The Muster of Aerlion

Ineirin strode from the office, a travel-sack slung over his shoulder with the most important supplies. Mostly papers, reports, and some of the trade revenue in a box. Gwythion would handle the rest of the packing as Ineirin arranged for the journey. He gave the squire a nod as he strode from the room, winding through the town streets to the docks.

A ship was already being prepared for the voyage. Sailors and soldiers hauled crates and barrels of supplies from the store-house, up the ramp, and into the hold below. Ineirin slipped into the procession and strode aboard deck, heading for the command deck. Captain Dylan stood there, overseeing the preparations.

Horns sounded from the upriver side of town and he stopped, turning to listen. Four horn calls for four ships. That was a significant number for a rive expedition. They certainly didn't have any traders upstream that were due to return soon. A runner burst from the crowded docks, sprinting up the gangway.

"M'lord! Four boats bearing Ashdell colors coming down river," he gasped, turning to take a message back.

"Ashdell?" Ineirin replied, raising an eyebrow. "What brings them so far West?" Then he shrugged and handed the travel-sack to the ship's steward, who hurried it to his cabin below decks. "Prepare a greeting party. I will join you and meet them when they land."

He ran a hand through his air and cast a wry look over to Dylan. The sea-weathered captain shrugged and grinned.

"I am but a humble sea-captain," he grinned again and turned back to the crew. Ineirin shrugged and strode back down to the dock and his quarters, switching his cloak for a more elaborate one sporting the colors of Aerlion. He draped it over his shoulders so that it hung straight down from the armor.

"Message from the capital, m'lord!" Another message called, setting it on the table by the door before running off again. Ineirin nodded, adjusting his circlet and walked over to pick it up. Sliding a dagger beneath the wax, he removed the paper and read it. Both eyebrows rose and he tugged at his beard.

Marry the princess of Ashdell? That would explain their arrival, but still. He would have appreciated a more advanced warning. His stomach twisted a little and he frowned.

"Read this," he said after a moment, handing it to Gwythion. The squire stopped packing up a crate of court clothes and took the letter. A cheeky grin spread across his face as he read.

"About time, m'lord. You've begun to age and turn gray. Perhaps a lady might keep you young." He laughed and handed the letter back.

Ineirin shook his head with a small smile. Then he squared his shoulders, adjusted the circlet and strode to meet the landing party. A small landing part of Gull Knights in ceremonial cloaks and tabards joined him, along with a banner carrier.

They trooped through the town until reaching the upriver docks where the boats were coming into view. Ineirin took his position in the center of the dock, arms crossed behind his back, while the knights formed two lines at attention facing inward. Behind him, thunder rumbled near the horizon and the wind from the sea began to pick up, casting white spray up from the river.

They would be able to skirt the storm once they set sail. They needed to go South regardless in order to round the island and sail to the Westernmost Hold. Unless they stopped at Leionesse first and commenced the journey by foot. Gwythion joined him, standing just behind him and to his side.

Dockworkers hurried around, gathering up their ropes to help haul the boats next to the dock. There was enough room on the jetty for all four to tie alongside it. It could potentially be easier for them to dock alongside the ship, but the boats appeared too small to handle the choppy waters.

"Sound a greeting," Ineirin added to the herald. The man nodded and raised his horn, blowing three long, bright blasts that echoed across the water.

Mirielle Merlon

Mirielle Merlon

The boats pulled alongside the dock, dock-workers hurrying to tie the boats to the pier, looping rope around the struts. The passengers discharged, stumbling and pale. A smile twitched on Ineirin's lips as he watched. They were truly mainlanders, not used to choppy water. And this was still water sheltered from the open sea by the rest of the island. It would be more than mildly amusing to watch them on the open sea.

A woman stepped out, with dark hair and clearly not impressed by the boat ride. So this was Mirielle, princess of Ashdell, that his father wanted him to marry. Interesting. She was hardly one for etiquette at this point, but most people weren't after getting off a rough boat ride.

Ineirin bowed deeply at the waist.

"Welcome to Aerlionesse, your highness." He straightened and gestured to the dock-men to help unload the boats and organize the Ashdell soldiers. "I am indeed Ineirin, prince of Aerlion. It is an honor to finally meet you." He turned and started walking off the dock, calling back to her as walked. "Quite. We have been summoned back to Aerlion for the muster. If you and your forces are here to assist, I think it is best you all come as well."

He gestured for a messenger, who hurried over to him.

"Prepare a second ship, loaded and equipped for the Ashdell forces. They shall be joining us." The messenger sped off to the deep-water section of the harbor. Ineirin considered. That would delay their departure for several hours, which perhaps might be for the best.

"I hope your journey went well, your highness," he spoke again, stopping once he was back on the solid ground, as logistics officers hurried to organize the transport and arrangement for the new troops. It would be quite an expedition rather than the fast ship he had anticipated, although the storm should help them keep a fast pace the entire way. He reckoned it would take them hardly a handful of days to reach Aerlion and then not much more to reach the Westernmost Hold. They could perhaps cut overland for the sake of Ashdell and to gather the oath-men for the muster and logistical arrangements.

It would get them all to the western defenses in time to launch the assault. He didn't know what the strategy was, but he would find out as soon when they arrived. But for now, he had a princess to look after.

"What can we provide you that you might need after your journey? Food, lodgings until we leave, rest?" His eyes assessed the forces she had brought. Archers for the most part, bold and stocky, who looked to be more comfortable in the woods. They would be helpful once the ground forces landed, but likely a liability beforehand. That would be tolerable.

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Westernmost Hold

Elyran studied the charts at his table, placing markers at four different harbors and different colored markers on the island of Malzentine. Resting his chin on his hand, he assessed it and pulled in another chart. This one marked out currents and tides that they had been able to measure. He adjusted the markers slightly in accordance with the chart. Then he unrolled a third chart, which was sketched with the topography and structures of Malzentine. He overlaid that one on the first map, adjusting the markers accordingly and assessing it.

More markers were laid out, these of ships and forces, divvied up among the harbors. He adjusted and readjusted them, comparing the figures to a tally listed on another sheet of paper. They had six thousand standing soldiers that could spared for the assault, with thousands more in reserve. The oath-men tallied up to about eight thousand all together, so fourteen thousand total, plus whatever forces allied nations might bring. That would certainly be something.

Question would be what they wanted in return. He put together another fleet and set them up North to secure the north island, directly above Malzentine. They needed to secure that island to ensure Aerlion's continued dominance in the island chain. This was the Sea-King's domain and his influence should be supreme.

He penned a note to Breconhall, noting their past friendly relations and the benefit that could be gained from eradicating the Malzentine threat to secure the Western coasts in order to more fully face the dangers of undead threats in central Ardell. Then he dispatched that with a messenger to leave immediately, cutting across country via relay posts and set sail from the capital. He figured it would arrive in a week.

Rhun Llewelyn

Mirielle Merlon

Ineirin slowed to listen as she spoke, assessing the answer. He kept himself from smiling at the mention of food. Indeed, it hardly looked as if many of them would be able to eat. Small raindrops began to spit from the sky, pattering across the pier and sea. Wind pulled at his hair and he nodded.

"You can take my quarters while I oversee final preparations to depart," he said, looking up to the horizon. Dark clouds raced across the sea, wind pushing the water slate-flat. It would be an interesting trip, depending on the route they would take. "My squire has removed all of my personal belongings already, so none will disturb you."

He took another turn, winding his way through the town before slowing in front of his door. He gauged the sky again.

"If we cut through the heart of the storm, we can be to Aerlion in three days." He kept his voice calm as he spoke, "Although I do not think you or your men would much appreciate such a journey. Bearing south to skirt the edges, we can be to the southern cape in six days. That leg is safer, but to sail north to my father would take us along the Malzentine border, which I would prefer we avoid, given that you will be accompanying us."

He pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing for her to entire.

"It is not large, but it is comfortable enough. I shall ensure your luggage arrives promptly. Is there anything else you may require that I can ensure you get?"

The rain had grown into a light shower now, beginning to soak his hair and plaster it to his forehead. Gwythion approached and, catching sight of the princess, bowed low.

"Your highness," he added, "It is an honor to host you here with us." He rose and turned to Ineirin. "The second ship is beginning preparations now. We should be prepared to leave on the evening tide."

Ineirin nodded.

"Ensure the preparations are being made and check the readiness of the garrison."

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Westernmost Hold

The harbor was crowded now, and the fleet beginning to disperse to the harbors and coves north and south of the keep. Ships, large and small, were constantly surging in by this point, and all told, Elyran counted nearly five hundred ships at the ready. They ranged from the small one-masters to a few of the big three-masted caravels, with countless cogs and other ships in between. It was a grand fleet, all flying the colors of Aerlion. Malzentine had undoubtedly gotten wind of the gathering of the Aerlion fleet. But then, they gathered the fleet every few years or so, and it had been some time since it had happened. Hardly a key sign of the coming attack, especially given Aerlion's emphasis on the east.

What would really surprise them was the troop encampments springing up behind the headlands that lined coast, clustered around the fortifications strung along the border coast. Soldiers in the thousands gathered, with more arriving every day. Three hosts of the standing army, and many more oath-men called for service. They came in chainmail, with swords, spears, and bows. Some had horses so they could assemble a cavalry force. The Knights of the Gull not stationed elsewhere were arriving, in columns of horsemen and aboard small, fast ships. They stayed at the Temple of the Sea-King for now, caring for their gear, practicing large-unit combat, and praying to the Sea-King.

But for now, there were plans that needed to be put into action. Elyran took a torch from a nearby sconce along the battlement and strode to a large pyre, sticking the torch into the oil-soaked wood. Flames surged upwards, crackling and spitting. The High-Prince took a step back as the heat rolled across the top of the wall. In the harbor, a detachment of ships began to haul up their anchors, carried out to sea by the out-going tide or pulled by oared long-boats. There were several dozen there and they turned to sail north, hugging the Aerlion coast as they sailed to the Northern island. Assuming the wind held, they would arrive in two days. From there, they would erect fortifications and secure supply lines across the island to hold the north against any Malzentine counter-attack.

Once that was secured, then the main fleet would sail for the Malzentine capital, securing the land and harbor around it before assaulting the city. The goal was to cut the head off the snake, killing the empress, destroying the nobility, razing their temple, liberating the slaves, and pursuing the survivors north to catch them in an anvil. But then, no plan ever went as it was intended. They would adapt.

Mirielle Merlon

She had intelligent eyes, Ineirin noted. Clever and quick, as far as he could see. That was good. There were ladies at court that would be well-served by such a trait. Gwythion hurried off, while shouted orders drifted above the town, accompanied by the rattle of armor and weapons. He took pride in the soldiers of Aerlion, especially these here. They were his men and he had been responsible for them. But the time had come to pass that off to another, perhaps permanently or perhaps just for a time. The reality of his betrothal had not yet settled into his mind. It still seemed a distant possibility after only receiving news as she arrived. He did smile at the comment.

"It's not an upset stomach that would concern us," Ineirin added, turning to observe the dark clouds looming overhead and the distant sheets of rain. "But we shall take the longer journey then." The storms at sea, especially ones that looked like this were grim affairs, even for the sailors of Aerlion. Taken wrong, they could smash a ship in two or capsize it. Aerlion sailors knew how to swim. It was their home as much as wherever they were born. Whether Ashdell forces knew, he had no idea.

A grimace flickered across his face at the mention of Malzentine, with a deep frown and creased eyebrows.

"The only glamour to Malzentine is if you are an Elf and can cast illusions of your own divinity." His voice was still the same, but there was a slight edge to it. "I have met enough who seek to swim the channel to escape. But the ships of Aerlion," his voice softened. "None are more beautiful that sail across the sea. Solid and reliable as a castle built upon rock, with the grace of the most elegant dancer. You will find it beautiful, I think."

At least, he hoped so. Things would be unpleasant for her in Aerlion if she did not take to ships and the sea. The thought could hardly be comprehended in his mind, but he knew there had been such people.

"I shall return when we are ready to depart," Ineirin added after a moment, scrutinizing a few men who were struggling with a hefty bundle of ballista bolts, but they recovered and carried it up into the ship. "I hope you have a beneficial time of rest and privacy before we depart." He gave her another bow.

A dark mist started to silently seep in through the finite cracks between wooden planks as Mirielle sorted through her valuables. The construction of the ship was indeed as impressive as the men of Aerlion boasted. The darkness had to permeate through a large area of wall and floor, but enough eventually made it through to reveal the human form of Solaiel.

The man was behind the princess. He paused for a moment to watch her sort through her trunk before he finally broke the silence in an attempt to scare her.

"Well, he seems ... princely," voiced the faux man with a smile. "He is quite mistaken though."

Solaiel took the liberty of plopping down onto her bed in a casual manner. Once there he propped himself up onto an elbow as he continued to watch her.

"Malzentine really is quite a sight to behold. The palaces, mansions, and cathedrals would take your breath away. It really is phenomenal what you mortals can accomplish when you don't concern yourself with the well being or fair wages of others."

"It is such a shame that I couldn't vacation there in peace. The knife ears there don't much care for your kind," he added with a soft chuckle. Solaiel reached a hand up to move some hair aside to expose the obvious round top of his human ear.

Mirielle Merlon

Genuine mirth filled Solaiel at her surprise and frustration of his antics. Her dagger hadn't even elicited a downward glance at it. His wide smile exposed the amusement that she had brought out of him. However, it faded some at her statement about taking the appearance of an elf.

"Perhaps I could, had I applied myself to learn the ways of your kind. I suppose there are a few among the humans who have the power to take on the look of others. It would be an illusion though. A deceitful spell or ritual. I am no sorcerer, my sweet little princess. I simply am, and what I do simply is. There is no illusion in how I am before you."

His expression changed to that of thoughtfulness as he pondered on the correct words. He looked down at his hand and flexed it as he studied the moving tendons and muscles as his skin moved slightly above them. How much could he tell her? Would they be enemies later?

It had been a week now that she held his jewel. Never once did curiosity push her enough to wear it. The princess had served her purpose faithfully. Most would have wanted to be done with him, and yet she tangled herself deeper in his company for a chance at protecting her people. He hadn't had a meaningful conversation with another dragon in at least a hundred years. Perhaps he could confide in her some. Talking would pass the time, and boredom was the greatest enemy.

"My real blood is shed when I am wounded in this form. The wounds carry to my other form. This magic, if it is magic, is from long before I hatched. I do not claim to understand it. Though perhaps there is stock in the stories I learned as a young drake. It is said that Salas created the world and then created dragons in his image to tend it. The first among those dragons created the lesser races so that they would not be alone in this task. Our lesser forms are chosen by bloodline. My first of my line is said to have created the humans."

"You didn't think all dragons lived solitary lives in caves coveting a pile of gold and bones did you? I am what the Empire deemed as a Dreconian Dragon. We have a grand city in the mountains. Much of it still stands. There is old culture there. You can worship and be blessed by the council of seven. I'd take you were I not exiled," spoke Solaiel as he looked back up at the princess. Amusement filled his eyes again as that same smile curled back into place.

"Boredom gnaws at me, Princess. Perhaps I will tag along for a while. I wish to see what becomes of this war with Malzentine. I can pose as your personal guard. You may need to fly out of here if the fleet burns. You can tell me of the lizards I took you from to pass the time. I have seen very few of the Karahacen until now. I'd very much like to know how they fielded a small army. I thought them almost extinct, but now I know that they hide. I will use them if they can be useful."

Mirielle Merlon