Caedmon’s demands of me.

He nodded in approval before shuffling feet approached, ending the private moment between them. Lyonesse looked around the jarl’s side to find a young woman being brought over by one of his centurions, who went by the moniker of Walker. She was decked in chains and a metal collar. The bespectacled slave appeared on the younger side of adulthood, with dark wavy chestnut hair nearly mimicking a raven’s feathers, and brown eyes that contrasted her cream-colored skin. The semi-tipped ears marked her as an Adami, but the way she stood tall and stared her Titanian captors directly in the eyes indicated that this slave might have been something more back home.

Ach, here we go, said Cathal with cheer in his voice as he gestured at the woman only to have her scowl at him in return. When Centurion Walker yanked on her chains, she had no choice but to step forward. This is Petra. A native of Anastas, and fluent in both our language and that of the Small Feet. She is yers as a gesture toward yer impending success.

Lyonesse swallowed hard as her eyes shifted downward from Cathal to Petra, and back up to him again. I’m sorry, my jarl, I think I misheard ye. Yer granting her to me?

Aye! A hearty bout of laughter belted from him. Ye need a tutor, and she has the skills to aid ye in facilitating this alliance. Think of this as a preemptive gift for yer future croíeile!

While not abnormal for slaves to live among her people, they were not prevalent. Most of them were often dumped off in additional trade by a higher authority from their own homelands. Lyonesse had never taken one into her care, until now. Her stomach tightened while glancing down at Petra once more, a steely gaze of contempt reflecting in the woman’s eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip before shifting her attention to him again. Jarl Cathal.

What is it, my priestess?

I don’t think— She shook her head only to see Petra’s eyes widen with uncertainty. Despite the glare of hatred coming from the other woman just seconds ago, Lyonesse thought that she picked up on a hint of fear the moment she was about to refuse Cathal’s gift. To that, she raised a brow and continued. —that I’ll have the resources to support a slave. However skilled she might be.

I thought ye might say that. For someone who was about to lose his strongest voice to Caedmon, he was quite jovial, and oddly prepared, as he gestured for Centurion Walker to hand over a sizable chest. When opened, it revealed to be full to the brim with gold and other valuable trinkets, some of which Lyonesse recognized as spoils of war from when they engaged in battles with the Rokür tribes. Jarl Cathal grinned when he saw the initial look of worry on Lyonesse’s face transform into stunned silence. Petra also eyed the treasure, and the priestess worried about contending with whatever cunning resided within the bespectacled woman’s mind.

The centurion closed the chest and fastened it with a lock before Cathal pulled a key from a small satchel along his hip and handed it to Lyonesse. "My contribution to the mission. Use it to finance yer campaign, and to keep up