Tale of Four

Oliver looked up and groaned, seeing distant riders along the horizon, the figures shimmering from the heat before retreating back. Oliver rubbed his eyes, slowly feeling the annoyance that came with the expedition. Despite the name, the Desert lands weren’t completely barren, and sand lands. The areas that bordered the Valleys and Forest slowly changed as one moved on, greenery replaced by yellow.

The march had been fine so far. It had been a long march, taking two weeks just to get in sight of the first fort they needed to capture before being able to lay siege to the Waterway. If it had been only a march and raids that he had to deal with, Oliver wouldn’t have cared so much, but what made it terrible was the weather as they got deeper into the desert.

"This is nothing like summer in the Flatlands," Oliver said, rubbing his brow, finally taking his helmet off. From his side, Henry chuckled and looked at him.

"The desert is unforgiving. Be lucky we are marching for the Waterway. The land that way is at least bearable. Lord Alkaris and his forces will struggle when they march south." Henry casually said, seemingly unaffected by the heat. Shooting him a strange look, it was Clifford who answered.

"He has been on numerous expeditions throughout the Desert on Lord Stoneheart’s orders previously. Securing trade and whatnot." Waving his hand, Clifford sighed and took a sip from his leather pouch, making sure to be careful not to drink too much or spill a single drop. Oliver groaned and tugged at his armour, finally shaking his head.

"I need to get out of this. I can’t anymore."

"No," Henry said seriously. "You stop now, and you will be left behind. No one wants to wait. Just keep yourself hydrated." Looking deeper into the desert where the riders had vanished to, he frowned, "You may not know, but at night, it gets much cooler, so look forward to that." Oliver gronaed and heard a horse approaching from behind. Jeremy rode with a raised chin, his previous sadness gone with his newfound pride in his knighthood.

"The brat has a little jump in his step now." Clifford said with a small smile, "Ser Cross." Placing his hand on his chest, he chuckled, getting a wide smile from Jeremy. "Although, has he even slept with a woman?"

"No," Jeremy replied instead, "Oliver said I should wait until I’m older." Henry and Clifford shared a look before staring at Oliver.

"You let the boy come to war, but don’t let him sleep with a woman." Looking to Jeremy Henry, carried on, "Don’t die before you do, or you won’t know what you missed."

"He is thirteen, Henry."

"He has killed a man. In my eyes, he’s an adult already." Henry shrugged, "Besides, ain’t that strange. Many squires in the Valleys do it at around his age. War isn’t the only way to let a boy grow up." Oliver looked at him and sighed.

"Whatever you say." Oliver turned back into the distant sand hills, seeing riders appear once more, watching the convoy of men. Like wraiths, they had appeared and vanished, always able to avoid scouts they had sent ahead, watching them at every chance. It wasn’t just him, but most men who felt tense whenever they appeared, the riders vanishing before any actions could be taken. "How are they doing it?" Henry followed his gaze.

"It’s their home."

"But to avoid our scouts every time and get so close. In the Flatlands, after all, a while it gets impossible." Oliver watched as the riders made a mental note of the force’s strength vanishing just before they marched, and could take action and chase them away.

"If it were an army they approached with, things would be different, but a handful of riders. We will never be able to see them coming." Henry replied with a casual tone. "The desert is harsh, maybe only rivalled by the Deadlands far north if the stories are true. Men born in such conditions learn to become one with their land, fighting it to survive. Those who grow old from such a condition are all hard bastards. As much as I dislike these rats, I will give credit where it is due. They are shaped by their environment to be tough bastards. Why do you think the only time Kript has ever been threatened was when the first King unified the continent? Because no one can ever face both the desert and its people at once."

Oliver, Clifford and Jeremy looked at Henry with frowns, hearing his words. The man chuckled, seeing it and waved his hand, "Don’t worry too much. Our war isn’t won by storming Kript but by holding the Desert at bay. All we need to do is secure the Desert’s Gate, and the Valley will be protected. Marching any further is pointless."

Thinking of the line of forts that defended the Desert’s eastern side, Oliver clicked his tongue, "Easier said than done. How many forts make it up, five? Five separate sieges, as well as the siege of the Waterway, we need to start."

"Four." Clifford replied, "There are only four forts, but even then, your concern still stands. Luckily for us, we only need to capture one fort before we can move on to the Waterway. Lord Alkaris, when he has mobilised the rest of the Valley, will take the rest and then from there, it is up to him to decide." Clifford smiled to himself, "Although I doubt he will be satisfied with just that much and try to move past Saltpoint for Kript."

Oliver looked ahead at the ever-spreading desert and groaned, "Have we got any news about the rest of the war situation?"

"Not yet. Besides, we are never the ones who get told these things, which are saved for the Lords and whoever they wish to tell." Henry said with annoyance, "Although when words of the Hills moving reach us, it will likely spread. It’s great for morale."

"And the King?" Oliver asked, making the two fall silent. Jeremy looked at them with a confused look, wondering why they were so silent. "Is there a problem?"

"Maybe. No one wishes to say it, but the chance of the King fighting at the Waterway is low." Clifford said in a low tone, "Hampton has the clearest path to Everlight and is where Prince Brandon has his largest support base. Besides that, he is the King. Taking to the field is soemthing he must be careful about every time he does. No one doubts his ability, but on the battlefield, one stray arrow is all it takes." Clifford’s hands tightened around the reins of his horse. "Down south, we will likely get one of his children or another member of the Royal family sworn to him, although I can’t think of the others who have."

"That guy could come." Henry said, laughing to himself, making Clifford groan, "If it’s Vincent, I’d rather they send no one. That man is just the worst. You may not know Oliver, but Prince Vincent, the King’s youngest half-brother, is a snob without a good thought in his mind."

"Should you really speak of royalty like that?" Oliver asked, "Besides, how would you know?"

"Because he toured the Valley once. Saw him in a tournament where he was hit off his horse in a joust. A total snob and coward. You know when he fell in the dirt, he looked at himself, covered in it and cried. Just a shit fighter and even worse person. Some men can be snobs when it’s deserved, but not him." Henry said and looked at Clifford, remembering soemthing. "And then there’s that title."

"The Glamorous." Clifford said with a dry chuckle, "Any man who titles themself usually compensates for soemthing." Oliver and Jeremy looked at one another. In the young boy’s eyes, he saw the illusion he had created of the Royal family shatter ever so slightly.

"Is there anyone else then?" Oliver asked, making the two look at one another.

"His children, other than the weird one," Clicking his fingers, he tried to remember, "What’s his name, Matt, I think. Anyway, Prince Elias seems like a good fighter from what I’ve heard, and his daughter, to her credit, apparently went a few rounds with Lord Clover in the joust that started this whole thing." Clifford thought for a moment and shrugged, "I dunno if there are any other Cosmatons supporting him, to be honest." Clifford said with a trailing voice, releasing the terrible reality.

"But the King is at least with us." Oliver said, trying to make things seem better, "He is the best we can hope for during war."

"No," Jeremy spoke, surprising Oliver. Looking at him, he turned to the two others, who nodded.

"They have an uncle similar in age to him. Cleeve Cosmaton. I’m surprised he didn’t side with the King, but that man is like King Anton. I heard stories about his efforts during the Desert Rebellion and his time abroad. He’s a good general and even better warrior. Some say better than the King himself." Oliver frowned and looked ahead, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh.

"Well..." Opening his eyes, he smiled, "At least we have Lord Alkaris and Sunflare." The two nodded in agreement. What couldn’t be made up for with Cosmaton’s help was easily replaced by the two Lords.

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