Isubane’s Echo, Chapter 6: The Road to Osenvale

Image by Gemini

The fumes from the back porch of Giblin’s tavern were more potent than the alcohol in his drink. They stung his eyes and made his nose itch, but slowly he felt himself relaxing into a state he had never felt before. Everything around him took on a dreamlike quality, and his worries faded into the background. At first, he had been worried about offending Seleger’s friends, but after a while, the apprehension stopped, and he tried to focus on saying things that did not elicit gales of laughter from everyone listening. He vaguely remembered Gemma coming by with what seemed to be a sympathetic tone, telling him that he’d figure out how to talk someday. Cat wasn’t sure what she meant, but she also said the mercenaries would all be leaving for Osenvale in the morning and that he should look them up when he got there. Some time after that, Seleger suggested they all relocate to somewhere more private.

Catwright, not being a complete idiot, had some idea of what was happening and did not have any interest. It was not that the girls were unattractive; they just made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like the smell of the herbs, and he didn’t like the sense of complacency in their conversation. They complained about their circumstances but offered no solutions and exhibited no desire to make the necessary effort to change their situation. He told them that he was not feeling well and that he felt some extra rest would do him good. This was true enough, but he also knew that once he made his way to the fresh air, his metabolism would deal with whatever toxins he had imbibed and inhaled, and he would quickly feel better.

Beldere was waiting for him outside. The priest was dozing in a chair in front of the tavern but came awake as Catwright approached.

“You know that I can feel you poisoning yourself.” The priest spoke slowly and carefully, as if he were under the influence of the herbs himself.

“Can’t you cut the thread or something, like mages do?”

“Not really, the thread is not normal magic, it is soul based and would be there whether or not either of us were aware of it, just based on our time in proximity and knowledge of each other. I don’t know how. I’ve been connected to you for so long, your… condition is always in my head. I think there is a way to mute it, but I’ve never really tried to”

“That sounds terrible,” Cat remarked unsympathetically.

The walk back to the manor was mostly quiet, but Cat could tell Beldere was struggling with something. “Go ahead and say it, Bel.”

“I would never change your thoughts, Catwright.” It was not what Cat was expecting the priest to say, but Cat nodded in encouragement, interested in where this was going. “I mean, I don’t think I could anyway, but I wouldn’t try because it goes against my calling to ever harm what you are. I know you’re afraid of it since you saw what I did to Dernus Bailer.”

“So what am I?” Cat was curious why the priest had phrased it that way. He knew about the priest’s calling, of course, and though Cat had his doubts about the authenticity of its origin, he could definitely respect Beldere’s conviction.

“You are a chosen of Primythera, a force of nature to help guide Mecre’s people through the coming darkness.”

“Just Mecre’s people? Oh well, I guess that shouldn’t be too bad.” Cat was simultaneously needling and deflecting. It was an old sarcastic argument about how the lesser gods like Neador only seemed to be concerned with their small part of the world. Cat was also mocking the idea that the planet spirit herself would be directly interested in him. He was no Everborn or druid disciple to have such a responsibility. Just the idea of such a weight made him uncomfortable.

“I know you don’t really believe. It is difficult, even for me. I have a feeling, however, that the next couple of years will be telling.”

They made the rest of the walk to the manor in the silence of dark thoughts. That night Catwright dreamed of slogging through a hot, damp jungle with unseen eyes upon him. Beldere dreamed he was tethered to a wagon the size of a barn and had to pull it up a steep, narrow, rocky trail by himself.

The next week went by in a flurry of activity as the hold bent around the task of safely conveying Natalia Sulwood to the city of Osenvale. Carriages were inspected and upgraded, competitions were held for those who would have the honor of providing her escort, and outfits were commissioned for those who would be part of her entourage. Catwright, along with Chatwick and Beldere, found to their chagrin that they would be included in that illustrious group.

“Catwright Isubane the Third! Your father should be ashamed! It’s been too long since I spoke to that old bastard; he obviously needs a hard dose of womanly sense! You are for all purposes landed and titled nobility, and you come here with only two sets of dirty old military rags for clothing? Unacceptable!” Natalia paced in front of him in dignified righteous fury. “I shall commission a full set of appropriate attire, including a fine set of parade armor. I will have a note of account for the cost, including a strongly worded message from myself sent by courier on the morrow!” Cat almost grinned, thinking about how his father would react to such a letter. “And you, Beldere of Ironwood, how is it that a priest of Neador only has two sets of robes that you obviously grew out of years ago? Is this also the fault of that miserly, loafing dullard Catwright calls his sire?”

“I’m sure Colonel Isubane or one of his subordinates would have provided additional garments had I…” Beldere began.

“So you didn’t even request appropriate outerwear?” Natalia pressed. Catwright and Seleger smiled. Chatwick looked like he was trying to disappear into the background. Beldere opened his mouth, probably about to spout some nonsense about how he was just a humble priest who did not require such largess, but Lady Sulwood just rolled over him. “You represent the Lord Watcher of the Wood, Neador of Lendre. Have some respect for your station! The common folk should look upon you and see something to aspire to, not be appalled by your obvious lack of means. No, no more need to speak of it, I shall have this travesty remedied before the sun sets.” Her grim face changed abruptly to a sweet yet predatory smile as she turned to Chatwick. “And you, my dear.” Catwright swore he saw the boy flinch. “Your newly acquired attire is acceptable, but we will have a more formal set made with perhaps a bit of room for growth. I predict you will gain a bit of weight before we are presented before the Duke.” All their eyes widened a bit at this. Apparently, Natalia meant to stay at the castle in Osenvale. Now that he thought about it, Cat realized that it made sense that she wouldn’t settle for a relatively unprotected inn when suites were available for nobles and their entourage within the fortified walls. Cat found that he was disappointed that they would not be experiencing the more entertaining and less formal options for accommodation. He was also not looking forward to having to present himself formally before Duke and Duchess Jamelyn and residing under their thumb, but he was still excited about going to the festival and participating in the competition.

The fittings went as expected, and within two days they all had new attire. Catwright would wear the livery of House Sulwood since he did not have official colors of his own yet. The silver and dark green looked good on all the boys, though Cat couldn’t remember wearing anything so stiff and restricting that was not armor. The dress armor was a refurbished one of Seleger’s old extra sets; it really did not have to be adjusted very much to fit him. The green and white feathered plume on top of the helmet was a little much, and the pauldrons were far too large and ostentatious for his liking. They were basically shoulder decorations more for intimidation than anything else, blocking peripheral vision and making certain sword maneuvers very difficult. Overall, Catwright liked the simple polished steel design with relatively few embellishments on the rest of the armor. It was light yet sturdy, not a full encasement, but enough to protect the essentials. Seleger’s set had far more ornamentation, including at least one thumb-sized emerald on each piece, which Cat was sure held some kind of linked enchantment.

“You should have worn that when you rode out for a joust, you probably would have done better,” Cat teased.

“What? And get this magnificent set all dinged and dirty? Mother would have thrown a fit!” Seleger laughed. Cat’s guess about the enchantments was proven correct a moment later when they strode from the armory and Seleger’s armor disappeared from one step to the next, leaving him in a slightly rumpled set of loose casual linens.

“Wow!” Cat said, seriously impressed. He had only a basic education in magic theory, but he knew serious magical ingenuity when he saw it.

“Oh yes!” Seleger beamed, “and watch this, well, hopefully, it works.” A slightly worried expression crossed his friend’s face moments before the full set of armor appeared around him, already tightened and buckled. Cat couldn’t pick his mouth up off the floor to make a comment. That was masterwork smithing, engineering, and magical linking. “Oh, thank the Watcher!” Seleger laughed, “the last time I tried that, I was nearly castrated! The uh, codpiece was just a smidge too small, you know.”

“I’m sure that was the issue,” Cat retorted with no small amount of sarcasm. They ribbed each other good-naturedly on the way back to the manor as Catwright concentrated on his own set of armor. It was not as smooth, but over the course of a few steps, the cuirass and the helmet disappeared, then a few seconds later, the pauldrons and the greaves, followed just moments later by the rest of the armor relocating to the soulbound amulet’s dimensional space.

“What? I didn’t know it could do that!” Seleger exclaimed. They had discussed the potential uses for the artifact, but Cat was discovering that some of their perceived limitations could be overcome with concentration and practice. He had discovered that when he focused on the item when holding it in his hand, he had an awareness of inanimate objects in his vicinity, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could bring them into his inventory without making physical contact. He then discovered that the more he practiced, the more he could move at once. “Now, put it back on!” Seleger encouraged. Cat gave him an incredulous look but stopped walking and concentrated hard.

The clatter of metal showering onto the cobblestones was loud enough to cause a dozen people to stop what they were doing to look and see what happened. The bellowing laughter that followed was no less resounding, though it came from a single human. How is he so loud? Cat thought. Is he channeling air mana?

By the time Seleger caught his breath, Cat had managed to store all the armor again. “By the Watcher’s brown hairy balls, Cat, that was an absolutely delightful epic failure! You might want to practice that trick a bit more!” Cat wanted to punch Seleger’s smiling face. He knew his own face was bright red, and he had a bruise on his head and shoulder from the falling metal. Seleger, however, was actually crying from trying to hold in his laughter.

“It’s not that funny,” Cat deadpanned, trying to steal a bit of the mirth. Seleger just started laughing again, mercifully less raucously than before.

“Oh gods! Ellie’s perky little tits, I think I cracked a rib!”

“Don’t let your mother hear you talk like that; she’ll crack more than a rib!” Cat chided.

“You’re probably right; Ellitra’s certainly her favorite of the Watcher’s disciples. Speaking of my mother, you’d best set about repolishing that suit before she sees it!” He was right, Cat realized. That armor had gleamed with perfection, and now it had been dropped on the stones. Not only would there be dirt, but dings and scratches as well. It would be a long night.

Two days later, they were finally on the road to Osenvale. Dain and Natalia parted ways with some ceremony and a tasteful display of affection. Dain apparently needed to attend a meeting of local lords to the south but promised he would catch them before they reached the city. He wished them all good speed as the caravan rolled out of Breckan’s Hold. The three wagons in the procession, however, slowed them considerably. Even with the druidic magic and other various travel enchantments available, the three hundred mile trip would take a full ten days.

Rolling hills gave way to more level fields and meadows. The lush farmlands surrounding the small townships made for some fascinating culinary experiences. Natalia was not one who settled for travel rations when she could pause in each village and purchase a sample of the local fare. Catwright had never been excited about fruits and vegetables until he tried some amazing salad dishes with a dozen ingredients from leafy to savory and various dressings made from oil and vinegar and spices. They shared plates of spiced meats with a variety of cheeses, some of which somehow smelled questionable but tasted wonderful.

Their passing was met with celebration and cheers wherever they went. Natalia was apparently well-loved by her peers and their subjects as well as her own. They did not stay in any one place more than a night, but they always dined on the finest each place had to offer and stayed in warm, cozy accommodations where everyone, even the guards and soldiers, had their own rooms. Catwright reflected that every accommodation he had enjoyed since arriving in Breckan’s Hold was larger and far more comfortable than the room in Ironwood Keep where he had grown up.

Natalia took time to speak with other nobles or town leaders, and Seleger took the time to shamelessly flirt with every entity in a skirt. One town even had a community of Lowenti. These small folk were rarely taller than a man’s waist, but that only caused the randy young lord to rise to the challenge. His exchange with one miniature woman was turning Cat’s face red. The Lowenti girl was well-proportioned with lightly tanned skin and bright green hair. She was dressed scandalously by human standards in what amounted to a pull-over shift that stopped at her upper thigh, but she was less than three feet tall and probably weighed less than twenty pounds.

“I know an alchemist who can brew a potion of growth that will last almost two hours,” Seleger claimed with a smile.

“Only two hours? Oh, we’d barely get started in that amount of time. You’d better bring two potions, or better yet, I know a wiley old mystic who can shrink you down permanently!” Her grin was wicked.

Cat had to laugh at his friend’s speechlessness and the dumbfounded expression on his face.  Later that night, after a few drinks at the local tavern, Cat finally had to ask: “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” Seleger was scanning the tavern crowd, likely for more targets of his affection.

“Try to seduce every woman you see.”

“Well, it’s not every one, is it? Only the younger and more attractive…”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do love the ladies, Cat, their shape, their smell, the way they move, and they seem to like me well enough. Who am I to deny them what may be the defining experience of their life?” Cat wasn’t sure how to respond to such a pretentious deflection. After a moment, he sighed and continued.

“You don’t want to court all of them? Do you?”

“Court them! By the gods, no!” Seleger seemed disturbed by the idea. “That would be far too much work and commitment for a busy young lord such as myself. I’m just looking for enjoyment, a meaningful overnight distraction.”

“And they don’t get upset or jealous?” Cat was confused; most of the stories seemed to glorify love and monogamy at first sight.

“Well, some do, yes, but you just need to let them know from the beginning that you are after a momentary encounter. Unfortunately, my methods are subtle enough that some of the duller lasses don’t catch on, or forget whilst in the throes of passion.” Seleger was looking at Catwright now with open suspicion. “Surely when you tumbled some of those Ironwood girls, you didn’t go fawning after them the next day like some love-sick loon.” Cat’s open mouth and silence were all Seleger needed, and it should be noted that enough drink had been consumed to betray all subtlety. He bellowed loud enough for the entire building and people in the street outside to hear. “You did pine over the first buxom damsel to service your shaft!” Cat’s face was red now, and he stuttered a response.

“No, I uh, never…”

“You’ve never explored the wonders of a woman.” Seleger’s voice was suddenly soft, his eyes were gleaming with predatory mischief eerily similar to his mother Natalia. Having had a bit to drink himself, Catwright did not see the trap.

“Uh, no…”

“By the gods and the veils, Catwright, I did not know, but now that I do, it is my duty as your friend to help you through this.” Cat had a sinking feeling. “Attention, fellow patrons, and particularly all of you lovely young maidens!” Seleger’s voice was suddenly like a physical force of nature. “My friend here,” he gestured at Catwright, “has never known the pleasures of a woman! Ten gold for the first young lady to relieve him of his sad innocence and introduce his manhood to her nether sheath!” Some people laughed, some looked concerned, but many a young and not-so-young woman actually turned to look with interest. Ten gold was more than two months’ wage for most of these folk.

Catwright was moving beyond embarrassment into another emotion. This was not him. This was not how he wanted to do this. Seleger was going too far. As women actually started to approach the loud young lordling for an explanation of the exact terms, Cat’s face heated with rage, and he clenched his fists. Seleger was going on and on with his monologue, slurring his words slightly, though he was still loud enough to be heard within a hundred yards.

“Come and provide comfort to this strong, handsome young warrior! He who has never truly known a feminine touch.” Seleger was transitioning into a dramatic and melancholic story. He exaggerated and made bawdy metaphors. His audience was rapt, and like an overburdened dam, something in Catwright broke.

“…his childhood, bereft of affection, for his mother left him when he was just a babe! How could this affect…?” was the last Seleger managed to get out before Catwright’s fist crashed into his jaw.