22. Massacre at Rock Hill

22. Massacre at Rock Hill

“You really won’t continue the story?” Adam asked, grumbling as he followed the Iyrmen through the thick forest. He focused on not tripping over the various trigs and bushes all around.

“You will hear the rest of it in due time,” Tazwyn said, smiling back towards Jurot.

“You must not rush a good story,” Jurot said, repeating the words he had heard countless times within the Iyr. He glanced at Adam, understanding the itchiness the half elf was feeling.

Hearing half the story would have drove him wild too, but he was in the fortunate situation of having heard one of the most important stories countless times. It was never boring to hear the stories again as everyone recounted it differently. The substance didn’t change, but the way the person orated certainly brought out different emotions.

The main road continued through it the thick forest, dividing it forest into two. The right side had been cut quite some ways, about a hundred metres, and there was a fence which ran along it, whereas the left side was forty metres away, with no fence.

The left forest was the same forest he and Jurot had been adventuring within, and seeing as that the forests continued along the main road for so long, Adam couldn’t help but realise their large size.

It was most of the way through their day when Argon grunted something to Tazwyn. She looked to Eshva and Kandal, who slipped away, disappearing into the trees.

“Be careful,” Argon said to the pair of youngster, not elaborating further. The group continued along, though Jurot and Adam stepped slightly closer together, fingers creeping towards their weapons, and Dargon stepped back slightly, becoming their shield from behind as his role entailed.

It was long later when the bushes swayed and the two returned, seeing Adam with his blade drawn, and Jurot with his axe. Jurot had only done so because he had heard the steel being drawn beside him. The two Iyrmen grunting something to Argon, causing Jurot to place his axe aside, and the group continued along as though nothing happened.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked. ‘I really need to learn their tongue.’

“A Watcher,” Argon replied back, as though that explained everything to Adam.

“A what now?”

“The Order of Wings,” Argon elaborated, though that didn’t elaborate anything to Adam.

‘Seriously, this guy.’

When they approached the camp site, with its half walls and a lightly lit fire, five figures were revealed. Each was adorned in armour, carrying a variety of weapons at their side.

‘Adventurers?’ Adam thought at first, but seeing them caused him to doubt his initial assessment.

There was an older woman, in her early forties, with tan skin, brown eyes, and short red hair, which was sprinkled with grey. Her armour was full plate mail, nearly pure black, except for the years of wear and tear painted all across it. At her side was a helmet, fashioned with a peculiar pattern of some avian. Adam noted the longsword, warhammer, and shortsword within arm’s reach.

The other four were wearing breastplate, grey in colour, with a bird’s face printed on the front, and their helmets were plain and typical. They were much younger than the woman in black, in their late teens and early twenties. Two women and two men, the youngest being a boy in his mid teens, barely a man. Each wielded a variety of weapons, just like the older woman.

“Greetings, Sir Magpie,” Argon said with reverence, bowing his head slightly as he waited outside the camp.

“Greetings, Iyrmen,” the older woman said, flashing a smile. “I should have expected we’d meet, considering the time of year.” She motioned an arm towards the camp, inviting them to sit.

Adam glanced between them all, noting the symbols on their breastplate. “Order of the Wings, I see,” Adam said, chuckling. “Very on brand.”

Jurot, on the other hand, was beaming as he stared at them. “I am Jurot, son of Surot!”

“Sir Magpie,” the woman replied. “An Iyrman who has just left the nest, I see.” She looked to Adam. “Who is this?”

“Adam, son of Fate.”

“Fate? You respond like an Iyrman, but you don’t seem like one considering you’re keeping your face covered. Do you have something to hide?” Magpie joked.

“Yes,” Adam replied back, raising his helmet to reveal his face, with his feyful features on full display.

The youngest glared at Adam and reached for the sword at his side, but found the butt of Sir Magpie’s warhammer pinning his hand to the hilt.

“I was afraid something like that would happen,” Adam said with a light chuckle. “I see you don’t like elves.” The half elf raised his brows.

“You bas-“ The boy yelped as Magpie pushed the butt of the warhammer against the back of his hand a little harder.

Adam raised his brow, having not expected such a hostile reaction right away.

“I hope you take no offence,” Sir Magpie said. “He has yet to complete his training.”

“Well he’s very lucky he wasn’t able to draw his sword, otherwise I would have had to help him complete his training.” Adam clapped his hands together and chuckled lightly.

Sir Magpie raised her brows in surprise towards Adam, having not expected such words. “You’d fight one of us?”

“He’s no Iyrman,” Adam said, glancing at the young man, before returning his gaze to Magpie. “I hope you take no offence.” Adam’s lips grew into a wider smirk, beaming at them playfully.

“Bast-“ The boy yelped once again, wincing as Magpie dug the butt in deeper.

“Enough,” Magpie said, withdrawing her warhammer. “I’d like to see you draw your sword with me beside you.” She glared at the boy who withdrew under his mentor’s sight.

“I get a lot of suspicion cast on me, but this is the first time that someone is outright hosti-“ Adam paused for a moment to think. “Well, no, there’s that one guy from before too...”

“He’s one of the few survivors from the massacre,” Sir Magpie said, as though that had explained everything.

“A hundred thousand or so,” the red haired woman said. “It was on the edge of the Kingdom, and people preferred Red Oak over it.”

“Wow.” Adam blinked. One hundred thousand people? Almost all of them dead, just like that? In three days?” He shook his head. “Why?”

“There was no reason.” The boy growled, clenching his teeth, his brows twitching in rage.

“Every side has two stories,” Adam said, looking to the Iyrmen. They would know, considering how many Iyrmen they had lost.

“The King had placed five thousand soldiers at Rock Hill, and a thousand in Red Oak,” Argon said. “There were another five thousand who were going to head to Ever Green, where the previous King’s Sword retired.”

“The previous King’s Sword retired to Ever Green?” Adam asked, though quickly brought his curiosity back to the massacre. “Why did the King move so many soldiers towards the towns near White Forest?” Adam assumed Ever Green was near the elves too. “Surely he understood what that would look like.”

“The reason which had been publicly stated was to strengthen the south against invasions.” Argon shook his head slightly.

“The King provoked the elves,” Magpie said, adding more twigs to the fire, “and the elves retaliated against what they thought was a build up to an imminent invasions. No doubt they didn’t want the King to solidify a foothold against them.”

“They were tolerant of the army at Rock Hill and Ever Green before they were reinforced.” Argon nodded his head. “Every town and city has some protection, partly against the beasts, and against other threats as well. They were cautious of Ever Green, which is within a week’s march towards their lands, but were probably relaxed once Sir Merry had retired there.” Argon spoke the name respectfully, giving it the highest honour.

“Sir Merry? Is that the name of the King’s Sword?” Adam asked.

“The previous King’s Sword,” Magpie correction. “He no longer holds the title.”

“The elves wouldn’t dare to attack Ever Green with such a presence,” Jurot said, recalling all the stories about Sir Merry. “He may be the strongest in all the land.”

Adam looked to Jurot, blinking at him. “The strongest? Even compared to the Iyrmen?”

“It is what I have heard,” Jurot said. “They say Chief Iromin would find it difficult to face him.”

‘Whoa.’ Adam blinked. “Whoa.”

“Sir Merry was always friendly with the elves,” Argon said. “He had an elven lover. However, the King had called for the eradication of all elves within the towns and cities once the war began.”

“What happened to the elves? What about Sir Merry’s lover?” Adam narrowed his eyes, finding the current King to be quite the distasteful fellow.

“They were slaughtered in four of the regions, though I’m sure none lay a hand on Nariabelle, the White Cloak,” Argon said, adding the same level of reverence as he had used when speaking about Magpie and Sir Merry. “Those in the north managed to escape persecution, for the north was far removed from the war.”

“One of the few wars they were far removed from,” Tazwyn said, sharing a look with Magpie, who smiled at the joke.

“Even if there was an army building up at their border, why did the elves react so viciously?” Adam asked. “They didn’t need to be so sensitive, unless something like that happened before?”

“That’s right,” Magpie said. “When they first took claim to the south west, not so far from the Iyr, they remained as the Iyr had. The old Aldmen had begun to build up some towns near them, including Red Oak, and had launched an attack against the elves suddenly. I’m sure there are still elves alive who lived through that time, though I’m sure you know more about how elves age than I do.”

“Either way, I’m not an elf from that way, so you should keep your hands and steel to yourself,” Adam said, looking at the boy.

He shrunk under Adam’s gaze, glancing aside.

“You really aren’t from around here,” Magpie said. “No one would dare bother the next Magpie.”

“I don’t plan on being this weak for the rest of my life,” Adam said. “That’s why I have Jurot here.” Adam pat Jurot’s back. “He’s one of the few who will be able to keep up with me.”

Magpie laughed, shaking her head. “You’re cocky, aren’t you?”

“No,” Adam said. “When you die as many times as me, you change.”

“You’ve died before?” Magpie squinted at him, wondering if he was telling the truth.

“Twice,” Adam said, smirking at her. “Both at the hands of a god, for only a god would dare slay me!” Adam threw his head back in laughter, his laughter filling the forest. He turned to Jurot, only to realise he wouldn’t get the joke. “Nevermind,” he said, wiping away a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “I hope your boy won’t go slitting my throat in my sleep. If the gods find out he thinks he’s a god, they may get angry.”

“He won’t do anything with me here,” she said. “You sure are a queer one, Adam.”

“I’m a half elf, what do you expect?” He clasped his hands together in a light prayer. “I just hope the lot of you like me as much as I like you.”

Spell

Guidance

1D3 = 2 (2)

Charisma Check

D20 + 3 + 2 = 16

“We have nothing against your kind,” she said, placing a hand on the boy. “You need to let go of the hatred in your heart. Remember, we are to remain neutral, always, even if you meet an elf, including the very same elf who had slain your parents. The moment you swear your oaths, you cannot draw your sword so lightly.”

Adam leaned in. “Tell me more! What are you? What’s the history behind the Order of Wings? What’s this neutral stuff around? Are you going to go beyond the wall, or something? Is Magpie a title? Are you passing it down to your disciple? What about the others?” Adam bombarded her with one question after the other.

‘Oh,’ Magpie thought. ‘He’s a tourist.’

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From Blackwater Crisis to the Massacre at Blackhill, Adam sure is learning a lot about the world.

There's no way the author is hinting at something.

Right?