The Shattered Path

Chapter 5 - The Initiate

Aerham wished Saroken would withdraw its soldiers as well. The Senate had sent them an undisciplined lot of drunkards and liars. It was despicable how they stood around unorganized when they were supposed to be standing in a formation. Several had drawn their swords and participated in a clumsy, mock fight. The one-hundred loyal soldiers of Ravyn's Might were sufficient to garrison the fortress against any beastman uprising, so the Blessed Lady had no need for the ruffians. One day, Aerham would be Lord of Light and he would set things straight. There would be honor and discipline.

A barrel rolled from the back of a wagon, scattering the line of laborers, some dropping their large sacks. A foreman barked immediately, ordering one man to toss his sack in the path of the barrel, stopping it. Immediately, the foreman shouted the laborers back to work, an excellent example of a supervisor demanding discipline from his men. It was impressive how quickly he had reacted and put the men back to work.

Aerham's admiration was cut short by a blinding flicker of light.

Across the courtyard, a Brother of the Sun sat atop his steed in full glory. He held his helm in a gauntlet-protected hand, turning slightly left and right, speaking to the bannermen below him. His steel plate armor had been buffed to a fierce shine, the front radiating the amber glow of the eastern sky. The horse had been draped with a bright yellow banner imprinted with the lion silhouette emblem of Uth Traethon Garenthil the Lion.

One day, Aerham would have such a set of armor and he would wear it with pride. He envisioned himself sitting atop a fine Dalaini horse with a saddle of polished leather from distant Ikara. He would wear his shoulder-length, black hair in a ponytail and smooth it with oil, but he wouldn't grow a mustache or beard like most of the Brothers had. Aerham's father had taught him that being clean shaven was a show of discipline. The soldiers under his command would see it as such, even if they didn't realize it. He could wait five more years to earn his armor. It would be worth it.

"I see the light of our goddess has shone upon you, finding you worthy, m'lord."

A slim man, dressed in stained leather clothing and shrouded in a brown cloak, stood to the left of the doorway. His posture was not as respectful as his words, leaning against the stone wall of the fortress with his arms crossed. His dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and the stubble on his chin had reached the point that it could be debated that it was a beard. A broad sword hung from his thin belt and a bow and quiver were slung across his back.

It took a moment for Aerham to recall the man's name. He was Randeil, one of the scouts. He reminded Aerham of a rat. His nose was long and almost pointed and his two front teeth stuck out. He moved in short bursts sometimes, stopping to look around before picking his next destination. All he needed to do was sniff the air once every so often to complete the image. Also, when he spoke to someone, his eyes always drifted hungrily to their jewelry and belt pouches. The man couldn't be much better than a common alley thief, though he had claimed to have scouted the Murdered Lands several times. Obviously, a liar, but quite harmless to the Brotherhood. There were many useful scouts who performed their duties well enough to compensate. It was probably better that this ruffian was kept under the watchful eye of the Brotherhood, rather than running free to prey upon lawful commoners.

"Yes," Aerham responded curtly. He didn't want to have a conversation with the despicable rat, especially not on this grand day.

"Well, good luck and all." Randeil shrugged, turning his attention back to the bustle of the courtyard with a lazy look.

Aerham gritted his teeth before adding, "Oh, I have a question."

The rat grinned at Aerham, perhaps expecting cheese.