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The Lost Stars ChronicleChapter 8: Transactions
The Council had dispersed an hour ago and Bjarn was in his chamber resting. He coughed and sat up to drink a glass of cool herb tea. As he downed a second gulp a quiet knock on his door cause him to stop and say, “Yes? Come in.”
The door opened and Radjar Kath entered, decked out in travel clothes.
“Ah, welcome Radjar. I see you are prepared for your journey home to Hemlock.” greeted Bjarn.
“Indeed, Lord Bjarn, I am. The Dark Foresters will be gone from Drullen Bell within and hour. Lord Blackcloak and his clan has already departed.” Radjar’s voice was stiff with formality.
Bjarn raised a brow. “You have no need to speak so regally in my private quarters, Radjar. What causes this stiffness?”
Radjar coughed and then said, “I have to take issue on how you...dismissed Gladwheel.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Bjarn’s voice was merely cool and curious.
“I feel he finds this problem more serious than you...and I think he is correct.”
“Yet you remain at Hemlock and send Gereld off instead.” Bjarn pointed out smoothly.
Radjar straightened. “I stay because the Dark Foresters need me...and that Rosa requests it.” he added quietly.
Bjarn smiled and nodded. The coolness in the room melted a little. “That is good...a leader’s place is at his people. I once wandered about seeking adventure as you did and still want to do. However I stopped, to serve the people I now rule. Rosa was wise to recall you.”
Radjar shrugged and smiled. “Yes, she was. However I still wonder on why you were so cold to Gladwheel.”
“Gladwheel has suffered much, he has lost all dear to him, even his only child.”
Radjar said, “I still feel guilty for that crime.”
“Don’t be.” Bjarn’s words were firm, “Aezezal was the one at fault, not you. You were merely a tool, let it go.”
Radjar nodded, them prompted, “About Gladwheel…”
“I was cold with him because he abandoned the Forestmen. Oh yes, he battled in the Final Battle at Orion’s Gate, but his heart wasn’t in it, he told me himself. He has lost his love for the Forestmen. He feels it is because of the Forestmen that he lost all. That is why he was so eager to leave, to volunteer on a possibly suicidal mission.”
Radjar nodded with understanding, then moved toward the door. “I have disturbed you long enough, Bjarn. Rest well, and may Chodan guide your healing.”
“Thank you, Radjar Kath of the Dark Forest. Blessings upon you and the kingdom you rule. May we meet again in times just as peaceful, and much more plentiful.”
Radjar bowed and shut the door. Bjarn lay back down and slept.
Great Ranger Hall was a magnificent structure built inside the huge hollow log of a tremendous Jupiter beech tree, one that had fallen ages ago. The old hall was built far from the loud and busy work in the city, farther out to the swamp in a military stockade known as Caer Jair. The Caer was a circle of huge trees, all tied together by a network of wooden bridges, that surrounded the Great Ranger Hall. It had been named after an old Forestman hero, said to be the founder of the rangers themselves.
As they rode along, Gladwheel seemed unfazed by what had happened earlier. His chest was puffed out, his face carried a look of a determined soldier, and he addressed his rangers with both the tenacity of a veteran and the courteousness of a gentlemen. Gereld admired his etiquette; he wondered if he was the same in the heat of battle, where many a commander lost their cool and desperately tongue-lashed their unit.
Gereld was also fascinated with the Elfin warriors which strutted along the grounds, with their tattooed faces, piercing eyes, and grim expressions. He had only met one elf before, Gonderin, who must have been hundreds of years old but never displayed it.
“Gladwheel, pray tell about these elves,” Gereld asked attentively.
“Ah yes... some of the few remnants of the ancient Elfin bloodlines. When the first Forestmen came to this land, they were all Elves, yet there were no other Elves here. Most of the Elves bred with the humans who were already settled, and in time the human population dwarfed that of the Elves. Thus, only a handful...but a few thousand...remain.”
Gereld nodded and scratched his chin. The two men’s horses ground to a halt and the overgrown gate of the fortress. Two elites, emerald armor pitted with age, spoke in a foreign tongue with Jythemite, and soon they had opened the gate for them.
“Here we are,” Gladwheel announced, grinning, “Great Ranger Hall.”
Inside the hall, Wolfpack, Dark Forest and Forestmen blended together. They worked together as if no conflict had ever come between them. Gladwheel greeted each passerby with a boisterous “Hello!” and a wide smile. He then turned to Gereld.
“Gather your Rangers and meet me at the armory within half an hour. The sooner we depart, the better.”
Gereld quickly went to the Dark Forest hall, and selected fifty men for their stealth, reconnaissance, and fighting abilities. He then quickly rushed over to the armory, where Gladwheel awaited. Gladwheel was already conversing with a dark-skinned brawny man, specifying which weapons were needed. At the sight of Rodurik, Gereld smiled and said: “Ah, Rodurik, I haven’t seen you for nearly a month. All goes well?”
Rodurik leaned on his large hammer and smiled back. “I am well, thank you. My family and I have decided to stay at Drullen Bell, with Lord Bjarn’s consent of course. Denderham is too rough a place to raise Trad and Fina...and besides, these forests are home. My wife had Forestmen parents.”
Rodurik paused and then got down to business. “So, I hear ye need a good many weapons to go on a ‘venture. May I see Lord Bjarn’s permission signature?”
“Beg pardon?” asked Gereld, startled.
Gladwheel was now glowering. Rodurik shrugged helplessly.
“Alas, I have orders from Lord Bjarn not to give out weapons unless they have signed permission from himself. There is a massive weapons shortage, along with everything else, and I can not just be giving weapons away.”
Gereld bit his lip, annoyed. Gladwheel continued to glower.
“However, Lord Bjarn has put no limits on selling weapons…” added Rodurik carefully.
His eyes shown in understanding.
“Lord Bjarn’s orders, the Forestmen need all the supplied they can get right now.”
“I understand…” replied Gereld heavily, “And I am willing to pay. The Dark Foresters are in no better position than the Forestmen.”
Soon the somewhat less friendly transaction was complete, and Gereld and Gladwheel left with the fifty Dark Foresters, with lighter purses and heavy arms.
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