The lifting of the Curtain: Chapter one (1)

It was to be a simple task, a simple ride, and an easy day. They had
all told him that, everyone he had asked, but still he could not be
sure. But surely they knew more than him, and he was a fool. If so, he
would never be happier in his life to be such a fool.

As he rode ahead of the wagon upon which the supplies for fort Gaurav
rested, with the column of twenty mounted soldiers riding around it,
these thoughts raced through the mind of Junior Officer Steffanes
Ingriade. The sky was dark, and steady rainfall beat down upon them, the
grim and featureless nature of the rolling plains through which they
journeyed doing little to raise the general mood. His horse was quiet
under him, trotting along without a care in the world. No one spoke, or
made any kind of noise, the bleakness of their surroundings making all
in the company melancholy, and wishing for little more than the food and
bed that awaited them at the fort.

Less than a month ago, Steffanes had been sworn in as a junior
officer in the royal army of Gardena. His training, his father said, was
done, and as a man of eighteen it was high time he began his career in
service to his kingdom, as those of the Ingriade blood had done for
countless generations. It hadn’t been hard to arrange a set of arms and a
well forged sword for him, the sword being given a fancy name that
Steffanes kept forgetting. Then it was oaths and vows under a starry
window, and he was a “Sir”, sent out to join the battalion that his
father had picked out for him. He was to be part of the Aretesen
Company, thus repaying a favour their commander, Colonel Derhn, owed his
father.

As if by some cruel, or perhaps kind, twist of fate, his acceptance
into the army came on the same day that the war with Hoilletan ceased.
For a year, fighting had raged across the borders of the two nations,
with reports of great battles being fought across the Roudeson
river-ford. Yet the two armies, it seemed, had grown weary, so a truce
had been made.

Of course, no one on either side was under any illusion that this was
a lasting peace. As his father had told him, in way of reassurance, the
exchange of prisoners and lines drawn on maps was ultimately
meaningless. War would come again, and it was only the matter of a few
years or so. But for now, at least, there was to be a lull in military
activity, as both sides would take this time to re-arm, and plan for the
next conflict.

Yet this did not mean that Steffanes was to be spared hard duty, as
it did not befit young officers to be idle. It was this that had brought
him to the north, along the borders of Gardena and the unsettled
territory colloquially referred to as the “Badlands”. It was harsh,
frontier country, in which few dared to settle long. The only real
permanent settlement was Milgrey, a large walled town at the convergence
of three small rivers, where those who owned small farms and trading
posts around the countryside retreated to in times of severe danger.
That danger was now upon these lands again, and so the troops of Gardena
came north.

In every war between Hoilettan and Gardena that was recorded in
history, there was a great rise in bandit activity all across their two
realms. Usually formed out of deserters from both armies, mingled with
thieves, poachers and other outcasts of society, loose groups of these
bandits would take advantage of the attention of the two countries
armies being occupied with war, and roamed around where they willed,
raiding farms, villages, and occasionally being bold enough to try and
storm small towns. As the wars dragged on, their menace would grow,
which sometimes served to bring about peace. At wars end however, most
would disperse, with many who had been part of the raiding parties
eventually being caught and hanged.

However in this region, one group had grown large and bold enough to
not simply fade away when the war ended. They still ran riot through the
countryside, and their numbers were quite vast compared to other bandit
hordes. Calls from the chief marshal of Milgray made to them to stand
down had been met with messengers coming back as bodies tied to their
horses, and a posse made up of local stout folk had been beaten back
with heavy losses. As such, it fell to the army to rout them, so to
allow the people to return to peaceful lives. It was up to Steffanes’s
platoon to escort supply wagons to the three large forts in the area,
from which the scouting troops would strike out in pursuit of the
bandits.

Steffanes looked behind him, observing the sullen looks of the troops
under his command. They were all older than him, with some surely past
their thirtieth year. He hadn’t learned any of their names, and they
only knew him as “J.O Ingriade”. They had all fought in the war, with
some carrying distinct scars on their faces. None met his eyes, only
staring forward as their grim ride continued.

“What business have I got being in command here?” Steffanes thought.
Although it had been clear since he was a child that a life in command
of men was his destiny, Steffanes had never truly felt comfortable with
the idea that his birth alone made it so that he was valued above
others, many of whom may be as, or even more capable than he. He would
have been happy to be held back, to have had to earn his rank after a
year or two of service. Instead, it had been thrust upon him, and all
the responsibilities that came with it.

The lives of every man and woman riding behind him were in his hands,
and the fact that they looked to a teenager to get them out of trouble
filled Steffanes with great dread. Oh he had been well trained of
course; all of his instructors praised his skill with a sword, as well
as his knowledge regarding tactics and proper management of troops. But
how well would that training serve him, if the worst where to happen?

The oldest of his men, who Steffanes knew as sergeant Kinloch, rode
up beside him. Paunchy, past forty with greying hair and beard, but
still strong and able, Kinloch leaned over to him and spoke softly, as
to keep their talk private.

“J.O ingriade, sir, May I be so bold as to make a personal remark?”
was the whisper from Kinloch, his tone friendly enough, if a little
hesitant.

“As you wish, sergeant” Steffanes replied, turning to face the older man.

“Well, sir, it’s just that…” The older man seemed to be being held
back by something. Steffanes hoped it wasn’t his lower rank that made
the man so nervous about being open with him.

“Well, it’s that I fought with your honoured father sir, the noble lord Celas Ingriade. In fact, I owe him my life.”

Steffanes now gave the man beside him his full attention. “Is that
so?” He asked Kinloch, his eyes wide. His father hardly spoke of his own
battles, so to hear from someone who had stories to tell was a rare
treat for him.

“Aye sir”, Continued Kinloch, as his previous hesitance left him, his
speech becoming more free and expressive. “It was at The Bronzine
marsh, must be twenty years ago now. I was just a raw recruit then,
hadn’t seen much in the way of action. Your father was leading my unit
through the marsh, on our way to reinforce the siege of Karmilen.”

“As it turned out, the Hoilletan’s found our trail, and came upon us
right there in the bog. First we knew of it was the volley of arrows,
and by the time we’d lowered our shields they were practically atop of
us. I could swear they came from all sides, but I only saw the ones
bearing right down on atop of me”

“I confess, I froze in my fear, and could not move”. Kinloch’s voice
became sad at that, and for a moment he bowed his head again. Steffanes
began to fear that the old soldier would not continue his tale, before
Kinloch raised his head again, his face bearing a brighter expression.

“ So it was I fell into the mud, face first, right as the one leading
this band of Hoilletan’s, a great brute of a knight with horns on his
helmet, ran at me. In a flash, I got to my hands and knees and looked
up. There he was, lifting his sword above his head, looking down on me
with murder in his eyes. I was sure that my life was at an end”

“Then sir, then it was that I saw your father. He ran right at that
brute, and grabbed him by the throat with both hands. He was half of his
foe’s size, but still lord Celas threw him down, right on the mud. The
man tried to get back up, but your father was too quick. Drawing his
sword, he drove its point right through the gap in the proud knight’s
armour, slaying him in one blow.”

“I was cowering, in awe of what I had just seen. I lowered my gaze,
not wishing Lord Celas to see me. Then, I felt a soft touch on my
shoulder, as if someone was comforting me. Looking up, I saw your father
again sir, and his face was so, so kind. He offered me his hand, and
without him needing to say a word, I took it, and stood proud on my feet
again.”

“The fight was over soon after that. The Hoilletans had seen their
leader slain, and lacked the heart to fight on. Besides that, they saw
that your father was a truly powerful warrior, and none of them felt
they stood a chance against him. So it was they broke and ran sir,
before they did any real damage to our column”

“It is for this, sir, that since then I have owed your father a debt
greater than can ever be repaid.” With those words, Kinloch finished his
tale.

Steffanes did not know what to say, much less how to really feel,
after hearing such a story from Kinloch, a man whom he was meant to give
orders too. He felt that he couldn’t risk offending the poor man by
saying nothing, as it had taken Kinloch great courage to open up to his
superior like he had. The boy in him wanted the old soldier to tell more
tales, as he was sure Kinloch had much more to tell. But he knew that
he had to try to maintain some level of authority. He was in command
here, after all.

But then a question came to his mind, one that he knew no rank or authority could keep him from asking.

Turning to his sergeant, he asked, with the sincerity one would ask
an old friend “Sergeant, do I remind you of my father, in the
slightest?”

Kinloch’s immediate reaction to this question did not fill Steffanes
with any kind of joy. The older man looked like a deer caught in the
sights, and he was audibly spluttering, as he tried to come up with an
answer as quick as he could.

“He wants to tell me what he thinks I want to hear,” Steffanes
thought. “That I am my father’s very Image, and am truly destined to be
as great as he. But he can’t bring himself to lie, nor can he say what
he really thinks.”

To spare the older man any more anxiety, Steffanes spoke up. “You
don’t have to say it, so I’ll say it for you. No, I don’t remind you of
my father. I may look like him, I may wear his hand me-down armour, but I
don’t look like someone who can save a life, or inspire people like he
can. I’m just a green young boy who has no right to-“

“My Lord Ingriade, you give yourself too harsh a scolding!”

The shout from Kinloch truly startled Steffanes. Some of the troops
behind him looked up, themselves roused by their sergeant’s sudden
outburst.

“I um, what do y-you mean?”, Steffanes gasped, trying to find a quick
response. For now, he was the true embodiment of a boy of eighteen.

Kinloch seemed to temper his fury, though there was none of his
earlier awkwardness. Steffanes could swear he felt a kind of pity in the
older man’s eyes, the kind of pity a patient tutor would give to an
earnest young boy, who try as he might, could not be able to get the
right answer.

His tone again becoming confidential, Kinloch answered his commanders
awkward stumbling’s. “ My lord, I mean that you put yourself down for
things you cannot help. It is true that you are young, and that all here
know more of war than you. But it was the same for your father, even
when I first saw him.”

Steffanes could find no answer for this. He simply stared at Kinloch, allowing the old soldier to carry on.

“ I’ll confess sir, that I did not think much of your father when I
first saw him. Woe to this army thought I, which would send honest men
and women to be led by pampered snobs. But of course, Lord Celas proved
me wrong, and from there became one of Gardena’s finest soldiers.”

At that, Kinloch turned his face fully to Steffanes, and the young
lord could see that there was a broad smile on that bearded face.

“ Your father must have felt as you do, and yet he found his way.
Don’t worry about reminding people of him, just think of what you can
do. A moment will occur where your true worth will be needed. If you are
bold, they say, it comes to you.”

“Sergeant Kinloch.”

The tone in Steffanes voice brought the older man back to himself.
His face became nervous, worried that his commander would reprimand him
for speaking out of line. In his haste to reassure the young lord, he
had quite broken rank, and Kinloch knew that there where repercussions
for that.

“ Yes Sir!” Kinloch declared immediately. Sitting tall in his saddle, He raised his right arm in salute to his superior.

To his surprise, he saw the young lord laugh. Steffanes bent over in
his saddle, clutching his sides. Kinloch could not make sense of it at
all, and for a moment he thought his commander mad.

Ceasing his laughter, it was Steffanes’s turn to give a warm smile. “
Sergeant Kinloch, thank you” said the young officer, with unguarded
warmth. “ From now on, you need not ask my permission to make any
personal remark again”

Kinloch motioned to speak again, but before he could, his eyes latched on to what was ahead of them on the road.

“ Hark now my lord! Look ahead! “ Kinloch shouted.