The Commission
Oct 21, 2009 12:47:16 GMT -5
Post by Marten Faye on Oct 21, 2009 12:47:16 GMT -5
Marten sat on his horse. His head bobbed back and forth with the motions of the horse. " Three days....Three days to get ready. A full battalion...what am I going to do?" Soon he would be at Gilead and then he would have to make further preparations. But now...now he could think. The birds sang in the air around him and a quiet calm seemed to have descended over the landed he was traversing. Galbatorix had given him a mission. Recently, there had been several raids near Gilead. These were apparently the work of Varden bandits. His mission was to gather a small force of around three hundred men. And destroy these highwaymen. He already had fifty of his own vassals. Ten were mounted knights. The rest were all mounted swordsmen, spearmen, and archers.
What bothered him was the fact that they had little information on these bandits. They did not know who lead them, or even what their numbers were. ' But the king says to do it. So off I go.' He checked his horse and surveyed his soldiers as they rode down the beaten rode. A small dusty line compared with the few he had seen. The long, black cloak he wore fluttered in the wind. Underneath it was the tunic worn by the soldiers of Galbatorix. A red shirt, with a golden flame sewn upon it. Beneath that he wore a light coat of chainmail. And a white linen shirt with padding beneath it all. His one handed sword clanged against his side as he turned and began to ride forward.
Now Gilead loomed ahead of them. And in two hours they had reached it. They had taken more or less a week to get there. And now Marten would have to inspect the three hundred soldiers before he was able to rest. Once inside the city he told his Captain to take the men and find some suitable place to quarter. Faye himself took two of his knights and went down to inspect his men, who were now gathering in the drill square of the barracks. A triple line of one hundred each stood before him. Their helms glimmered in the waning sun and their array was showered with the red blood of the sun. Marten surveyed them with a half-hopeful curiosity. What sort of men had Galbatorix given him for this test? For a test it was. And he was sure of that.
The men stood ready. All were around the age of twenty and twenty-five. Save the officers. Who were aged about thirty. All in all a healthy group. But they lacked much combat experience. They had only been in one skirmish, but all were ready to die. Or they would be forced to die. For all had sworn that oath of fealty in the ancient language. A cloaked man stepped forward. Marten cocked one of his thin black eyebrows.
" And who are you?"
The cloaked man raised his head to meet Marten's gaze. But Marten found only blackness beneath the hood. For the man's face was cast into shadow. For a man he was by his voice. " I am....a dabbler in several professions. I am a master of disguise. A veteran in the secrets of death...and its causes. One whom Galbatorix has put under your command.....sire."
Marten guessed. " A magician?"
" Of sorts, my lord."
' And now I am issued a sorcerer. What is next?' Marten dismissed the company to the barracks and headed to his quarters. Two days and they would be on the hunt. Two days until blood was spilled. Two days until he was tested. But that day was not now. And so he slept
What bothered him was the fact that they had little information on these bandits. They did not know who lead them, or even what their numbers were. ' But the king says to do it. So off I go.' He checked his horse and surveyed his soldiers as they rode down the beaten rode. A small dusty line compared with the few he had seen. The long, black cloak he wore fluttered in the wind. Underneath it was the tunic worn by the soldiers of Galbatorix. A red shirt, with a golden flame sewn upon it. Beneath that he wore a light coat of chainmail. And a white linen shirt with padding beneath it all. His one handed sword clanged against his side as he turned and began to ride forward.
Now Gilead loomed ahead of them. And in two hours they had reached it. They had taken more or less a week to get there. And now Marten would have to inspect the three hundred soldiers before he was able to rest. Once inside the city he told his Captain to take the men and find some suitable place to quarter. Faye himself took two of his knights and went down to inspect his men, who were now gathering in the drill square of the barracks. A triple line of one hundred each stood before him. Their helms glimmered in the waning sun and their array was showered with the red blood of the sun. Marten surveyed them with a half-hopeful curiosity. What sort of men had Galbatorix given him for this test? For a test it was. And he was sure of that.
The men stood ready. All were around the age of twenty and twenty-five. Save the officers. Who were aged about thirty. All in all a healthy group. But they lacked much combat experience. They had only been in one skirmish, but all were ready to die. Or they would be forced to die. For all had sworn that oath of fealty in the ancient language. A cloaked man stepped forward. Marten cocked one of his thin black eyebrows.
" And who are you?"
The cloaked man raised his head to meet Marten's gaze. But Marten found only blackness beneath the hood. For the man's face was cast into shadow. For a man he was by his voice. " I am....a dabbler in several professions. I am a master of disguise. A veteran in the secrets of death...and its causes. One whom Galbatorix has put under your command.....sire."
Marten guessed. " A magician?"
" Of sorts, my lord."
' And now I am issued a sorcerer. What is next?' Marten dismissed the company to the barracks and headed to his quarters. Two days and they would be on the hunt. Two days until blood was spilled. Two days until he was tested. But that day was not now. And so he slept
