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Walf's AdventureChapter 4: Alex And The Bulls
The early morning spilled its dew across the rye fields outside the Golden City’s gates, as the swords had spilt blood there not long ago. Ghosts of war haunted the city as it still recovered. Buildings near the outer wall, some of them empty shells, became homes for the few remaining stragglers of the BloodVaine army.
The Cavaliers of Constantius VII, resplendent in golden plate mail, purple tunics, and horsetail plumes, patrolled the safe areas of the city, not daring to intrude into the now abandoned and destitute outer limits. Tenacious Dragon Masters, called Mamelukes by the citygoers, occupied their ill-gotten and battle-scarred lands with brutal efficiency.
Searil Chordate leaned on the goldstone wall of a domed cantina, listening attentively for any information on the Dragon Master heretics. He heard the steel-shod hooves of a Cavalier steed settle on the cobblestone street, heard the lieutenant as he raised his visor to smell the air, perfumed by the Mediterranean breeze. He heard the leather-clad mercenary, band holding his thick brown hair, as he spoke.
“Grimmel. Back from the war at last?” the gruff voice said.
“They kept me at the Forestmen’s camp for a few weeks after the battle,” the Cavalier grumbled, “And a battle it was.”
The Cavalier hummed as he unsheathed his sword, swung it with a heavy swoop as if splitting the skull of a Black Falcon archer.
“I tell you, have I never seen war as the likes of it, never since Castlemare have heard, nor witnessed, such carnage.”
He held the sword defensively, looking it over as the samurai looks over his, a divine tool of murder.
“We met those Falcon megabloks on the plain...and I shall tell you, when the Bull chariots stormed the Falcon line, a sound as thunder hit the battlefield like the mallet on a drum, and then we Classics were upon them, slitting the Falcon’s necks like they were sows.”
The leathered man gasped in awe.
“The Talistrani island-men, borne from the tropics, rushed their crossbowmen to the line. The champion named Quorandis, Chodan bless his name, ordered our charge. T o the north, those bloody Dragon Masters met the Dark Foresters. Never before have I seen such ferocity...these men are surely barbarians, they have the strength of five men each. I heard the cry of Loughton Line...and the rest, history tells.”
Searil smiled at this remark. So bards sing of men for the blood they have spilled?
“Then, the battle disentegrated. No one could tell man from man, the chaos of the melee was unnerving. My sword must have cut down countless Falcon knights, and those winged beasts must have killed hundreds of Forestmen. Then it was over... for at least the north front. The end was signaled by those two colossal ships, those that sail the air, methinks. They blew up over the gate. We were still fighting, breaking into Falconis’ royal guard. Then I saw it.”
The Cavalier stopped, as if still amazed.
“A Falcon peasent, just a lad, took his sword, and with it, like some angel's blade, drove it through the helm of that beastly king. Falconis was dead!”
Searil chuckled. Tall tales.
Barbod, King of the Bulls, was bored, bored out of his skull. After two weeks of lazing about the Yellow Castle, he and the remainder of the Bull Knights were ready for some action, any action. True, they had had a respite from the dullness while they helped rebuild Orion, but not much could be repaired until wood for timber could be harvested and ships sent to the Black Falcon Isles to quarry some more rare Yellow Stone returned.
Also, the Yellow Castle itself was starting to annoy Barbod. He really had nothing agaisnt it, it was just so...well…yellow. Yellow stone, yellow wall hangings, yellow-painted doors, yellow bedcovers, even yellow chamberpots! Barbod had been tempted to take a can of pink paint the rebel Black Falcons and Dragon Masters had left behind and repaint all the garderobe seats just to add a little deversity. He chuckled at the thought, then smiled a bit wider when he realised it didn’t pain him to do so. The gash in his side had healed up nicely, as had the other wounds he had recieved, thanks to the skill of the Classic LEGOlander’s skilled healers.
They were one of the good reasons to stay a while longer at Orion. Some of Barbod's men were still teetering between life and death, but they would have already been dead if it hadn't been for the healers. Barbod sighed and shrugged. The Bulls would stay a while longer at the Yellow Castle, dispite the boredom.
Besides, Barbod mused, These Classic LEGOlanders sure can cook a mean breakfast...
After a while, Dordrot and Barbod decided to go find some drink. They searched for a good half hour when they finnaly found some. Good old Bull brew of 1990. The Bulls on Bull Isle had somehow brought it with them on the ship and then to the great battle for Orion’s gate.
“Now this will light’n the mood don’t ya think lad?” said Barbod, all worries forgotten for the moment.
“Oh yes indeed my friend, yes indeed!” smiled Dordrot.
So they quickly broke out the rum and drank into the night. They even invited some of the other factions for a ‘wonderfull time and partying’.
“I’m sorry, but the Emperor cannot see you now, he’s terribly busy.”
Alex was standing in the great hall of the Yellow Castle.
“I don’t need to see the Emperor. I just want to know if anyone’s seen my friends. There was Aros and-”
“I’m sorry sir, I cannot help you. You’re not the only one who’s looking for friends you know. Now I would advise you to take your animal and leave.”
The official strode off with an air of distain. Alex sighed.
“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind him, “I couldn’t help overhearing. Did you say Aros?”
“Why yes,” said Alex turning to look at the Bull knight behind him, “Do you...know him?”
“I think I do, or at least I can take you to someone who does. My name is Dordrot. I think you should come with me.”
Alex followed Dordrot back to were he had just been. The official tried to stop Alex again but Dordrot quickly took care of him.
“Thanks again for helping me,” Alex smiled, “I don’t know where I would have looked if you hadn’t shown up.”
“It’s nothing, lad, really. I am bored out of me wits and I could use something to do. And finding Barbod for ya is an easy enough task for me. Tell me though, why are you looking for Aros?”
“Oh...him and I go back a long while. I heard he had been here and thought I would find him, and say a quick hello, you know?”
“Yes. I know all about friends. They come they go...some never come back, and then some do.” Dordrot said, drifting away. Suddenly he snapped out of it and stopped at a door. “Ahh, here we go lad. Barbod’s quarters. He’ll most likely know of were your friend is.”
With that he opened the door and gave a greatting to a heavy set man that was twice Alex’s size. He was even bigger than the massive Dordrot.
“Hello Barbod! I have a friend for ye. He says he’s looking for Aros.”
Barbod raised a quizzical eyebrow at the young man in front of him. “Aros eh? And what would ye have with him, lad?”
“I- I’m a friend of his. Alex Funt. And please, he’s in terrible trouble- or at least he was. I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“Now wait just a bloody second.” said Dordrot, “You never said anything about trouble. I thought ye just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
“Yes well, I’m afraid I downplayed the situation. He was kidnapped by BloodVaine three months ago. But I do hope to say hello...if I can find him.”
“Alex Funt?” said Barbod, scratching his beard, “Aye, now I remember. Aros told me about ye. You were in the Crusader guard right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well then, come right in laddie. Any friend of the Reggas’ is a friend of mine. Though I don’t know what you could mean about BloodVaine. He’s dead, you know. And Aros and Reno have been with me and my men since they arrived in Lord Void’s airship. Now maybe it’s him ye were thinking of.”
“No it’s... I mean…” Alex was confused, “They’re alright?”
“Well they tyco better be. They left for the Drullen Bell with Bjarn not two weeks ago. Huh, these days I wish I’d gone with ‘em.”
Alex ran his fingers through his hair. He was still confused, but what Barbod said sounded promising. “Why don’t we start from the beginning. I’ll tell you what I know and you can tell me what you know.”
“Aye lad.” said Barbod with a sly grin.
The Bull king reached under his bed and produced a large flask from beneath the yellow covers. “Better close the door Dordrot, so we’re not interrupted.”
Dordrot moved to the door as Barbod continued, “These LEGOlanders ain’t bad folks but I fear they don’t appreciate the virtues of the common spirits. You haven’t any idea how hard it is to get a good pint of grog around here. Why if they found this they’d prob’ly replace it with some of their Black Knight wine, or worse, that champagne rubbish they imported from the south.”
“That’s right.” said Dordrot, taking a seat, “This little number is a Crusader brew that I smuggled in here this morning.”
“You do drink, don’t you lad?” said Barbod, pouring him a flagon of the stuff.
“Well, I-”
“There you are lad.” Barbod slapped the pint into Alex’s hands before he could finish, “Put some hair on yer chest, that’ll."
Dordrot took a long draft from his mug and Barbod did the same. “Black Knight wine may be right and fine, but sometimes this home brewed stuff is the only thing that really hits the spot.”
“A little slice of heaven.” said Dordrot in agreement, “Just like me mother used to make.”
“Now Alex, about our friends…”
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