Shattered Honour Chapter Five

[Parrhesia]

[spoiler=Interlude]47 Autumn

Near the River Carrow

Everything was a blur...

"Brendan?"

Lord Randel shivered, and glanced at the voice. It was Ser Joan Wycliffe, looking vaguely concerned. He shook her off. "It's nothing. I just ... nothing."

Wycliffe glanced aside at him, then shrugged and went back to surveying the field. In the distance, black and gold banners billowed in the wind. The blue ones to Randel's back seemed pitifully few by now, though in truth it was a full three quarters as many.

Randel wondered for a blissfully mad moment if he could hire the Dracians to fight off the northerners. Then again, he'd hopefully just ordered the murder of its leader. Hopefully Locklane's man managed to plant that scrap of black cloth near the body...

"My Lord Randel, they are starting to move!"

Randel jerked his head left to Sir Reece Edmonds, a veteran of thirty years of fighting with thinning grey hair and a massive, beaked nose. If Edmonds was unnerved by their advance...

Randel swallowed. "Then we shall meet them," he said, sounding more determined than he felt. "Sound our advance!"

----------------

"My lord? My lord!"

Randel shook himself awake. The blood of the latest two men he'd slain was still slick on his blade and armour. He looked left at his First Guard, Hewen, who was shaking him by the shoulder.

"The right flank has collapsed, my lord," said Hewen, grimly.

Right. No time for thought. Time to go by his warrior's instinct. He was born for this.

Randel licked his lips. "We go to reinforce it, then. The centre can hold for a while, but not if we allow the flank to fall."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man on a wolf riding like hell through the battlefield, exhorting his men to stand fast and fight. It was even working. "Garwyn Rochford... I didn't know he was fighting with us."

"My lord!"

Randel shook his head again. Right. Time to act. "With me, men! Don't let the standard fall!"

He and his fifty men strode forward into the breach of the line, halberds braced. Those around them took heart at the very sight, fighting twice as hard to cut down the Othidian curs. And when Randel himself joined the fight, greatsword whirling into his foes and cutting down enemies in swathes, it seemed almost like the day itself was won just in those few moments.

And then there was the howling of wolves.

"The hell was that..." hissed Nevin, his standard-bearer. Blood poured from a cut just above his eye, but the man had fought on all the same, half-blind and effectively one-handed. Some insanely calm and formal part of Randel's brain noted to give him a promotion.

And then there were banners on the horizon. Black and yellow ones. A bear. A hornet. A hawk. Three great lords of Othidia, come now to crush their enemies.

Suddenly, Randel's men seemed pitifully few. He spat. No matter. "Brace."

Wordlessly, his men did so. The legionnaires around them shuffled into a rough shieldwall, men from different cohorts that had been scattered into each other, men that had never fought beside each other before.

"Nock," came a quiet word from behind. Then, "Draw."

Suddenly, Randel was overcome by disgust. How dare the

"Ready handaxes," bellowed a familiar voice. Captain Bradford? Captain Marnid? He would've known a few hours ago. It just didn't seem to matter now. Anyway, most of the legionnaires had already thrown both their hatchets. But it was a good order to say. It reminded them that their leadership was beside them.

The riders came over the hill. Their banners snapped in the wind. Their leader shouted an order, and the wolves began to lope forward with obvious menace.

"Fire!" shouted the nameless captain of archers. Metre-long bodkin arrows fizzed through the air and slammed into the enemy ranks. "Nock!"

Randel hoped Merry was safe.

The lines clashed.

No time...

How dare they come into our lands? How dare they tear down our walls and our banners? How dare they claim for themselves what is rightfully ours?

Randel awoke amidst the chaos of battle, splinters of wood sticking into his chest. He screamed in pain.

"He's awake!" shouted Hewen. The apothecary rolled his eyes, and continued mopping Randel's forehead.

"What in the name of the gods happened?"

"We held 'em back!" said Hewen, eyes bright. "The day's ours! But you took a lance in the chest, sir."

"A lance..."

"Man with a red boar sigil."

Randel's sword hand twitched. "Lord Hyle! That gouty bastard!"

"Whatever. Anyway, you killed him, and I dragged you to safety!"

Another familiar face stood over him. Rochford. "My lord," he said, gravely, and bowed. Randel impatiently waved him up. The steel knight obliged. His sigil was that of a sparrow, in russet.

"You fought well," said Randel, throatily. "Your bravery potentially won the battle."

"Bravery? I call it duty."

Randel smiled. "You're a rare man." Then he grimaced; the poultice stung as the apothecary applied it. He noticed as his vision was brought downwards that Rochford had been hamstrung in the battle, and was walking with a limp. "You took a wound?"

"It's nothing," said the knight, blandly. "Many more died."

"It matters not, my lord!" said Hewen. "We beat them back! This victory will mark the turning point of the war!"

The great lord let his gaze wander across the length of the scarred, ruined battlefield, finally drawing his eyes back on his First Guard. He smiled, bitterly. "Another victory like this, and we're done for."

As the infiltrators re-enter Cyra, it's discovered Jordan's hand has, mercifully, healed over a little. Enough to fight, given another day or two. They find themselves hardened by the experience...

As for those who stayed, they've more reason than ever to bring down the Gutter Guild, however they can. As soon as the fight was over, Kerrard, Raffin and Angeline left to make certain of Diana's safety while Elsa bound the wounds of whoever was left. But their leader, the man in the feathered hat, seems to have eluded you...

[scorri]

Jack sighed as they neared the inn where they had previously stayed. "We should report to Randel. I need a drink first though. Irene are you coming with us?" She shrugged. "I may as well." With that, the two of them entered the inn.

[Parrhesia]

As Jack and Irene step into the pub, they notice the floor's disturbingly red-tinted, everyone looks faintly traumatised... and there are feet sticking out from behind the counter.

"Evenin', guv," says Daniel, whose eyes are bloodshot.

[Nanami Touko]

Jordan, whose hand was miraculously feeling better, decided that a nice drink would probably make him feel better. Upon following Jack and Irene, and entering the pub, he let out a queasy shriek, taken aback by all the blood covering the place. "What... happened... here?"

[Strunk]

Jacob looks around the place.

"I didn't think it was possible, but this place seems to have gotten even worse since we left."

[Nightmare]

Chrysanthum looks over to the people entering.

"Ah, it's you. Done with the boring job already? I thought it would've taken you a bit longer. Oh and, this isn't really anything to concern yourselves with. We just performed a small task of cleaning up. It was actually quite fun, so there's nothing to worry about."

He nods sagely.

[Strunk]

"Wish we could say the same. We should probably discuss what happened out there soon."

Jacob takes a seat at the bar.

[Parrhesia]

Jacob nearly sits on a dismembered hand, currently being eaten by maggots.

[scorri]

Irene checks her seat before sitting down and nods at the table full of weapons and shields. "I'm assuming those come from the 'cleaning up' you all did? Mind if some of us take a look at it and take some stuff?"

[Parrhesia]

Daniel upends a bag onto the bar table. You notice Ibn's sabre, Cedric's javelins and Marsali's morningstar and heater shield... there's also an impressive maul laid against the table.

[Nanami Touko]

"Could I take the sabre along with a drink? As much as I enjoy this axe, it's way too heavy for me" Jordan piped up as the weapons were dropped off.

[Strunk]

Jacob doesn't seem to notice the hand he nearly came into contact with.

He stares at the weapons for a while.

"Seems these all belonged to our people, didn't they?"

[Parrhesia]

"Yup," says Daniel, almost sounding bored. He hands Jordan a drink, free of charge.

[scorri]

Jack shrugged and picked up the heater shield that had belonged to Marsali. "Well, they can no longer use them. They would want them used in some form probably, so I'm fine with taking this." With that, he walked back to the bar and ordered a drink. Irene though sauntered over to Jordan. "Well now, here's the thing. I'd also love that sabre there. And, well, I think we proved how well you'll do in a melee battle. It'd be much more useful in my hands. Speaking of hands, how are yours doing?"

[Nanami Touko]

"Tch. None of us would've accomplished anything if we'd stood up to that man. Alas, you're right, but give me your sword in exchange. It'll still be better for me than the axe." His pride was shot, so he didn't bother arguing for the weapon. She was right, either way. "I don't know what Airik applied, but it feels much better. Will probably be able to use it in a few more days. Looks like I won't be taking a break." He laughed a little before drowning it in his drink.

[Strunk]

Jacob sighs.

"Don't care for the weapons, but I wouldn't mind a drink."

[scorri]

"You want one of my dirks? Sure, here." Irene hands the dirk over and picks up the sabre. "Thank you. Besides, you showed you're better off with that bow of yours. That was some nice shooting you did. And good. I'm glad your hands are feeling better. You're a good part of the team. Speaking of, do you want to come with Jack and me when we go talk to Randel? Seems to me like you could stand to be better informed about what's going on."

[Parrhesia]

Everyone who wants a drink gets one, on the house. Daniel isn't in the mood to gouge you metaphorically further than the Guild already have literally.

[Nanami Touko]

"Don't praise me too much, you might start making me think I have an ego. Anyone can point and fire a crossbow, but I guess I'll take your word for it. Wish I'd help up better at sword point, like Jacob did, but oh well! Can't dwell on that, can I." He took her dirk, and the weight of it felt a lot better in his scrawny arms. At her next suggestion he almost spit out his drink. "M-Me? I guess, thanks. Didn't think I was as important as the sergeant, but I like the idea of knowing what's going on."

[scorri]

Irene shrugged. "Eh, running was the correct idea. Colt screwed everything up for us. Wasn't much we could do. At least we got the letters out of the deal. And the way you sassed the general impressed me. You have good aim and the spirit that's needed to potentially be an officer some day. Are you finished with your drink? When you are we should grab Jack and head out..."

[Strunk]

Jacob raises an eyebrow when Jordan mentions him, mutters "I wasn't that useful" under his breath and goes back to his drink.

[Nanami Touko]

An officer... if I live that long. "Yeah, I'm finished. It's as good as it always is, Daniel, thank you. Jack?" Jordan's spirit had been lifted, albeit slightly.

[scorri]

Jack drained his mug and slammed it on the table. "Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Time to go. You all behave while we're gone." With that, the three of them set out to meet with Randel.

[Parrhesia]

The Great Hall is oddly quiet and solemn, with about half as many guards posted as before. When you ask a nearby third-ranker to see Randel, the man glares at you. "Don't you know he's been badly wounded? Almost killed, I'd wager... he'll pull through, though. Old man always does. Why would he want to see you?"

[scorri]

Irene glared at the man. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because we were sent out on a mission by him and told to report back here to him when we returned? Or maybe because I'm one of the best spies we've got and if I say that I need to see him it probably means I have important news? We didn't know he was wounded, but that doesn't mean we don't need to see him or that he won't want to see us. Now, if you'll just kindly let us through, we'll get out of your hair."