Fort Silence

When Kargth returned to the cave entrance with the twenty odd souls early in the morning, with five of them being children the other women, the fort felt like a crypt. Its dark stone and empty halls less inviting then a grave. Now with the help of Tallarn as an intermediary, work was being done to resurrect these halls. The several cattle brought along were stored in the stable area, along with the solitary horse. There was not much food for them, and the ground harsh stone. So, a farm hand, only nine years of age, decided to take a sword looted from the now defunct camp, and cut down grass from the surrounding forest. Now these animals had food to eat and bedding to rest on. More than could be said for the adults and children. The haphazard camp raised by the now dead refugees was broken up. The items redistributed to the living. Backpacks, food, rope or even some personal effects were given to those most in need. But it was not enough. The new inhabitant were tired and malnourished. Their time as slaves breaking their bodies almost as much as their souls. The feeling of safety was quickly being replaced with hunger and tiredness.



Although there was what seemed rudimentary kitchens deep inside the halls, there was nothing to fuel these hearths. A few of the women had brought iron pots or skillets, mostly items that they have recovered from the stores left at the bandit camp but there was nothing of substance to cook. There were not enough beds either. The old campsite contained five travel blankets for its original occupants, no more. The nights were cold here, the stone floor even more so. So Kargth decided what must be done.



The small crowd huddled around the campfire at the entrance to the cave. All that remained now of the original campsite. Kargth spoke to the boy Tallarn, who was now acting as his voice to the crowd, as Kargth’s gasp of their language was still rudimentary at best.



“Ask them who knows how to…” Kargth struggled with the word. “Make beds from…trees”



“Do you mean carpentry?” Tallarn replied, squinting his eyes up at Kargth, he was only hip height at best to the knight, and Tallarn was not a small child.



“I think so. Make chairs and…tables of… wood.” Kargth said trying to describe what he was thinking.



“That’s carpentry alright,” Tallarn said, nodding his head. Addressing the crowd now, Tallarn raised his voice, not that he needed to much. Everyone was hanging on to every word spoke by Kargth, even when he was conversing with the boy. “Does anyone here know any carpentry?” The boy asked.



Some of the women looked at each other, one or two raised their hands. One spoke. “A little bit, I had to fix a few tables and my bed last winter after a storm. I think I can do it.”



“It will…have to do.” Kargth said. Now addressing the crowd personally. “I will cut…down some…trees. You will…make beds for us. Others will make…” He looked at the boy for help, trying to gesture.



“Lashings” the boy said after a bit of interpretation.



“Lashings” confirmed Kargth. Noting to remember that word. “Others will make…fire wood. Or look for food in…the forest. Do not…go far.”



At this, the group broke off to their tasks. Kargth selected a large iron axe that had been collected with the rest of the spoils left in a pile with the rest of the weapons. And went outside to begin his work. Some of the women and children also dispersed into the forest, searching for forage or animal tracks. There was enough food already to last a few days at most with severe rationing, but Kargth did not like the chances. Walking a few metres out of the cave into the dense forest. Kargth chose a smaller tree, almost a sapling compared to the ginormous tree’s around him several so high he could not see their canopy. He readied himself at its base and began to swing. Great chunks were being taken out of the tree’s stump. The axe digging deep into the wood. With only a half dozen swings the tree began to snap and fell with a crash. Kargth began to break it apart, separating branches from logs and twigs from branches and began to haul it back to the camp. Dragging it along the ground behind him. Back at the camp, the two carpenter women had already instructed other women on how to create lashings. And when Kargth arrived, quickly came to cut up the wood into smaller parts to be used for their tasks.



In under three hours, five basic cots had been made, at the expense of three small trees. It was near midday now, the sun directly over the cave, it was hot outside, but refreshingly cool inside. A blessing and a curse it would seem. After bringing in a fourth tree and letting the women cut down this one to create the next set of cots, he directed another three women into the tunnels, lighting the torches he had place in their cupolas as he went. He led them to the nearest kitchen space and directed them to begin lighting the hearth and prepare it for food that will soon arrive from the foraging parties. It took a few minutes for the sticks and twigs to light, but eventually a hearth was made, the smoke and ash billowing up smoke holes in the ceiling, leading to some exit point on the surface. When Kargth once again reached the surface, he saw that another cot was almost completed, as well as the first set of foragers returning with berries and roots of plants. Once again, he led them into the tunnels, showing them a large room near the kitchen space where the women inside were beginning to prepare pots and pans for cooking, becoming familiar with the strange stone stove system. In the room Kargth was showing them the food was to be stored for easy access to the kitchens, as well as to stay cool and dry. One final time he rose from the darkness of the tunnels, the dust on the floors now swirling in the air, kicked up by feet and loot. Kargth walked back into the forest to collect another tree, by the time he returned a system had begun to appear. One of the carpenter women was commanding the cot construction, showing three other others how to lash or tie the knots needed. The children were ferrying tinder and small branches to feed the kitchen and Tallarn was directing the foraging parties to rooms to store their bounty. Eventually even the looted items were separated and stored haphazardly in separate rooms. Weapons were separated from tools; food was being separated by spoilage. It was beginning to be cohesive. By night fall, enough cots had been made for everyone, as well as a few rudimentary tables and benches for the kitchens to work with.



They all ate in the kitchen, the stored rations eaten with nuts and berries from the forest. Kargth watched on as they ate. Eating as fast as they could, every morsel, this was probably the best meal they’ve had in a long while Kargth noted. A few tried to give him food to eat, but Kargth declined. He had no mouth to eat with. No intestines to digest food or drink. The smell was still delicious, but he had no want to consume it. Once the last crumb had been eaten. Kargth addressed one more the crowd of two dozen. Now looking much better fed, but even more tired.



“You have…done well today.” Kargth began. “This place…has become more alive… then it has in a long…time. You have come with me… without knowing me. You gave me… your trust. This is my…home. I welcome you to it. “He spread out his arms, gesturing to the room around him. “ You may stay here… as long as you wish. If you do… I expect you to…help. No meal is free here. Also… there will be no…stealing.” Kargth placed his hand on the holstered hilt of his sword. “Or you will meet the same…fate as your…captures. All will do…their part.”



Some of the women nodded at this, others gave each other strange glances. One woman spoke up, one of the forage party.



“Sir, this place is safe, it is luxurious compared to where I live. Could we.” Her head lowered. “Bring our families here? Some of us had husbands that still live back home. Children that we miss dearly. I did not live far from here; I was taken while finding herbs for my child’s illness. I miss him dearly; they probably think I left them.” She was near sobbing. Another woman put her arm around her, consoling her.



Kargth thought for a moment. More manpower will be needed to defend this place it is true, once word of the bandit deaths spreads. Others will come looking, either for revenge or to steal what we had taken.



“Very well.” Kargth said. “You may bring your families.” A few of the woman started shouting and smiling at this news. “But,” Kargth raised a gauntleted finger “We will have to do it … village by village in … parties. This place is still not …safe. Bandits … still roam these lands. We shall…visit the first village…in the morning. For now,…rest.”



So, they did. Curling up on their cots and make shift blankets. Kargth was pleased. He did not know why, but he felt like he was doing what he needed to do. Kargth began to walk back towards the entrance to the cave. The corridors were warm now, the fire from the kitchen warming the air and the floors to a comfortable temperature. Picking up his axe once more, Kargth headed back into the forest to cut down more trees, to make ready for their new occupants. It seemed Kargth had found something to do when others slept.

The Bandit camp lay just over a day’s distance away through the dense forest. The great ironwood tree’s grew dozens of metres into the canopy above, shielding the forest floor in a constant twilight. This made travel through off tracks extremely slow moving and dangerous. Root systems sprung and dove into the ground like tangled string. Feet and equipment can be easily snagged or tripped without careful watch. It was in the perpetual shade of one of these trees, snug tight in between great roots leading to the base of an iron wood that Kargth had tasked the camp to be set.



Two dozen militiamen were preparing the camp for the night. This was their fourth raid this month and many were now becoming experienced in efficient camp skills. Tents were setup and hidden amongst the groves and roots, fire pits were dug and lit and sentry positions made and posted in now little under forty minutes. Kargth was impressed, just over a month ago many of these people would have cut themselves on trying to grasp a sword, now they were beginning to show real potential. Steady meals and purpose can do wonders for the psyche. The gear that the peasants turned warriors wore was still haphazard, but slowly less so. At least they were being cared for to a decent level now. The black smith back at the fort had been working tireless to buff out or scrape off rust spots and dints.



The raiding parties were separated into two clear groups, the Vanguard and the Main force. There were 8 Vanguard troops in this raid, wearing dark leather armour smeared in mud and dirt and sported bows or short swords. Their mains goals were to locate enemy positions, remove forward sentry locations silently and sow discord when the attack had begun. The main force, which counted for the remaining sixteen wore combinations of chainmail or plate armour and wielded pikes, long swords and shields. It was a system that had worked before on other bandit strong holds and showed no signs of stopping now.



“Are your men ready?” Kargth asked to a woman in plate armour and carried a sword and shield. She was of medium height with short blond hair and an angular tanned face. Her name was Cyrene Rel, before her second life she had been a slave, captured when her home was pillaged, and her husband and children burned three years ago. She spoke little of what happened after. Her face was slashed with scars that spoke louder than she ever could about what those dark years had done to her.



“Yes, Commander.” She replied, watching the others as they began to unfurl cloths for sleeping and preparing meals. “The men are ready for tomorrow. Baylar still has a slight limp from the arrow wound to his thigh from last time, but he should be fine as a rear guard.”



“Still can’t believe he got shot in the ass!” Yelled a man nearby gleefully, now leaning over the fire with a small iron pot, stirring a broth.



“Shut up Tel!” Sounded another, within one of the small A frame tents. Baylar it seemed. “It wasn’t my ass; it was my thigh!”



“Anyway, Commander.” Cyrene said, with a slight smirk on her scarred face. “The men are ready as ever. We’re expecting about thirty men from what the scouts have reported. All on foot, most are carrying bows or short swords. Highway men from what it sounds like. Their hide out is dug into a small boulder outcrop, so it was hard to get a correct count. They think no one knows they’re there, so were not expecting too many sentries, nor for them to expect company. Should be a slaughter.” She said those last few words with relish. She wanted to kill them, Kargth was seeing it in a few of the others, the same look in their eyes. They wanted revenge, to give pain to those that had given them so much turmoil. Kargth knew that once battle was joined, they would kill them all. They were barely controlled animals once the scent of blood reached them. All of them had a story to tell, like that of Cyrene. Their first lives had been harsh and unfair, and they were sure to make sure it never happened again.



It took them the rest of the day to make it to the outskirts of the highwayman hideout. It was dark now, just past dusk. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing from in between the cracks in the forest canopy. In the distance, amongst what seemed to be a cliff face that had suffered a great rock fall sometime in the past, spots of light could be seen from lit fires. From Kargths current position he could see just over a dozen, which collaborates the reports of approximately thirty men. Several large boulders lay strewn across the landscape ahead of them, creating natural corridors and scrambles. From the road nearby, the fires would be invisible. For Kargth and his men coming from the opposite direction through the forest though, they were as clear as the sun. Looking over to Cyrene, Kargth gave her a curt nod, giving her the order to go ahead with the plan. Eight figures from the group began to move forward, low and silently they dispersed into the terrain. Most had been game hunters, a few were captured bowmen who were liberated from slavers. Now they hunted bigger game. After thirty minutes had past, one of the fires had suddenly gone out.



“That’s our que.” Whispered Cyrene, even though they were far away from the campsite to not be heard, the message was still sent. “Forwards men.”



Kargth led from the front, the tip of a spearhead formation. As they got closer to the campsite, a body could be seen amongst the brush, moving forward Kargth saw it was a highwayman in leather armour, his dick out and an arrow through his neck. Shot where he stood, taking a piss. The man to his right giggled at the sight but stopped once Kargth turned his helmeted face to him. They had reached the hide out proper now, a few more dead highway men greeting them, slumped against the boulders with blood sprayed behind them, staining the rocks. The sounds of fighting could be heard now. The Vanguard had been discovered. Kargth spoke, loud and clear, both to his men, and to the besieged bandits.



“Kill them all.”



Unsheathing his sword from his scabbard, Kargth ran into the mazed corridors of stone, heading towards the loudest sounds of fighting. His great bulk barely able to fit thought the tight corridors. The rest of the militiamen began to spread out amongst the stones in groups of threes. Forming hunting packs as they moved towards fires or sounds. Above him, Kargth felt the weight of someone jumping down on him from one of the boulders. Screams of anger and fear were heard from this mass of leather and rags. Kargth bent over, the highwayman clinging to his back, stabbing some sort of knife into where the base of his neck would be.



“Die you scum” It groaned in between stabs. Kargth backed himself up against the rock, smashing the clutching man between Kargths bulk, and the hard stone. Several cracking noises could be heard, as well as a gasp of air, blood sprayed from the assailant’s lips as he went limp and slid slowly off Kargth. Turning awkwardly around, Kargth drove his sword into the chest of the man, now slumped against the ground, clutching his stomach. He groaned once more, a shudder and made no more sound. Kargths sword now swirling with arcane symbols as the blood from his attacker began to feed its way up the length of the blade. The rents that the ambusher had made in his back begin to meld once more. Moving forward, Kargth came to a large opening, a camp fire and several small tents scattered around. Another highwayman lay strewn across the fire pit, the sound of his burning flesh filling the air. His armour would be of no use know, Kargth would have to find the mans killer and reprimand him for that. Three others were here as well, two militiamen vanguards and one more highway man. The Militiamen were encircling him, their short swords glinting off the slowly smothered fire. The highwayman looked over at Kargth for an instant, a look of dread appearing his face. It was all the vanguard needed. They attacked, one slashing at his legs, the other driving for his throat. The bandit was able to parry the first attack in time, but was too late in averting the second, as the sword slashed fast across face, grasping his gaping wound instinctively the parried man drove his sword into his chest, killing him. Looking over at me, the two vanguard began to approach.



“My lord, one said in between gasping breaths.” We we’re able to kill several of them before the rest knew. Our estimates were slightly over. There are twenty men here, not thirty. We’re almost killed them all as it is now.



Kargth began to think. So far, the scouts had been correct in their assumptions with other camps, down to almost the man. The terrain here led to some guessing, but not to the length of one third over estimation. Suddenly Kargth knew.



“It’s a trap”

Cyrene arrived on boat at the outskirts Mason’s bay, the valley’s harbour town. She was bone tired from the two weeklong trade mission to Isra. The town looked in bad shape she observed as it came into view, although it was the largest community in the valley by far, several empty buildings lined the riverbank. Only the occasional fisherman sitting on the side of the main wharf could be seen in the early morning mist as the Isran Trade ship glided into the small harbour. Although the town boasted 400 members in its community, almost a hundred of that number were smugglers, slavers or accomplices of the various outlaws in the area. Some were able to flee before the bulk of the militia was able to move in almost a month ago, most were not, and their blood turned the murky brown river of the docks a tint red for almost a day. This left several properties, business and homes suddenly without owners, which the Militia quickly took over. The community had yet to be able to recover from the sudden loss of population and business, as immoral as they were. As the main trading hub of the area, being the only possible access to the Quite River it was an economic and strategic asset to whoever controls it. As such, the garrison of militia soldiers here was almost as large as the one back at Fort Silence.

That was about to change. Cyrene thought. The large trade vessel slowed and was tethered to the main wharf as platoon of just over thirty Isran soldiers began to disembark. Their armour and gear clean and well maintained, a stark contrast to the surrounding environment of mud and dirt. They lined up in neat rows on the solid ground of the wharf, awaiting orders to disembark the rest of the gear. A look of disgust or boredom seen on many of the men’s faces. As part of the trade deal, the Isran Empire asked for a garrison of their own men to be present into town, to protect their investments and the lives of their traders. Several of the town’s folk began to appear now, alerted by the yelling commands of the soldier’s officer and that of the ships crew as cargo began to be unloaded.

It took Cyrene almost a whole day to smooth over the wrinkles that arose from their arrival. Many of the town folk were concerned about the platoon of over thirty professional soldiers appearing and suddenly taking up residence in one of the buildings that the silent militia liberated, which they quickly began to fortify. The anger and concern over the soldiers quickly dissipated once the townsfolk saw what else was being offloaded off the trade ship. Over 10 tons of grain and food stuff and 60 tons of processed iron metal had been brought back from Isra. Food and supplies desperately needed for the small communities of the Valley. The news of the vital supplies quickly spread through out the town and soon the dock was abuzz with strong men and harbour authorities to help unload the vessel.

By the end of the day all the supplies had been unloaded. With the town guarded by Isran Soldiers, the next day The Silent Militia was able to escort the remaining food and other iron stores to the surrounding villages without fear of spreading their forces too thin. Grain and seed taken to the farming village of Switch Back Valley were met with applause and tearful words of thank you. With the farmland of the area pillaged by the previously roaming bandits, this gift was a lifeline to the community who could now plant seeds for the spring harvest. To the north, the shipment of iron to the Lumberyards of Forest Hill were much needed. The tools and machines of the lumberjacks that sorely needed replacement began to be repaired, with new machines able to be made to quicken production of the precious Iron Wood lumber. What was left of the imports was taken to Fort Silence, along with Cyrene. The remaining iron being handed over to the resident blacksmith, who was overjoyed at working with purified iron instead of scraps and salvage. With the remaining grain used to stock the storerooms to feed the growing population of soldiers and their families that lived within its granite walls.

By the end of the third day after Cyrene’s arrival the first shipment of Ironwood logs was being taken back to Isra. And a great feast was held within the halls of the fort with over fifty of the silent militia present, as well as the captain of the Isran garrison. Although Kargth’s great stone throne in the middle of the head table was empty, as he remained in Isra for personal business, many toasts where given to him, with many of the soldiers raising tankards to the vacant spot. As Cyrene sat to the empty stone thrones right, watching the veritable party unfold in front of her a thought appeared. For the first time in a long time, there was hope for a better tomorrow.

Paylor yawned. It was just past dusk, and his patrol had only just begun. Although it had been almost a month now since Lord Kargth and the Silent Militia cleansed the valley of the various vagabond and slavers who use to travel through these lands, some still tried to slip through. The area was one of the only safe passes through the mountain ranges separating the north from the south, as well as easy access to the ocean shipping routes. Most of the outlaw gangs had learned that they could no longer use the area, but some where foolhardy or dumb enough to try anyway. Normally coming at night through dense forests the bandits avoided the roads and major settlements in their hope to slip by undetected.

It was what Paylor and his patrol of a dozen men, mostly hunters or trackers from their past lives, were trying to prevent. They moved through the dense forests silently, careful not to disturb the wildlife, or any possible outlaws. Paylor felt a tap on his shoulder from one of the men behind him. He turned; the vague outline of his comrade seen in the dim light. He gave him a series of signals.

“Light ahead to the east.” He gestured.

Paylor turned back around, craning his neck in the direction pointed to him. He saw it, just faintly, a dull glow. Coming from fires, a lot of them. Paylor gulped. Was this the counterattack that some of the men had suspected was coming? A mass attack by what remained of the slaves and bandits to rid the valley of their competition? There was only one way to find out.

Paylor raised his hands and gestured for the group to disperse amongst the great trees and to approach slowly, and for one of their number to retreat to warn the fort of the possible assault. Once the commands were given, and the messenger sent, the rest advanced.

It took just over half an hour to reach the outskirts of the great encampment. Moving slowly and with great care the patrol moved closer still. Paylor spotted a sentry just a dozen meters from the camp proper. He was slumped up against a tree facing out. Sound asleep. Paylor approached him, being careful not to wake the sleeping sentinel. The man seemed exhausted. His clothes, such as they were, looked more like rags then any uniform. His sword old and rust spotted. The man himself looked no better then the clothes he wore though, Paylor realised. Whoever this man was, he had not seen a decent meal in many weeks.

Paylor ordered his men to move closer past the lapsed security to investigate further. It was then that Paylor noticed the children. Sleeping in the arms of women who seemed just as malnourished and ragged as the sleeping soldier Paylor has passed. This was no bandit encampment, Paylor realised. It was a refugee camp. Quickly Paylor ordered his men to retreat into the wood line before they were detected. Once again, he commanded a messenger to head to the fort, this time to speak of what was here. Once the messenger had left and his men were four dozen or so meters from the sentry, Paylor called out, to announce their presence to the refugees.

“People of unknown lands. You have been found within the lands under the control of the Silent Militia. You will state your intent in our lands. We are not wicked, but we will defend our lands and our people from any aggressors. “

At Paylors announcement the campsite of refugees buzzed into action like an angered hive. Previously weary and weak soldiers looked invigorated. Their apparent training pushing aside the exhaustion that clouded their minds second earlier. It was obvious from Paylors vision that these men had once been a professional army. You can’t get that level of mental control and conditioning over ones decaying body with conscripts. The real question was what they were doing here?

After a brief, and somewhat heated discussion, with his second in command in the patrol it was decided that Paylor would reveal himself to the now aware camp. Paylor argued that it was the best way to get as much information from them, as well as the best stalling method while reinforcements from the fort were organised and sent.

As such, Paylor took a deep breath, consciously deciding to sheath his bow around his back and walked forward out of his position of darkness, and into the light. To those peering into the dark forest it would almost seem he had appeared from nothing. The darkened leather armour and local foliage that Paylor and the other Vanguard wore on their person made it look at first that a dark human shaped bush was moving forwards.

After a few steps into the light, revealing himself to the awaiting horsemen. Paylor stopped and blinked his dirtied face several times, adjusting himself to the brightness. He kept his arms lowered and at his side, trying to appear as casual as possible to these new comers.

“I am Paylor, Vanguard of the Silent Militia, under the command of Lord Kargth. We control, police and protect this valley in which you have made your campsite. You are lucky we we’re the first to find you. Others stalk these forests, those of whom would find no qualm in slaughtering you all for your trinkets and women.” Paylor squinted at some of the horsemen, trying to make out as much as he could while facing toward the lights of the camp. “Although I suspect you would have taken a few of them with you.”

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As wulfric was speaking, reinforcements arrived. Luckily the message of these being peaceful men had reached them before they left. For instead of carrying swords and axes. They carried first aid equipment, food and wagons to carry the wounded.

Paylor smiled as the relief party arrived. “These lands are filled with the weary, the downtrodden and the defeated. What is a few hundred more to add to this? Come, we shall heal your sick and wounded, feed your starved and hungry. House your cold and dissolute.”

He walked forwards as medics and soldiers of the Silent Militia began to spread blankets and tend to the wounded group of refugees. Valuable stock to the Fort, they had only a low amount of supply themselves.

“Our Lord will want to speak with you once you are healed.” He raised his hand as a sign of friendship. “But I imagine he will welcome you with open arms”