The Ballad of Karhoun Esben
Story Post #13
Esben Family Dinner
Orengar the Fat, Shadow Legate and Warden of the Holy Tower greeted me as I entered the dining hall. Unaros was already chatting with him about religious matters. Orengar was too fat and too jolly for a Legate, always smiling. Smiling still, heoffered me kind words and out of Unaros’s hearing told me that I am serving a fine Legate, fine indeed.
He brought us both together and said, “I have been to the Bluff and know its political goings on rather well. Please allow me to write a guide to the Legates for you so that you know well the wolf’s den you are walking into. Believe me, the Baden family isn’t the only danger in the Bluff.”
Unaros stroked his beard and said, “Yes, we’ve been hearing that quite a bit. Thank you.”
I replied, “Thank you, brother. You are too kind.”
Orengar dismissed our thanks with a wave of his plump, ringed fingers and settled down into his seat, to the left of where father would eventually sit.
I hung my weapons on the back of my chair, as is family custom. My shiny new Vardatch was where everyone could see it to remind them of my recent victory over the Oruk.
The Esben family trickled in, first the remaining fortress tower wardens Calum and Hroth. Durgen the Silent, Warden of the Sea Tower, offered me a grim nod while Kylie took her seat next to him, mimicking his grim silence.
Astrith the Fair came next, said to be the head scribe of the Esben family. Astrith has always been an odd one, his job was to burn scrolls and books and he wasn’t even fair to look at. I never knew him well and never mean to.
Valanicia arrived with father’s current wife, Beatrice, and took what I assumed to be her usual seat. I had never met Beatrice before now but she looked much like father’s wives always looked, like animals in a rusty cage.
Vrastith the Twice-Marked was a notable absentee. I had heard he was the High Advocate in the city now, a job in the Port the Orcs don’t want for their own. I had also heard that he was mad as a crucified Elf. Being an Eesben was difficult enough but being born the bastard son of Vildar Esben, born from the womb of one of his own daughters was the cross Vrastith held on his back.
Father was escorted in by Jorund the Hydra; we all stood until father took his seat. They say Jorund can creep, skulk and make his face change like no other man alive. He seemed slight of build and well-mannered to me which probably meant he was a total and complete unscrupulous dog. He was wearing a tabard, denoting him as my father’s own squire, so he must have spilled his share of blood. I remember hearing a tale of how Jorund once posed as a woman for nearly an entire cycle of a moon in order to root out a guard father suspected to be an insurgent.
Once father sat, Orengar began the prayer, “Izrador, great Shadow in the North, thank you for the bounty and strength of the Esben family. While other families in the north starve, we have food on our table. While other clans in the north wander as shameful vagrants our walls are strong.
“Please watch after our newly returned brother, Karhoun and the Legate he serves, Unaros. They are questing to Baden’s Bluff so they might dispose of your enemies there. Please see that they remain strong and always in the Shadow. Amen.”
“Amen,” we all said in unison and Beatrice began to direct the servants in the bringing of the meal.
Father looked at me, “How many do you travel with?”
“Unaros, Suk, the leader of our Orcs, one Goblin and one more Orc….and the Legate’s mastiff.”
Father sniffed in disapproval, “That isn’t enough, your path is long, the Bluff is dangerous. Take a few Orc from us for your journey. I also allow you to take any Esben younger than you so long as they aren’t squired to another.”
Unaros kept silent, allowing me to speak for us. I thanked him, “Thank you, father, that is appreciated.”
“We need a strong presence in the Bluff. If an Esben were to make a presence there it would mean our family could have a stranglehold on all of the Pellurian Sea. Do well in Baden’s Bluff.
“You mentioned that Whitecliff was hard on you all. What happened?”
Unaros spoke, “We met up with the Manticore who made a few of our party available for his feasting and then some of our party…” The legate stopped his sentence, unsure of how to describe our unique situation.
Father looked up from his mutton, “Some of your party what?”
I spoke quickly, interrupting Unaros, “Father, it was my fault. I showed mercy and was foolish.”
He dropped the leg of mutton on his plate and got that familiar look in his eyes, the murder-look, the beatings in the snow look, the banishment to Theros Obsidia look. He rubbed his pock-marked face and asked, “Showed mercy to whom?”
With his eyes looking at me like that I felt like a child again, “Father, we traveled with a friend who betrayed us. But this friend’s father was a Night King and I didn’t want to bring a Night King’s wrath down upon us. So, I stayed my hand and he got away with Unaros’s staff.”
Father’s hand slammed into the table, mugs jumped and knives jingled against plates, “A Night King’s son? You showed mercy to a Night King’s son? Who is your father? What about your lineage?”
“Yes, father, I was wro-“
He interrupted me, “Night…Kings…Bah! Who was this prince you spared? Tell me of him?”
“His name was Vorden, father, he was an Elf.”
“An Elf? Sorceror of Shadow. You spared an Elf,” his hands gripped the table with the same strength and brutality that choked a Legate to death the week before, “Listen closely, Legate Unaros, you are the witness to this. My son is to bring me this Elf’s head in no less than one year’s time, one year from this very day or you, Legate, you are to bring me my son’s head. Is that clear?”
Unaros nodded, grimly.
I spoke resolutely, “I will bring you his head, father.”
Vildar Esben fixed me directly with his gaze and pronounced, “His head or yours, Karhoun, one or the other will adorn a spike on my front gate one year from today. See to it the head on my gate isn’t an Esben.”
Elayle walked into the meal late, taking tension and attention away from me. She wore a dress the color of summer wheat. When she arrived Beatrice dropped a plate that clattered loudly on the table. Father wiped his mouth against the back of his hand and leveled his gaze at the Dryad, “Lady Elayle, if you are late to a meal in this castle, do not bother attending. We dine promptly hereabouts. Do you understand?”
She bowed her head in agreement and apologized.
The rest of the meal was eaten in total silence, the only noise was the sound of the Esbens loudly devouring mutton and servants scuttling back and forth to keep food in our faces and wine in our cups. Father leered at the Dryad like an Orc sizing up a Halfling slave and Beatrice excused herself so that she might check on her newborn.
A Night of Rest
My head was racing with thoughts before sleep took me. These thoughts, memories and schemes flocked around my bed like ravens, keeping me from sleep. I thought about how close Unaros just came to death. Father’s wrath at the Legate would have been tremendous if I hadn’t interceded on his behalf.
I thought about the family’s designs on Baden’s Bluff, father wants me to hold the Bluff for him. That would be a high position, far better than rotting in a tower at his right hand. I thought of the damage I could do once that high in the Shadow’s forces.
I thought about Vorden, foolish Vorden. That damned Elf would plague me for eternity. Maybe, just maybe it would be time for me to fight with the insurgents before a year was up and if so, I could join him. If not, Vorden would die and his head would decorate my father’s front gate on an iron spike. His death was merely a weak link taken out of the insurgent’s chain as far as I was concerned.
This fortress was the first place I had ever seen that wasn’t entirely run by Orcs or Legates. Father has carved an interesting place for himself on the Shadow’s food chain here.
While falling asleep, one strange thought echoed in my mind before sleep came: It is good to be home.
I was woken up violently surrounded by several house guard with spears against my chest. Father was there too, holding something but by the candlelight I couldn’t tell what it was. He growled, “My son, how long did you think you could be a traitor in my own house without me knowing?”
[Note: I'm going to Origins, the rest'll be posted on Sunday night.]
Story Post #13
Esben Family Dinner
Orengar the Fat, Shadow Legate and Warden of the Holy Tower greeted me as I entered the dining hall. Unaros was already chatting with him about religious matters. Orengar was too fat and too jolly for a Legate, always smiling. Smiling still, heoffered me kind words and out of Unaros’s hearing told me that I am serving a fine Legate, fine indeed.
He brought us both together and said, “I have been to the Bluff and know its political goings on rather well. Please allow me to write a guide to the Legates for you so that you know well the wolf’s den you are walking into. Believe me, the Baden family isn’t the only danger in the Bluff.”
Unaros stroked his beard and said, “Yes, we’ve been hearing that quite a bit. Thank you.”
I replied, “Thank you, brother. You are too kind.”
Orengar dismissed our thanks with a wave of his plump, ringed fingers and settled down into his seat, to the left of where father would eventually sit.
I hung my weapons on the back of my chair, as is family custom. My shiny new Vardatch was where everyone could see it to remind them of my recent victory over the Oruk.
The Esben family trickled in, first the remaining fortress tower wardens Calum and Hroth. Durgen the Silent, Warden of the Sea Tower, offered me a grim nod while Kylie took her seat next to him, mimicking his grim silence.
Astrith the Fair came next, said to be the head scribe of the Esben family. Astrith has always been an odd one, his job was to burn scrolls and books and he wasn’t even fair to look at. I never knew him well and never mean to.
Valanicia arrived with father’s current wife, Beatrice, and took what I assumed to be her usual seat. I had never met Beatrice before now but she looked much like father’s wives always looked, like animals in a rusty cage.
Vrastith the Twice-Marked was a notable absentee. I had heard he was the High Advocate in the city now, a job in the Port the Orcs don’t want for their own. I had also heard that he was mad as a crucified Elf. Being an Eesben was difficult enough but being born the bastard son of Vildar Esben, born from the womb of one of his own daughters was the cross Vrastith held on his back.
Father was escorted in by Jorund the Hydra; we all stood until father took his seat. They say Jorund can creep, skulk and make his face change like no other man alive. He seemed slight of build and well-mannered to me which probably meant he was a total and complete unscrupulous dog. He was wearing a tabard, denoting him as my father’s own squire, so he must have spilled his share of blood. I remember hearing a tale of how Jorund once posed as a woman for nearly an entire cycle of a moon in order to root out a guard father suspected to be an insurgent.
Once father sat, Orengar began the prayer, “Izrador, great Shadow in the North, thank you for the bounty and strength of the Esben family. While other families in the north starve, we have food on our table. While other clans in the north wander as shameful vagrants our walls are strong.
“Please watch after our newly returned brother, Karhoun and the Legate he serves, Unaros. They are questing to Baden’s Bluff so they might dispose of your enemies there. Please see that they remain strong and always in the Shadow. Amen.”
“Amen,” we all said in unison and Beatrice began to direct the servants in the bringing of the meal.
Father looked at me, “How many do you travel with?”
“Unaros, Suk, the leader of our Orcs, one Goblin and one more Orc….and the Legate’s mastiff.”
Father sniffed in disapproval, “That isn’t enough, your path is long, the Bluff is dangerous. Take a few Orc from us for your journey. I also allow you to take any Esben younger than you so long as they aren’t squired to another.”
Unaros kept silent, allowing me to speak for us. I thanked him, “Thank you, father, that is appreciated.”
“We need a strong presence in the Bluff. If an Esben were to make a presence there it would mean our family could have a stranglehold on all of the Pellurian Sea. Do well in Baden’s Bluff.
“You mentioned that Whitecliff was hard on you all. What happened?”
Unaros spoke, “We met up with the Manticore who made a few of our party available for his feasting and then some of our party…” The legate stopped his sentence, unsure of how to describe our unique situation.
Father looked up from his mutton, “Some of your party what?”
I spoke quickly, interrupting Unaros, “Father, it was my fault. I showed mercy and was foolish.”
He dropped the leg of mutton on his plate and got that familiar look in his eyes, the murder-look, the beatings in the snow look, the banishment to Theros Obsidia look. He rubbed his pock-marked face and asked, “Showed mercy to whom?”
With his eyes looking at me like that I felt like a child again, “Father, we traveled with a friend who betrayed us. But this friend’s father was a Night King and I didn’t want to bring a Night King’s wrath down upon us. So, I stayed my hand and he got away with Unaros’s staff.”
Father’s hand slammed into the table, mugs jumped and knives jingled against plates, “A Night King’s son? You showed mercy to a Night King’s son? Who is your father? What about your lineage?”
“Yes, father, I was wro-“
He interrupted me, “Night…Kings…Bah! Who was this prince you spared? Tell me of him?”
“His name was Vorden, father, he was an Elf.”
“An Elf? Sorceror of Shadow. You spared an Elf,” his hands gripped the table with the same strength and brutality that choked a Legate to death the week before, “Listen closely, Legate Unaros, you are the witness to this. My son is to bring me this Elf’s head in no less than one year’s time, one year from this very day or you, Legate, you are to bring me my son’s head. Is that clear?”
Unaros nodded, grimly.
I spoke resolutely, “I will bring you his head, father.”
Vildar Esben fixed me directly with his gaze and pronounced, “His head or yours, Karhoun, one or the other will adorn a spike on my front gate one year from today. See to it the head on my gate isn’t an Esben.”
Elayle walked into the meal late, taking tension and attention away from me. She wore a dress the color of summer wheat. When she arrived Beatrice dropped a plate that clattered loudly on the table. Father wiped his mouth against the back of his hand and leveled his gaze at the Dryad, “Lady Elayle, if you are late to a meal in this castle, do not bother attending. We dine promptly hereabouts. Do you understand?”
She bowed her head in agreement and apologized.
The rest of the meal was eaten in total silence, the only noise was the sound of the Esbens loudly devouring mutton and servants scuttling back and forth to keep food in our faces and wine in our cups. Father leered at the Dryad like an Orc sizing up a Halfling slave and Beatrice excused herself so that she might check on her newborn.
A Night of Rest
My head was racing with thoughts before sleep took me. These thoughts, memories and schemes flocked around my bed like ravens, keeping me from sleep. I thought about how close Unaros just came to death. Father’s wrath at the Legate would have been tremendous if I hadn’t interceded on his behalf.
I thought about the family’s designs on Baden’s Bluff, father wants me to hold the Bluff for him. That would be a high position, far better than rotting in a tower at his right hand. I thought of the damage I could do once that high in the Shadow’s forces.
I thought about Vorden, foolish Vorden. That damned Elf would plague me for eternity. Maybe, just maybe it would be time for me to fight with the insurgents before a year was up and if so, I could join him. If not, Vorden would die and his head would decorate my father’s front gate on an iron spike. His death was merely a weak link taken out of the insurgent’s chain as far as I was concerned.
This fortress was the first place I had ever seen that wasn’t entirely run by Orcs or Legates. Father has carved an interesting place for himself on the Shadow’s food chain here.
While falling asleep, one strange thought echoed in my mind before sleep came: It is good to be home.
I was woken up violently surrounded by several house guard with spears against my chest. Father was there too, holding something but by the candlelight I couldn’t tell what it was. He growled, “My son, how long did you think you could be a traitor in my own house without me knowing?”
[Note: I'm going to Origins, the rest'll be posted on Sunday night.]
