Defenders of Alderheart
9. April 2020
The bandits looked at me in astonishment. There was a confused, awkward end to the combat. They turned to the burly Mapach, Grimsley, for a sign of what should happen next.
Grimsley just stood there trying to process the scene before him.
Seconds later, more bandits swarmed into the meeting hall. It was a ragtag group of trained warriors and civilians with sticks, and they elbowed their way forward to see what was going on.
Those nearest the front understood. Olive and I held our weapons at the ready and behind us Benna Seridan’s body lay motionless on the ground. Grimsley’s axe fell from his hand and clattered to the floor.
“Benna Seridan is dead.” The words rippled backward through the crowd.
Some dropped their weapons while others just fled. Within the space of another minute the meeting hall was empty and we were left alone with only each other and the corpses for company.
“I suppose we should hold some sort of funeral for her,” said Crispin. “She was their leader, after all.”
“Why?” I asked, the remnants of my battle rage still fresh in my mind. “Why does this Cervan deserve any respect? She was the cause of all this chaos and banditry in the Wood.”
“If we treat her with dignity, we might be able to convince her followers to come back with us to Alderheart,” said Olive.
“Perhaps a pyre,” mused Crispin.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “That will go down well with all these bandits who lost their homes to fires. Let’s burn her.”
Crispin blinked. “I’ve changed my mind.”
With the stronghold in chaos we took our time looking for valuables on our way back to the inner courtyard.
Benna Seridan’s chambers had been thrown into disarray by the battle but we found a few items intact. From her desk we found a rough map of the Crest Mountains which held markings of other bandit outposts in the nearby area. There was also a beautiful wooden music box within which the figure of a Cervan dancer twirled in time with a familiar folk tune.
Upon Benna Seridan herself we found a key which opened the door to one of the buildings outside the meeting hall. There we found all sorts of unexpected riches that the bandits had been hoarding. We emptied three coffers of gold coins into the Bag of Holding and a box of expensive jewellery. There were also two fine paintings of the Wood, the Mokk fields and Alderheart, which Olive felt sure would sell for a good price.
“Wow! Look at this,” said Olive. “The Blade of the Wood.”
Beside a full suit of scale mail there was a finely crafted blade. It was well-balanced and, as I held the sword, it was almost as if I could feel a hum of life within. Like a connection to the Great Rhythm itself.
“I’m glad we decided to show respect,” I said as I went back to fetch Benna Seridan’s body. I picked her up and carried her carefully back toward the inner courtyard. I left Ransley’s blood-soaked corpse behind in the meeting hall.
In the meantime, Crispin and Olive looted the infirmary.
I led the way back into the main area of the stronghold, carrying Benna Seridan in my arms.
The camp was in a state of flux. The bustle we had witnessed before was multiplied a hundredfold. Humblefolk were rushing to gather their belongings and take down their tents. The main gates were open and those that could were escaping with whatever they could carry.
Despite the disorder, a crowd began to gather around us and I laid their leader’s body down on the ground. Olive stepped forward and Crispin lent her some thaumaturgical volume as she addressed the crowd.
“People of Humblewood, Benna Seridan is dead. Yet we are fighting against a common enemy: the fires. We must stop fighting each other and unite in the face of this threat. Tonight we suffered the loss of a great leader, warrior, and fighter. But tomorrow we will march to Alderheart and fight the fires together.”
The elderly Humblefolk didn’t seem too excited at the prospect of marching, but there did appear to be some within the crowd that were inspired by the speech. It was hard to tell, though, whether these bandits were really going to help us or if they were just falling in line behind the next source of power.
Crispin led the funeral ceremony and Benna’s followers dug a hole in the cool soil of the courtyard. Others played sombre music or threaded flowers to decorate the solitary grave.
That evening passed in quiet contemplation. Grimsley released the captured Perch Guard members and they apologised sheepishly for immediately getting themselves captured. I found it hard to believe they were really the best Alderheart had to offer.
Crispin collected some food from the storeroom and located Fat Cob to try to repair their relationship.
“No hard feelings, right?” asked Crispin.
Fat Cob stared blankly. His face was bald and hairless where his friends had been forced to shave away his fur to remove Olive’s sticky slime. He took the plate from Crispin and ambled wordlessly back to the empty jail tent, sat down on his stool, and ate.
In the morning the mood was a bit better but still sombre. It was clear many more bandits had slipped away during the night and Humblefolk were noticing that their belongings were missing.
We gathered those that remained nonetheless and began the trek back to Alderheart. It was slow going with so many elderly and children and carts of belongings in tow.
It took over a week to reach the city. When we finally arrived we were greeted by a delegation from the Perch Guard and charitable Humblefolk who had come to treat injuries and distribute food and clothing. We were immediately ushered to the Canopy to meet with the Birdfolk council.
Speaker Bita greeted us. “Welcome back to Alderheart. Based on our intelligence reports, and the accounts of the Perch Guard who preceded you, we owe you a great debt.”
I stood proudly as Olive recounted the details of our adventure in response to further questions from the council. She and Crispin tried to paint the deeds of the Perch Guard in a more generous light than I would have, but I kept my silence.
“We are glad you have severed the head of the snake,” said Speaker Bita. “The Coalition, you understand. We have all agreed to bestow upon you a new title: the Defenders of Alderheart. In recognition of your efforts we will dispatch an emergency contingency of Tenders to protect Meadowfen within the hour.”
“Is there anything more we can do?” I asked.
“For now, we need to first reassess the political landscape of the Wood,” Speaker Bita replied. “Benna Seridan’s demise will have created a power vacuum. We have no immediate needs but we would ask you to remain within the city.”
“What about the refugees?” asked Olive. “I’m sure many of them had professions and could be useful.”
“You know, it would have been less troublesome if you had left those bandits in the Crest Mountains and established a new town there,” said Speaker Bita reproachfully. “Now we have even more trouble within Alderheart and no room to accommodate them except for the Roots.”
“Perhaps I could help,” said Crispin. “At least I know a place where we can feed all the newcomers, with a little support from the Council.”
“None of us have been dealing well with the refugee crisis,” admitted Speaker Bita. “Perhaps it is time for new blood. Do what you can.”