Thoughts.com Blogs - Prologue Continued

View Blog

Prologue Continued

“We cannot just order an entire brigade to start scouring the countryside on your whims Magister.” Arch Deacon Schmeedle scowled as he flung the order across his desk looking up at the young mage. Schmeedle was young himself, however with the war now taxing the resources of the Alliance, more and more recently ordained priests were being sent strait into field commissions to administer the growing beuaracry. He smoothed his ivory robe as he sat back down at his desk and picked up an emerald quill frowning as he studied the Magister. The two men could not have been more different. Schmeedle had been born to a middle class family in Gilenas who had migrated here before the building of the Greymane Wall. His features were dark, brown hair tied tightly back neatly as was the custom of his order, his skin pale from the many days spent inside studying, his frame slight almost delicate. In contrast the Magister was his exact opposite. Sub Commander Magister Ross was a commoner; he had enlisted as soon as the war had begun with the revolt of the Orcish internment camps two years previous. A local village hedge mage from Darrowshire he had risen quickly and shown great aptitude at the War Mage College in Dalaran, his tutors often cited his impatient nature as a driving force that kept the young mage moving forward through the ranks. Ross wore his blonde hair short and cropped, his constant unshaved appearance testament to the many nights he spent with his patrol watching for Horde activity on the outskrits of the Kingdom. The impatience of the mage irritated the Deacon. “We have had two reports of strange lights off the northern coast this week alone.” Ross snapped and spat a wad of thick chewing tobacco onto the marble floor of the office, causing Schedule to grimace in disgust. The Magister was dressed in a simple brown and golden robe, which had seen much use since his assignment as a patrol leader of the Northern Coast. Loreadon may be sleeping peacefully but it was still aware enough to cover the North with constant patrols until Prince Athras returned from his investigations. “Very well.” Schmeedle sighed just wanting to be rid of the man. He picked up a blank piece of parchment and started writing hurriedly. “This gives you authority to take a squad from the second legions reserve force to investigate your mysterious lights” The deacon stopped writing and reached for the small dish of hot wax that stood bubbling on his desk. “A squad can’t do anything!” Ross fumed clenching his fists. “Take it or I will reverse my decision and have you sent south to guard pumpkins at the farms in Silverpine.” Schmeedle retorted slamming his seal into the hot wax on the parchment. The Magister grabbed the parchment and turned on his heel and exited the chamber, the deacon did not look up as the heavy oak door slammed echoing along the corridors of the castle.

“I thank you Arch Deacon for your discretion.” A voice came from the darkened corner of the room. “My Lord Rivendare.” The young deacon swallowed hard, he had not heard the Baron enter his office. The Baron stepped out of darkness and tilted his head slightly gazing at the young priest. “My grain fleet will soon arrive at Strathlohome, its so distasteful these burdening war taxes.” The Baron moved slowly to the glowing fireplace and held his black mailed hands out toward the fire. He was an impressive figure of aristocratic breeding, tall with pale skin his muscular frame cut a distinguished figure at court when he was present. " The imperial war taxes however have been easily avoided with our night landings." The Baron finished his thoughts aloud and moved to toward the desk slowly. Schmeedle could see the Baron was dressed in his customary darkened plate armor, his hand strayed to rest on the hilt of the sword blade at his waist. “I just ask to be remembered when the time comes my lord.” Schmeedle smiled nervously, the Baron was known to a be a ruthless man, but he had powerful connections within the Church, which Schmeedle hoped to gain access too in the future, perhaps even secure himself a bishopric. The Baron turned and smiled, his lips parting to reveal his perfect ivory teeth. “Have no fear my young friend you will be paid in full.” The young Deacon shivered uncontrollably at the smile but held his gaze. "Was there anything else my Lord?" Schmeedle ventured hesitantly. "No..." The Baron's voice trailed off quietly. "Not for now."