The words had the desired effect and halfway through the blow Mazoga lost a measure of her self-control and struck the dummy with full force instead of a controlled blow that she had intended. There was enough force in her underarm blow that the canvass bag passing for the dummy’s chest simply exploded into dust and bits of straw and the head was flung twenty metres away into the tents. Judging by the sudden shrieks and sounds of people falling over, the stuffed bag covered with the crudely drawn representation of a face had landed in the middle of a group of people.
“What the fuck is yer problem now, little man?”
“My problem is that we should be teaching the lad how to fight as a knight. With dignity, and chivalry. He won’t learn such things from a pig.”
“I’m a Knight.” Mazoga snarled, Caleb and the training forgotten for the moment. “The Commander knighted me and everything.”
“You will never be a true Knight. Knights ride to battle. Knights have honour and grace and civility and aren’t beast-kin.”
“Who says I need to ride a damn horse? Ain’t no one getting me on a horse.”
Hovering behind her and trying not to get involved, Caleb moved to put himself in between Mazoga and Detane despite his own unease. “Why don’t you ride?”
While she may have been angry at Detane and quick to rise to his bait, she was also just as quick calming down. “I… uh… don’t trust them.”
“You… Don’t trust horses?” Caleb asked hesitatingly over Detane’s snort of amusement.
“I don’t sit on anything that has a mind of its own. Besides that, they are dangerous on one end, smelly on the other and cunning in the middle.”
“It astounds me that you don’t get along with them famously then. They’re practically family to greenskins.”
Mazoga’s temper finally reached a breaking point and she surged forward in a wall of green muscle and fury. To anyone else she would have been enough to chill the blood and freeze them on the spot but Detane merely stiffened, his hand dropping to the hilt of his rapier and the strange calm expression he wore during battle covering his face.
“Sir Mazoga!” I roared, choosing to use her preferred honorific rather than the proper one of madame not only to gain her attention but because it was quicker to say. At the sound of my voice she stopped in mid step, and Detane suddenly tensed in annoyance.
“I… But he…”
“Whether he deserves the thrashing that you are fully capable of providing is unfortunately not up to you to decide.” I stopped in place as I looked between the three of them and tried not to take note of the dozens of expectant and curious eyes from the surroundings. “I will not tolerate fighting, no matter how deserving.”
“Yes sir.”
“Master Acqunax,” turning my head to the smug looking Breton still seated on his crate, I frowned at him so hard that I felt the vampire rising to the surface. “While you may not be directly under my command or a member of the Order of the Nine, I am in command and you will abide by my rules. You proved your worth in Blackmarsh, but that well of goodwill is not infinite. You are here only because I allow it.”
The sneer remained but there was the hint of a nod before I turned back to Mazoga. “Of all the Knights under my command you are the only one who is not a member of the cavalry and this does cause a slight problem. While the title is mostly honorary and despite the fact that it galls me to say it, Master Acqunax is somewhat correct.”
Mazoga looked crestfallen while I could see Detane’s expression of astonishment crack his fa?ade of self-assured confidence for the merest of seconds.
“However.” I continued, briefly catching Caleb’s curious expression as I looked between them. “Sir Vanevius has shown me that every knightly Order always has at least one knight who fights dismounted. I was planning on revealing this at a later time, but I have commissioned a new standard for the Order of the Nine. Traditionally the Standard Bearer for the Legions, and as I have learned; Knightly Orders is typically one of the bravest and determined individuals within their ranks. Putting aside the fact that you do not ride, I can’t think of anyone more suited in the Order than yourself.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Words failed her and she stood stupefied, mouth falling open and even Caleb was left grinning at her reaction. Detane however once again returned to his typical scowling self, practically snarling with pursed lips as he rammed his blade back into its scabbard and rose to his feet.
Patting the giant orc on the shoulder and giving her a smile I saw how several of the onlookers were also smiling and nodding in agreement while she struggled to process what had just happened. I had been intending on making the formal announcement once the standard had been completed and delivered from Skingrad but it had been useful to stop things before they went further.
My attentions however were set on a different individual and after sharing a few brief words to Mazoga and leaving her and Caleb to continue their training I quickly hurried after Detane as he stormed off through the tents. Despite his size and stature, he moved like a storm and people shifted out of his way from a combination of his expression and body language.
“Master Acquanx!” I called out after him as we moved deeper through the collection of tents. “A word?”
“I’m busy.” He snapped, venom dripping from every word and he didn’t even bother turning around.
“That was not a request.” My own reply was just as sharp and he stopped, turning slowly and frowning as I jabbed a thumb at one of the half-finished buildings nearby. There were several buildings under construction around the Priory itself but unlike the stables or the barracks on the far side, this was a simple wooden storehouse. The walls and the frames were completed and in a day or two the roof would be finished and the handful of workers and labourers stared at us as we stepped through the empty doorframe.
“Give us the room.” I stated simply, and the workers glanced amongst themselves and made themselves scarce, leaving their tools and their jobs where they were to provide us with privacy.
Detane was scowling and his eyes were burning into mine as I struggled to stand still and relaxed and not pace back and forth. Everything about him at that moment was infuriating, from the way that he stood with his hands clasped in front of him, his shirt slung lazily over a shoulder and the ever-present hints of a smirk on his face.
“This needs to stop.”
The cold eyes continued pressing into me and he didn’t blink or even flinch in the slightest. “What do you mean, Commander?”
“All of this. The goading, the divisive attitude and the picking of fights with everyone who happens to be nearby. Especially Mazoga. So far I have let you stay because you proved your worth in Blackmarsh but I am serious when I say that your welcome is almost used up.”
“Is that all?”
My face began tingling and I could feel the silent urgings of the vampire straining under my flesh and I knew that at that moment it would not have taken much to physically rip the expression off his face. Every fibre of my being was yearning for it but I knew by his expression that he knew it just as well as I did.
“Gods be damned that it not all! Would you like me to draw it in the dirt or speak with smaller words? Stop. It. You’re a damn good fighter and if not for the fact that you verbally abuse everyone who comes by, you are a bloody hard worker. Nonetheless, I cannot and will not abide any further division among anyone here. Consider this to be your final warning; if you cause any further issues you will be sent away.”
Not for a moment did his expression change and he met my gaze with one of his own, never wavering or backing down for even the slightest of moments.
“I don’t understand your reasons for anything Detane.” I said carefully, taking several breaths to calm myself as best I could while rubbing at my temples. “I don’t really know why you are here with us and I don’t understand your point for infuriating everyone.”
“Maybe I’m just a terrible person.”
His tone was as cold as ice but I raised an eyebrow. “I have never met a terrible person who was actually self-aware so I can’t bring myself to believe that. What I do know is that you are lucky that Mazoga has as much self-control as she does. Just what are you trying to achieve? To get yourself killed?”
While his expression didn’t change his gaze twisted and dropped away from mine and I felt a chill course up my spine despite the heat. There was nothing to suggest anything beyond his usual disdain and corrosive personality but I remembered a moment we had shared in the swamps. He had worn a similar expression shortly after I had pulled him out of the reach of a Black Bow’s spear before it had been replaced with anger, and my guts dropped with the hint of realisation.
“Wait… Are you looking to die?”
“Good day Sir Desin.” He said, turning on his heel and moving away.
“Detane? Wait!”
“We have nothing further to discuss.” The chill of his tone, despite the emotionless way he spoke was enough to freeze my veins and I moved after him. Repeated calls we met with a stony silence as he moved back outside, pushed his way through the small collection of curious onlookers before vanishing from sight. Not for a moment did he pause or heed my repeated calls and I was left standing before a group of bemused labourers looking between me and the direction that the Breton had vanished.
For the rest of the day the I couldn’t stop my mind’s ceaseless recollection of the events as they replayed over and over in my head. Even as I worked my way through the day’s administration with Sepula’s assistance I couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the revelation of Detane’s motivations. It was made worse by the fact that I couldn’t for the life of me think of any way to approach or deal with the issue or predict what effects it may or may not have.
Ghost Sagar is heavily influenced by The Elder Scrolls universe, specifically Skyrim, so anyone who has enjoyed my writing should give this one a go as well.
