We crossed into Dunbriar, by land, through a narrow mountain pass. We were home, and as our driver whistled to the ursaphant pulling our wagon, and the wagon’s sturdy wheels knocked against the cobble, I grew a fond appreciation for the month before.
We soldiers were summoned by a duchy officer, onto a campaign south. “...A contingent of a few skilled Dunbriar chosen,” that was what he said. It was from the Duke Ambrosia Seleücrei that our orders were given, and it was by him that our count was imbued his powers. Count Títüs Wíñgætë of the Dunmore Keep decided our selection for the call-to-arms. Such was our honor to be residents of Dunbriar.
Each of us in our company hailed from a different city. Karmalos, from the hermitage of Pinechaste was a swarthy mann—his skin, darkened by long service in the fields under Angelica’s warmth. There, even in that tiny town, Karmalos shared how his training, like all of us in Dunbriar, was completed in a small flattened yard, deemed the settlement’s arena. He’d undergone the martial rigors of learning discipline in the march, to strike a powerful onslaught and parry the incredible volleys from our foes. In Pinechaste, they practiced with rocks.
Guran, who was from the village of Greyania, trained in a shaded clearing, with pitchforks in place of spears. Mikala, she hailed from the Town of Longale, where, in a damp arena, she boastfully claimed to have bested twenty of her town’s militia, in a free-for-all. And from the hamlet of Armrest, Quail Torken, or our creature handler, spoke more to the beasts than he did us. Quail’s silence was on account that his uncle gave him a versary monkey in the passing of his estate, and it was with that little monkey he would practice because that was all the martial availability in Armrest. I, from Dunmore’s keep, received the best training, from the large arena in the center of the barony.
The day we were dispatched, like all days, we rose before daybreak and trained in the fanning expanse of the arena grounds. It was there, on that celebrated arena ground, that my grandfather’s blood paid for dynasty’s honorable and landed holdings, and like him, I served in the gladiatorial arts to increase my prestige and renown within the Dunbriar, ducal, and even kingdom-wide fame. Many could reap glory in the arena, but to be called-to-arms was a different contest with greater stakes.
“Tell, Duke Ambrosia Seleücrei, that he can expect my dear Amius to muster the implored might of Dunbriar’s chosen,” proclaimed Count Títüs Wíñgætë, and with a point of his finger, conferred upon me this profound duty—I would earn my name’s glory in service on the battlefield, at least, one of us would.
We mustered, as commanded, and in our departure, I met the people for whom our very existence was given meaning as martial leaders of Dunbriar. From Karmalos’s home, I met his mother, a nurse. She was as fearful as most mothers, for her child’s call to battle, but I was able to spar with Guran beforehand. I assured her that his talent alone would bring him home. And with our farewells, we left, toward Greyania. There, Guran was the most eager of the village militia, and what he lacked in equipment, he made up for in technique. I tossed him a spear from the wagon bed and welcomed him aboard. His family gathered to wish his farewells. A prayer for Kedryn’s protection was said over the young man. Gone in a hurry, Guran ushered us when tears welled in his eyes. He urged us to drive the wagon to Longale.
I did not know when that Mikala bested her peers in their scrimmage match, only that I was able to know her peers in the town militia were in terrible shape. Could it have been that she was in constant victorious battles? I did not wish to test it, for her temper seemed to prove her claim all the same.
We finally set out to Armrest to depart Dunbriar, and it was there we acquired Quail and his companion. And thus, fondly, I recall his contribution and that of his family’s in our arrival. We, bring him home, from our journey, to be buried with his kith and kin, and to etch on that eternal stone the service by which his home and kingdom could remember him: By battle hardened, and by battle taken, so do leave Dunbriar’s chosen.
