Fortisquo remarked as the group approached an encampment of soldiers.
“Shut up,” Belgad ordered as a dozen Kobalans on horseback approached.
The dark-garbed horsemen pulled their animals to a stop mere feet from the saddled Belgad, who brought his steed to a standstill as had his fellow travelers.
“Name and purpose,” one of the Kobalans grunted.
“Tell your master Belgad Thunderclan and comrades have arrived and desire a word with him,” the Dartague stated.
The Kobalans smirked at the big man. One of the officers turned his horse back toward the tents. “I’ll see if I can’t find one of the captains to speak with you.”
“No,” Belgad said. “I haven’t come all this way to speak with a stooge. Tell Lord Verkain I would have words, and I have a present for him.”
The burly soldiers glanced at one another. It seemed it took a bold individual to ride up to their army and demand to speak with their king.
“I’ll see what I can do,” a soldier said, and rode off toward the city.
“You do that,” Belgad said.
***
Entrance into Mogus Potere took little time, Belgad and his pack being escorted by cavalry through gigantic iron doors into the city, then along winding streets around buildings of dark stone. Their travel was helped along by the people who walked the streets, most of them pale and gray peasantry or large soldiers in armor who immediately jumped out of the way when they saw horses trotting in their direction.
Eventually Belgad and band came to the monstrous tower in the center of the town. The dizzying building turned out to be part of a larger complex, an enormous castle within the walled Mogus Potere.
A new bunch of soldiers waited there, a score of men in black plate armor with white tabards bearing the mark of Kobalos, a black fist with spikes between the knuckles. These men carried long pole axes, the metal heads of the weapons as dark as oil.
“We leave you here, sir,” one of the escorts said, then he and his fellows rode away.
Belgad slipped out of his saddle. “Which one of you is the sergeant?” he gruffly asked the line of warriors blocking his way to the only obvious entrance to the tower.
The largest of the soldiers stepped forward, a burly man with a heavy gray beard protruding from beneath an open-face helmet. “I am Captain Lendo. If your manners don’t improve, you will go no further.”
Belgad was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. The Dartague glanced at Fortisquo, who only nodded, a sign to tread lightly.
“We have traveled far, captain.” Belgad faced the officer again. “We are here to see your master.”
“I know who you are, Belgad Thunderclan,” Lendo said. “Lord Verkain will see you in his own good time. Until then, quarters have been prepared for you.”
“It’s about time,” Fortisquo whispered, following Belgad and the others through a heavy wooden door into the tower.
A dried splash of blood on the stone floor of the entrance hall made Karitha blanch. Fortisquo had a chuckle at her expense, but it was a nervous laugh. Belgad’s troupe had stepped into the lion’s den.
***
The private chambers within the giant castle turned out to be comfortable, but not full of the luxuries often associated with the mighty and powerful. The large main chamber had five doors off it, one door the exit to a hallway and the others leading to bedrooms. The main room had cold, dark walls of stone, but heavy tapestries kept the chill at bay as did the large fireplace in the center of the back wall. Thick rugs also kept the pine floor from cooling the feet.
“Not quite fit for a king, but it will do.” Fortisquo plopped himself and his bag of gear onto a cushion-laden couch.
Belgad followed with the others, all of their eyes darting about while a Kobalan soldier remained in the hall and closed the door behind them. Three of Belgad’s personal guards stayed at attention near the exit while the other planted an unconscious
“Shut up,” Belgad ordered as a dozen Kobalans on horseback approached.
The dark-garbed horsemen pulled their animals to a stop mere feet from the saddled Belgad, who brought his steed to a standstill as had his fellow travelers.
“Name and purpose,” one of the Kobalans grunted.
“Tell your master Belgad Thunderclan and comrades have arrived and desire a word with him,” the Dartague stated.
The Kobalans smirked at the big man. One of the officers turned his horse back toward the tents. “I’ll see if I can’t find one of the captains to speak with you.”
“No,” Belgad said. “I haven’t come all this way to speak with a stooge. Tell Lord Verkain I would have words, and I have a present for him.”
The burly soldiers glanced at one another. It seemed it took a bold individual to ride up to their army and demand to speak with their king.
“I’ll see what I can do,” a soldier said, and rode off toward the city.
“You do that,” Belgad said.
***
Entrance into Mogus Potere took little time, Belgad and his pack being escorted by cavalry through gigantic iron doors into the city, then along winding streets around buildings of dark stone. Their travel was helped along by the people who walked the streets, most of them pale and gray peasantry or large soldiers in armor who immediately jumped out of the way when they saw horses trotting in their direction.
Eventually Belgad and band came to the monstrous tower in the center of the town. The dizzying building turned out to be part of a larger complex, an enormous castle within the walled Mogus Potere.
A new bunch of soldiers waited there, a score of men in black plate armor with white tabards bearing the mark of Kobalos, a black fist with spikes between the knuckles. These men carried long pole axes, the metal heads of the weapons as dark as oil.
“We leave you here, sir,” one of the escorts said, then he and his fellows rode away.
Belgad slipped out of his saddle. “Which one of you is the sergeant?” he gruffly asked the line of warriors blocking his way to the only obvious entrance to the tower.
The largest of the soldiers stepped forward, a burly man with a heavy gray beard protruding from beneath an open-face helmet. “I am Captain Lendo. If your manners don’t improve, you will go no further.”
Belgad was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. The Dartague glanced at Fortisquo, who only nodded, a sign to tread lightly.
“We have traveled far, captain.” Belgad faced the officer again. “We are here to see your master.”
“I know who you are, Belgad Thunderclan,” Lendo said. “Lord Verkain will see you in his own good time. Until then, quarters have been prepared for you.”
“It’s about time,” Fortisquo whispered, following Belgad and the others through a heavy wooden door into the tower.
A dried splash of blood on the stone floor of the entrance hall made Karitha blanch. Fortisquo had a chuckle at her expense, but it was a nervous laugh. Belgad’s troupe had stepped into the lion’s den.
***
The private chambers within the giant castle turned out to be comfortable, but not full of the luxuries often associated with the mighty and powerful. The large main chamber had five doors off it, one door the exit to a hallway and the others leading to bedrooms. The main room had cold, dark walls of stone, but heavy tapestries kept the chill at bay as did the large fireplace in the center of the back wall. Thick rugs also kept the pine floor from cooling the feet.
“Not quite fit for a king, but it will do.” Fortisquo plopped himself and his bag of gear onto a cushion-laden couch.
Belgad followed with the others, all of their eyes darting about while a Kobalan soldier remained in the hall and closed the door behind them. Three of Belgad’s personal guards stayed at attention near the exit while the other planted an unconscious
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