Albion chapter 7
#1 of Albion
Five animal folks rode their feral horses at a steady pace towards the small village. The village was called Two Oaks, and it lay directly ahead - just down the hill and across the lush valley. Behind the five riders, the road (it was more like the suggestion of a road) stretched on and on for many a mile. If you were to follow that road, you would - eventually - see a Chapterhouse nestled in the hills. Formerly a bastion of order, the Chapterhouse had been turned into a vortex of chaos, a place of grief and loss.
The five riders were going to Two Oaks to find the one responsible for the Chapterhouse's grief.
Trajan, a Wolf, led the way. Close beside him, a tall and proud Lioness rode with grace and confidence. Her name was Sierra, and she'd chosen a horse many had dismissed as rough and unsteady. Yet, there she was, easily guiding the horse forward. Sierra had a legendary sword tucked away in her scabbard, and every now and again her hand would reach out and touch the pommel. Trajan noticed, and it troubled him, yet he said nothing. Elenna of the Sisterhood, a Dalmatian, rode behind Sierra. A brown-furred Pit Bull named Rutger brought up the rear. He'd been a soldier most of his life, and he looked like it. His friend Riley, a Fox with fur a shade of orange, rode ahead of him.
The Fox was the youngest of the five riders, as he hadn't yet seen twenty years. As he rode, he looked around. This was a part of Albion he'd never seen, but - of course - it looked much the same as all the parts he had seen. The village ahead looked much the same as the village he'd grown up in. As they neared Two Oaks, they rode by farms - which looked much the same as the farm where Riley had worked, for a time, after leaving home. Here, in the central part of Albion, everything looked much the same. There were trees, and fields, and farms, and more trees, and lush valleys, and there were a good number of villages . . .
Riley had never seen, had never traveled to, the mountains to the west. He'd never been to the beaches along the northern coast, nor had he been to the cliffs along the southern coast. And he most certainly had never been to the capital, where the king held court. He couldn't even imagine the capital itself, though he'd heard stories. An actual city - Albion's only city - and supposedly it was just as magnificent as the other cities in other parts of the world. According to historians, the folks of the Empire hadn't put much effort into Albion's capital city, when they'd built it all those years ago. It'd served mainly as a place for soldiers and administrators. After the Empire fell, after King Alaric united all of Albion into one kingdom, only then was Albion's sole city built up into something incredible.
As the young Fox rode, and looked around, he felt like he was in familiar territory - and yet, it was unfamiliar as well. The world had changed. His world had changed. In a way, he felt like he'd left Albion far behind, and he'd gone sailing off into the unknown. Had the world changed, or was it changing? He wondered. If so, what was it changing into?
As the five rode into the village, folks stared at them with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. That, too, was a sign of change. Looks of curiosity would be normal - Riley, Rutger, and Sierra were soldiers, after all, and they were all dressed as such, and it would be normal for the villagers to wonder why soldiers had come. As well, a sister of the New Religion rode with them, and the folks of the village would certainly wonder why she was there. And there was a Wolf among their party. Had any of these villagers ever seen a Wolf before? Riley doubted it.
The looks of alarm, however, were a sign of change. The rebels had gotten stronger, and Riley assumed that all sorts of rumors had reached Two Oaks. The sight of soldiers riding into the village - in the company of a Wolf, no less - no doubt caused concern and worry. The villagers would wonder - why were soldiers here? Were the rebels nearby? After all, if the conflict between the king's forces and the rebels spread into the village, that would only mean chaos and destruction - and hunger, too, for both soldiers and rebels would need to take the villagers' crops.
Riding into the peaceful village, Riley worried that the villagers would look upon the five riders as some sort of harbingers of doom.
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The pub was called the Dancing Stallion, and Rutger paused before going in. The brown-furred Pit Bull looked at the smudged windows, at the pub sign, at the smoke rising up and up from the chimney. According to Riley's vision - vision, or dream, or whatever it was - the merchant they were looking for was inside the pub. Rutger still had trouble believing that Riley had actually had some kind of vision, or dream, or whatever it was. He still had trouble believing that a sister at the Chapterhouse had told Riley that he, Riley, could be a mage someday. Did they call themselves mages? Rutger wondered. Sorcerers? Witches? Who knew.
Magic had - it seemed - become rare in Albion. Like most of the animal folks who lived on the island of Albion, Rutger had never seen magic performed, he'd never met a witch (or mage, or whatever they called themselves). In his mind, Rutger imagined that mages grew up knowing full well they were mages, and they went around doing spells and stuff, and they wore robes, and they introduced themselves as mages . . .
How odd that a sister of the New Religion should just tell a nineteen year-old Fox (who was a farmer turned soldier) that he could be a mage. Was that how it worked? And Riley had had no idea that he was capable of doing magic. The whole thing was weird. Then again, what wasn't weird, lately? Sierra, the beautiful Lioness, had pulled a magic sword from a rock. There'd been some kind of crazy spell released on the Chapterhouse. Things had been getting weird, lately. And before all this, Rutger reflected, his life had been so . . . what was a good word? Uncomplicated.
Yes. He'd thought life was going to be simple. He had become a soldier, and he'd joined the Earl's army, and he was going to help fight the rebels. Period. End of sentence. He'd thought his life would be simple - just some good rebel-fighting, no magic involved.
Well, none of that mattered, at the moment. They were entering a pub. Here, at last, was familiar territory! Rutger liked pubs, and he'd spent a good amount of time within them. They were comfortable, familiar, consistent. The Dancing Stallion was perhaps half full, as evening had barely started. Many villagers were still finishing dinner, and wouldn't be at the pub 'til later. The folks who were there, Rutger noticed, all turned and stared as the group of five entered. Three soldiers, a sister of the New Religion, and a Wolf. An unlikely group, to be sure. No surprise, Trajan got the most attention. For certain, the villagers had never seen a Wolf before. Who in this part of Albion had? There were a lot of Wolves at the capital, of course, and there were a good many of them out on the western edge of the kingdom. Some of the larger villages up north, as well, saw Wolves coming and going. Around here, however, Wolves were rare as diamonds - or magic.
"I grew up in a pub," Rutger said, to Riley, who was at his side. Riley looked at him, a question in his eyes.
"I never knew my parents," Rutger explained. "My grandfather raised me, and he owned a pub. It was the only one in our village, and everyone went there. I helped out, doing whatever I could, from the time I could walk."
He noticed Elenna, on his other side, looking at him.
"Have you ever been in a pub?" Rutger asked her. He wondered if she'd grown up in the Sisterhood.
"I lived in the world before I withdrew from it," the tall, slender Dalmatian replied. "I've been in many a pub, believe me. Don't worry."
Having said that, Sister Elenna smiled at him. Rutger noticed Trajan and Sierra moving off into the crowd. Looking for the merchant, no doubt. Rutger realized he should be doing that as well. Folks were still staring at Trajan, and Rutger read concern in the eyes of some, awe in the eyes of others.
Riley, too, was looking around. The merchant, yes, the mysterious Doberman they were looking for. Rutger would help - but first, they needed ale. Elenna close by his side, and Riley following, Rutger made his way to the bar. Soon, five tall mugs were in front of him.
Familiar territory, indeed.
Rutger drank deep, with gratitude, and he noticed (with approval) that Elenna knocked back a goodish portion of her ale. Rutger eagerly inhaled the scents of the pub - the ale, the mingled folks, the fire in the hearth, the roasting foods - and he wondered if this was the kind of place that had a bard in the evenings.
Trajan and Sierra appeared, suddenly, and Rutger pressed mugs into their hands.
"Drink fast," the Wolf said, grimly. "We have to leave. Now."
"What's happened?" Elenna asked.
"The merchant was here. He's gone. He's traveling to the Earl's camp."
"Oh, god," Elenna said, softly.
As a child, Rutger had been told that Wolves were fierce warriors - nearly savage, in fact. Not that long ago, they'd been looting and burning the villages of Albion, and some folks still believed Wolves were savage barbarians. For the first time since meeting him, Rutger noticed, Trajan looked like the fierce, grim warrior Rutger imagined all Wolves to be. For the first time, Rutger could imagine his new friend leading an army of Wolves into battle, a howling war cry rumbling out of their chests, their swords raised high to honor their gods.
"Think of what he did to the Chapterhouse," Sierra said. "Imagine that happening in the camp."
Rutger slammed back the last of his ale.
"Let's ride," Trajan said.
As they left the pub, Rutger glanced backwards, at the comforting hearth and the empty mugs lined up on the bar.