Turan:: Chapter I:: At The temple Of Vril Ya. II

II

　

The trip had begun some days before; at sunset of some seemingly far away day now, some day detached from their existence, their reality. The riders thundered their way through communities, farms and hamlets, until they sped past the last of the prosperous and more civilized settlements; they sped like purple shadows in the night. They drew the looks and attention of some of the less than respectable folks of the towns and villages that were out in the night air. Some of those looks were more fearful than threatening, for it was known the iron hand grip by which the Turanian imperial forces imposed the light of the Imperium. It was not common place to behold three hooded riders wearing the imperial purple and gold crest, without even stopping for beer, women or lodging, which soldiers frequently took from the townsfolk without paying for them, of course.

　

Helmut frowned upon these imperial soldiers, most of the bulk of the army behaved like so; because they take for granted that the only payment soldiers should give to civilians is the protection and imposition of the imperial law and order to protect the last bastion of civilization against the coming tides of madness from the other kingdoms. Even so, imperial troops were respected and some might say even loved. No single thing is denied to the servants of the Emperor; for he is, by His own conviction, servant of His vassals as well. Helmut believed and admired the Emperor because of that conviction; he loved Him from the very core of his soul.

　

The riders had made their first stop at seeing the sun rise on what would be their second day of journeying under a grey shadowy sky. They brought their horses to a halt near an inn they spotted next to the main imperial road. At that time, Helmut was still reluctant to accept his two assigned companions enough to share a table with them; and so he went in to the inn most to his displeasure, and ready to skulk in a table by some darkened corner. The building had three stories; its facade was red painted wood; and it had an attached small stable in which Helmut could see a hallway connecting the two structures. The interior, of course, was a dump. It stank of beer and sweat, the floor was covered in sawdust and wood shaving, a cheap trick to save cleaning time from all sorts of liquids. The place was nothing like the inns in the city of Turania, with its polished marble floors and scented table decorations.

　

The time at the inn had gone without incidents. Aside from a couple of local drunkards and a small, curious old man that fired endless questions to the riders, there had been no problems. It had been a very good first step. They fed on Imperial coin for their own soldier pay would have barely bought them a pea soup and a mug of barley beer for the three of them. On their travel, Helmut had already observed with disgust how these traders and dealers in goods over priced their wares; the farther from they were from the capital, the more expensive things got in the lands where the fist of the empire did not have a good grip, where its light did not diffuse the dark. Helmut would have to report this, and would have to make sure to send an armed garrison escorting an imperial accountant to settle on these lands. Of course, he had to get back to the capital alive, first.

At the inn, his companions had ordered a steamed ham and the house wine; all accompanied by black olives, dry cheese and fresh baked bread. All of which they devoured like true orcs; one of them in particular seemed to have a fierce appetite: little Krista; she had such a hunger that made Helmut smile at seeing her small round cheeks bloat with every mouthful, and her tiny pointy ears bob up and down with each bite. Helmut guessed that moment was when he had started to like "the midget" as he had taken up to calling her; even though she made furious tantrums every now and then about her not being a midget human, but a gnome. A very irritable one at that, had thought Helmut, not only in one occasion.

　

Helmut had hopes that Krista Greenmoss deserved all the respect she seemed to inspire in the imperial soldiers; they all talked to her with the uttermost honourable tone Helmut had heard among even the grunts. Still, he had found it hard to believe. He had seen how even at the tower of the order of Ix, the initiates in the traditione streghana regarded her with admiration. But on the other hand, he still had a fresh memory of how a captain master of arms smiled with mockery and disdain in his eyes when her little figure of not much than one and a half meters tall was announced to be one of Helmut's companions.

　

He felt cheated then; how was he supposed to go in to blood, steel and darkness and comeback unscathed, bearing a light to shun all other lights in the world if that little rat was hanging from his cloak all the time? Could they not have picked at least someone with the height of an adult humanoid? as it turned out, the midget was fine; and during their first meal together at the inn, watching her gulp huge chunks of steamed ham, Helmut felt akin to her, though he some what knew that when saw more than meets the eye; she gave the impression of knowing more about this infernal search than she let out.

　

So, instead of brewing and steaming in mistrusts, Helmut had attempted to distract himself by killing a huge amount of flies, though not a portion of how many flooded the place; while at the same time eating large mouthfuls of ham, cheese and bread, drowning them with rice water. Not beer; he would never allow himself such indulgencies. He could not. The risk of losing his mind to the inheritance in his blood had always been too near, and it would be insanity to add intoxicating substances in to the mix. As he ate, an elderly human had come up to him. At first, Helmut dismissed the old man

　

The old man seemed very interested on why were the travellers visiting the old inn by the imperial road so far south from the capital, where the action was. He had heard the rumours of rebellion and encroaching of borders from the other seven kingdoms and nothing of interest was happening in the south; so why were they there? the old man kept asking. Helmut, patiently and without using the craft, had tried his best to impress on him that it was not a visit for any affair of the small nearby communities; he had told him time and again that they were merely refreshing and getting the horses rubbed down and rested. the old man was not satisfied. Amongst endless questions he had tried to convince Helmut to take his grandson as squire.

　

Only when he old man had gone too far and tugged at Helmut

　

At that moment, Helmut had seen the old man pass a bitter gulp, stare at him for just a second, turn and exit the establishment without looking back. The boy looked back however. Perhaps that should have been a warning sign; one that Helmut ignored. He smiled bitterly and tired, then he looked upon his companions, they had not been aware of any of it.

　

The imperial order of ix had been his only escape from the wilderness without home; an escape from roaming the wilds, sleeping on cold stone by fires that do not provide warmth. Though that particular day at the inn, his inheritance had allowed him to keep on swatting flies and stuffing his mouth with ham and cheese, without any other curious onlooker to pester him or the two girls he was with.

　

A little after sun up; they had made sure the horses were well rested, scrubbed, oiled and rubbed; once this was done; they left, without a sound but the gold coind tinlking in the stable boy’s questions, and even had attempted to dissuade him of pursuing his inquiries.“He’d serve you well m’lud, he’s a stubborn boy, but strong and able” he had said one too many times, so Helmut had sized the boy up. It was a small lad of about fifteen springs, that apparently had nothing interesting to look at except the interior of the old man’s robe, which he did not let go, through the entire time. Grandpa was very insisting on taking his lad to be instructed ads an imperial soldier, for apparently, the man had cleverly noticed the colours the companions bore, though they had tried to hide them beneath stained dusty coloured travelling robes.’s robe was when he finally abated; he had seen what was beneath the hood for it slipped down halfway to his neck and revealed his features, his fangs, the greyish tone of his skin, and his half-blood that was impossible to hide in plain sight. Those piercing small, black eyes that seemed to pierce with a sharp sparkle, that huge body mass, muscular neck and arms; it only spoke of one thing, a thing that walked always hand in hand with scimitar curved blades and horrors told village after village: orcs.“This is better”, thought the half-orc. It’s better to fear the big bad monster, to avoid him and only look at him indirectly. Helmut preferred loneliness, the hood over the eyes; to hide and be hidden, to forget his blood an ascendancy; the mix that had doomed him to struggle twice as hard as any other being. To be half human demanded that he’d be more than any human; and to be half orc demanded him to be better than any orc; but never really belong to either race, always shun by both heritages.’s hands. Only the gallop and breathing of their horses could be heard on the road when they sped southwards.