Veabella
Year 1378 (Present day)
It was Meffas’s turn to take point. Though the undisputed leader of the company, he insisted on sharing an equal part of each duty. He rode fifty paces in front of the others, and for that Veabella was thankful. She had some questions about Meffas, but she did not have the courage to ask him directly. Instead, she looked to his oldest friend, Ictorian. The tall man with lean muscles was a few years younger than Meffas, but what hair he had on the sides of his head had turned gray. His advancing age did not take away from his martial prowess or the intimidation he instilled in strangers. Even so, Veabella thought of him as being easier to approach than Meffas. He felt more like a peer and although he rarely initiated conversations, he always gave her questions thoughtful and genuine responses.
Ictorian did not look back as Veabella rode up to him. The man was staring off into the woods on their left, an unreadable look on his face.
“Think we will reach the city today?” Veabella asked.
“Indeed,” he said with a smile that quickly faded back to his usual look of mild sadness.
“Ictorian, how is Meffas? It looks like he is putting the weight of all of this solely on his own back.”
“You’re an astute observer.”
“Is that a jest?”
“No. I apologize. I meant it as a compliment. You are correct. He wants to carry that burden because he finds it comfortable to be concerned, and because he wants to protect us. If he could, Meffas would keep all of us safe from any harm, whether it be physical or emotional. He is the most selfless man I have ever known, and I have traveled with many people.”
“That is why he withdrew us from the tournament, isn’t it? To keep us safe?”
The change in Ictorian’s face was more pronounced than perhaps he would have liked. Veabella saw the sadness writ clear in his eyes. “Yes. He would not have anything happen to us because of what he considered to be an unnecessary risk.”
“Has he always been this cautious?”
“You ask pointed questions, lass. For as long as I have known him, yes. But I do not think he was always that way.”
“Why do you say that?”
Ictorian looked at her then and studied her face. She thought she could see the faintest hint of a tear beginning to well up in his eyes. “Because he has known the loss of people for whom he was responsible.”
Veabella waited to see if the man would continue without further nudging. After some time of riding in silence, he spoke again.
“When I met Meffas, he was no longer a hunter. He had not been one for many years, in fact. But he was known as an expert tracker who had an intimate knowledge of nature. He may have slowed some now, but he was also one of the most skilled wielders of a battle axe I have ever seen. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to return to a life of hunting and leading men and women into danger. He will not speak of it, but when he was much younger, Meffas led a company of a handful of hunters who gained renown in the lands near the Lightless Forest. They became known as one of the best outfits on the continent for their ability to track and kill any beast. And this is during a time when there were no mechanized traps and herbalism poisons were only just being developed, making them rare and extremely costly. Over time, hunters would seek out Meffas from as far away as Hon Rin begging for a chance to join. I believe the company grew to number nearly thirty individuals. That is a large company today and even larger back before the guilds played a role in guiding contracts.
As you are familiar, the lands north and east of the Lightless Forest eventually become mountainous and incredibly difficult to traverse. When gold was found however, settlements began to rise up in areas where men had never lived. The miners expected to encounter beasts and placed many guards, but each time they pushed further out into the wilderness, the animals became more ferocious and more aggressive. Eventually the loss of life was too great and no further expeditions were sent out until the mountains were cleared of the worst of the beasts.
Being famous now in the region, Meffas’s crew was contracted to purge a nest of the most vicious of the creatures which were hunting the miners. I never saw them myself, but the rumors were that they walked on two legs, but were twice the size of a man. Covered in thick gray fur, they were able to camouflage themselves into the rocks of the mountains, and they had no trouble seeing in the dark. They were perfectly crafted for life in the cold of the region.
Meffas’s crew went into the mountains and returned with the heads of six beasts. A few men were lost, and Meffas took that hard, blaming himself. However, he had likely expected a worse outcome. In all, the hunt was wildly successful. One of those creatures alone had been known to kill more than a dozen men during nighttime hunts.
They descended the mountains to deliver the heads and collect their reward. The village had been small just a few years prior, but with the rush of miners to the area, it had grown into a bustling town. I do not recall its name, and it is no matter, as that village is gone now, considered cursed. You see, Meffas’s company had not killed all of the beasts. The animals were more cunning than anyone had realized, and when their pack members died, they followed their scent out of the mountains. Meffas and his company arrived in the late afternoon, and that night, there was slaughter in the town.
Eventually the beasts were felled, but Meffas was the only man from his crew left alive, the only other survivors children and elderly who hid in the basement of a storehouse. The contract had been for the heads of the three creatures who were believed to be in the mountains. Meffas had delivered double the required bounty. Yet when he left the town, he left with nothing, considering it unethical to take money from people who had just been devastated.
It was the last time Meffas went on a hunt for many years, and to this day, he blames himself for everything that transpired. In his lowest moments, he wished he had never walked away from the fight.”
Veabella’s eyes had grown wide during the tale, but now they began to fill with tears. She could imagine the guilt Meffas had been living with for decades. That the man appeared so strong to her made her all the more sympathetic.
“I had never heard the whole story,” a voice said from behind.
Veabella turned to see that Xopher had ridden up to within a few feet of them. The shame he felt at having been bitter over Meffas’s decision was plain on his face.
“He would not want us to hear that story, even though it would make it easier for us to understand the decisions he makes,” Xopher said.
“Correct,” was all Ictorian replied.
I wonder now how and when Meffas returned to hunting. A question for another time though. I have never seen Ictorian speak this much and I do not want to make him uncomfortable. Still, would that I knew.
The sun was beginning its lazy descent when the walls of Goldcrest came into view. After the pathos of earlier in the day, Veabella had moved to ride with Twig and Donnes. The inseparable friends were wagering again. For all their talk, Veabella had never seen actual coin switch hands between the two, but both assured her they knew the balance in their heads.
The number varies greatly depending on who you ask, and I suspect neither number is accurate.
“She’s nearly as old as Meffas, I’m telling you,” Twig said, his voice rising with enthusiasm.
“You don’t even know how old Meffas is,” Donnes snarled.
“Almost as old as you.”
Twig then realized the mistake he had made. He was riding too close to Donnes. The large woman leaned over and smacked him across the back of the head.
“You’re two years younger than me, idiot.”
“Then next time hit someone your own age,” he said, guiding his horse out of smacking range.
“There’s no way she’s more than thirty-five,” Donnes said. “No wrinkles, no bags under her eyes.”
They were arguing over Arwa, a councilwoman in The Ebanigan Hunter’s Guild. Veabella suspected both Twig and Donnes secretly desired the woman. Tall with long, flowing hair and sharp features, she was an attractive woman, although cold and distant.
Though that may be one of her aspects that attracts them.
“She’s seen things though,” Twig retorted. “You can see the years in her eyes. Her memories haunt her.”
Donnes snorted. “What are you a philosopher all of a sudden?”
“Not all of a sudden. I’ve always been one.”
“You’re a scrawny little puke who recites lines he heard from stories. What book did you get that from?”
“The book of life! I made it up myself.”
“I believe that last part; you made that up.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Donnes. You lived a privileged life of luxury while I was out on the streets fighting for survival.”
“You know the majority of what you say is lies? Not just now, but in general. You lie more than you talk the truth.” Donnes looked back at Veabella who, thankful for the diversion, was shaking her head and laughing. “Isn’t that true, Vea?”
Twig spoke up before she could respond. “Don’t let Donnes intimidate you. She’d never hit anyone but me because she knows I’d never hit a lady, even out of defense.”
Veabella giggled and winked at Donnes. “I think you just proved her right with that, Twig.”
The man did not stop complaining about being ganged up on until they reached Goldcrest’s southern gate.
The Ebanigan royal family boasted that their capital was the largest city in the world. A similar claim was made by the royals of Xu and Vinredor. As for the reality of the situation, it was difficult to tell. The last king of Ebanigan, Boryell, had insisted on meticulous record keeping, and had declared the city’s population to be just over one million two hundred thousand. However, that was before the purge. It was possible that the population had recovered since then, but there were no official numbers anymore. Instead, the current queen, Sayell, had simply added on to the number every few years, and insisted that the city currently held one and a half million people. The University of Vinredor had conducted a survey less than a decade ago which determined that Oslidor held nearly two million citizens, making it significantly larger. Of Rubicious, the capital of Xu, there were no numbers given any credence. The city prided itself instead on its enormously tall and thick walls, and the luxurious and decadent display of wealth in its streets, though the tradition of decadence among the wealthy was under assault by their new Divine King, Octavius Xu. As a byproduct of those ostentatious displays of wealth, the city was far too expensive for the common man to live in, and the population was rumored to be less than one hundred thousand. Octavius Xu wished to change that, and had enacted many edicts denouncing unnecessary material goods in his first few years of rule. Whether it was working, Veabella had no idea. Like most people, she had never been to Rubicious.
A mountain fastness, Rubicious was said to be a marvel of architectural design, but the majority of the population of Xu never came within a hundred miles of the city, living instead primarily in fertile valleys and along the country’s coastline. Whatever the truth, Goldcrest was a city large enough to easily get lost in, and thieves and worse criminals took advantage of that at every opportunity.
Still, I am happy to be back here. Being behind those walls will make it easier to sleep at night.
Meffas paid the gate tax and the company filed in behind him through the expansive stone arch. She had not noticed it before, but after having spent time in Oslidor, Goldcrest felt ancient. Though both cities claimed their roots went back to the beginning of recorded time, Goldcrest was stagnant while Oslidor had grown under the rule of Oslian Vinredor. It was thanks in large part to the work of Simon Howswilder and his contract with the Vinredorian Crown. But the purge in Ebanigan had halted the growth of the city and then sent it into a descent from which it had never truly recovered. The violence seen in that time had left a mark on the populous, scaring them and desensitizing them to acts of aggression. That so many everyday people partook in the orgy of blood and victimizing, only to find themselves returned to their regular lives, numbed the city in a profound way. Ictorian had said once that the city was dying, and Veabella thought that she felt that now.
The crew followed Meffas through dirty markets down cobbled streets of granite on their path to the guild district. Home to all the officially recognized guilds of Ebanigan, the Goryell guild district was one of the wealthier areas of the city. Each guild employed armed guards and the vast quantity of coin that passed through the district each day ensured that everyone was watched with a closer eye than in most other parts of the city.
Unlike Oslidor, with the visage of Oslian Vinredor on seemingly every street, there were no signs of Sayell Ebanigan in the city. It was said she had no idea of what went on beyond the walls of the palace, though it was rumored to be more than aloofness that kept her eyes closed to the real world. Rivalries between factions within the palace were fierce, forcing the queen to spend an excessive amount of time to get any order through the bureaucracy. Ebanigan had seen better days, and everyone knew it.
Those thoughts dampened Veabella’s mood, but the sight of the hunter’s guild brightened it again. Seeing the green roof shingles took her back to her induction into the guild two years ago. She had Meffas to thank for that day, and although she had tried, she knew she could never truly make him understand how important it had been to her. The sense of accomplishment she felt when she was given her hunter’s torc had been overwhelming. The guild hall looked identical to that day two years ago, and in this instance, she was thankful for the city’s stagnation.
They hobbled the horses and Meffas called them aside before they entered the building. The sun had fallen, and light poured through the cracks at the door hinges and through the second-floor windows, indicating the establishment was very much alive.
“It is safe to assume they will know at least as much as we do. Even still, we do not want to say anything that could possibly be taken in the wrong manner. Our goal is to ascertain as much information as they have, and to make them see our innocence. I hate to say this, but this one time, please stay silent, all of you. I have dealt with Ehrhard for many years. I believe he is a fair man, but he is cunning as well, and if there is an advantage for the guild in making us appear guilty, he may take it.”
No one said a word. Meffas looked them over and nodded. He then presented them to the guards and they were granted access to the guild hall.
The building’s first floor was a massive room mostly consisting of tables for eating and drinking. Each table could seat ten hunters, and on this night, all of the tables were full. The raucous laughter and boisterous conversations died suddenly as the new company filed into the entrance way.
No doubt now that word traveled quickly.
A relay system of horses at outposts was used to send messages between the three royal nations, which had greatly increased the amount of information which was shared since its inception. The debacle at the tournament would be of interest to Ebanigan, and would have been prioritized among the relay riders.
Veabella looked to Meffas, who continued striding directly to the lengthy dais where the guild council sat. Startled by the unwanted attention, it took Veabella a moment to recover her senses and follow her company leader. She peered over at her crewmates and saw a disparate variety of postures and facial expressions. Arms crossed, Xopher glared out at the other hunters, a look of challenge in his eyes. Ictorian followed Meffas, his eyes straight ahead. Twig and Donnes kept looking back between the tables and each other, looks of amusement and concern shifting with each glance. Eventually the entire crew crossed the room and found themselves before the guild council.
The six members of the council were each seated in high-backed oak chairs with green cushioned backs and seats. Before them was a long table on which was inscribed the guild sigil of crossed arrows, the same image which could be found on the torcs of every guild member. The two middle seats were occupied by Ehrhard, the guild master, and Arwa, his second in command. On their right sat Kovlen, a giant of a man who had lost an arm and an eye during a hunt which forced him into retirement. Next to him was Bitash, the council’s scribe. He was already furiously taking notes, although no one had yet spoken. To the left of Ehrhard sat Purcell, a famed former hunter who had founded the guild but stepped out of the leadership role following a scandal. Finally, on the far left was Goren, the newest member of the council and the Ebanigan Crown’s official representative. All the members except Goren had been present two years ago when Veabella earned her torc. She still looked at them with a sense of awe and hoped now that they could assist her company by at least believing in their innocence.
“Master Ehrhard, council members,” Meffas began. “I would like to request a private audience. My company and I have a rather sensitive issue to discuss.”
The guild master’s face remained neutral. “I can grant that request, but not tonight. As you see, the hall is quite full and I would not interrupt the revelry of so many of our members. Can your request wait until tomorrow?”
“I do not think that would be wise,” Meffas said. “Though I suspect you know of what I am speaking?”
“I do.”
Meffas shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Behind him, Veabella could see the tension in his back. As much as she did not want this conversation to take place in front of hundreds of onlookers, she could not bear the thought of waiting even longer to hear what the guild council knew.
“Very well,” Meffas said. “I suppose I must begin by informing you that we are innocent. We had nothing to do with anything that took place at the tournament. We were in fact not even in the city on the day it took place and knew nothing of what happened until Vinredorian guards attempted to arrest us.”
“You withdrew from the tournament.” This statement from Arwa. The woman had passed the meeting with a poorly hidden smirk which she promptly dropped before speaking.
“I understand now how that looks. But I deemed it an unnecessary risk.”
“That, I believe above all else,” Ehrhard said. “And of your innocence, I have no doubt as well. I have known you for many years, Meffas. You are not a murderer. But of your decision to withdraw from the tournament, despite the fact that you were this guild’s representative, I cannot abide.”
Goren spoke next. “Do you realize the pressure we now face from Vinredor? They want your heads. Do you see the reasoning of their charge? You had access to the other participants and you were the only entrants who survived. I certainly see how they came to the conclusion that you are guilty.”
“If nothing else, you disgraced us,” Kovlen said, his anger palpable.
“We chose your company to represent our guild, and instead you brought us nothing but shame. Even without the poisonings of which you claim innocence,” Purcell said.
Grateful for someone else to bring shame upon the guild, no doubt. No one is happier at other’s misery than a man who believes his own shame will be supplanted.
Only Bitash did not speak. The scribe continued writing as though he intended to capture every word that was spoken. Ehrhard raised a hand for silence, and shook his head. “Vinredor has asked that we turn you over to their authorities. Of course, we will not do any such thing because of the precedence that it sets. However, your membership in the guild, and this is for the entire company, has ended. We cannot be seen to do nothing when our reputation has been so damaged. I know you understand how important reputation is.”
Veabella felt her world falling apart. Too many thoughts passed through her mind at once, making it impossible to think clearly. She looked at Meffas and watched as the man seemed to age before her eyes, his posture slumping before he attempted to straighten himself for a last word.
“I ask that this punishment be given to me alone and that the other hunters in my crew be allowed to stay on as guild members. The decision to withdraw from the tournament was mine alone, and therefore the consequences of that decision are mine alone to suffer.”
For the first time, Veabella heard murmurs from the hunters seated at the tables behind her. She did not know if they had been silent during the entire audience with the council, but she was now more aware of their presence. She hoped they would speak later of Meffas’s honor, even after they disparaged his initial decision.
“Your request is denied, Meffas. The guild needs to be seen extracting this rot from our institution or else our members will be forever barred from taking contracts in Vinredor. I know that sounds harsh, but it is my duty to act in the best interest of the guild, no matter how difficult it may be.”
Meffas paused for such a long time that the scribe Bitash caught up and halted his writing for the first time since Veabella and the others approached the dais. She looked up at the council and saw no sympathy from any of the members. Arwa’s narrowed gaze was focused on Meffas, while Goren whispered into Purcell’s ear, the two men doing nothing to hide their satisfaction. Ehrhard and Kovlen had both crossed their arms and exchanged brief, muted glances before looking out upon the now former hunting company. It was clear they were united on this decision, and she hated to admit that she could see no argument, with the exception of pity, for them to act otherwise. And pity was not a profitable way to run an organization.
When Meffas finally spoke, he sounded exhausted and compliant, as though he was a patient accepting a healer’s declaration that he was terminally ill. “Understood. Thank you for this audience.”
Veabella could not look at him when he turned around, nor did she wish to meet the eyes of anyone else in the room. Her cheeks felt hot and flushed, and she wished for nothing more than a place to cry away from the gazes of onlookers. As Meffas led the company out, she fell in behind Ictorian, hiding behind his massive shoulders until they were out in the street.
“Who set us up?” Xopher asked, his sword hand flexing on the pommel of his blade.
“Not now,” Meffas said. “Our emotions are running too high.” He reached into a pouch in his vest and removed some coins. “Do whatever you need to do to relax and get your mind off of this. We can reconvene tomorrow night once everyone has cooled off.”
No one moved to grab the coins he held out. After a moment, Meffas forcefully placed a small share of the pile into each of their hands, closing their fists to prevent the coins from falling. “Goodnight,” he said after handing out the last of the money and disappearing into the darkness of the night.
“His advice is sound,” Ictorian said. “I will follow it.” The dour man then left in the opposite direction of his old friend. Veabella knew Meffas did not want company, but now that she was away from the eyes of the council and the other hunting parties, she did not want to be alone.
“Someone needs to die for this,” Xopher said.
“We have no idea who though,” Twig responded.
Donnes kept shaking her head. “The guild is supposed to defend their members, yet no one said a word in our favor.”
“They’ve been paid off, I’d wager,” Xopher said. “Think on this- who benefits from all of this? The hunters in Vinredor, and companies in Ebanigan who wish to go there for contracts, and now have much less competition. All of their best companies were taken out with one blow.”
“Can we file an official complaint against the guild?” Veabella asked.
“File with who? The royals? They’re part of the council. The petition would go nowhere.”
“We don’t even know if what you’re saying is accurate,” Twig said. “We have no evidence of anything.”
Xopher snorted. “Fine, Twig. Why don’t you ride back to Vinredor and search for some evidence. We’ll wait here for you.”
“Shut your mouth, Xopher,” Donnes said. “Maybe Meffas is right. We need to cool off. Let’s get some cold drinks.”
“That’s an idea I agree with,” Twig said, attempting a smile which faded as soon as he saw the look on Xopher’s face.
“Please don’t start any fights tonight,” Veabella said to Xopher. “Meffas will figure something out.”
Xopher looked like he was about to give a remark, but instead changed his mind. “Go get drunk then. I’m going to find Ictorian.”
Veabella watched him leave, desperately wishing the older and wiser Ictorian would be able to calm him down.
“Hot head,” Donnes said.
“He could be in the right though,” Twig admitted. “What he said makes sense. Someone benefits from all of this. No one just kills hunters for no reason, except deranged beasts. Though I suppose even they have a reason for killing. Well, you see what I’m saying.”
“No,” Donnes said. “Shut your mouth until there’s a tankard in front of it. Vea, you’re coming with us. No excuses.”
Grateful for the demand, Veabella nodded quietly.
I do not know what I am going to do with my life now. I have to trust in Meffas. He would never let us down.
Then wiping the tears from her eyes, she walked away from the guild hall with her friends.