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Bloodsworn Ch. 2.42
🕑 Added 2025-06-19 01:25:47 +0000 UTC42.
Sword of Empire launched with no fanfare. No crowds gathered around to watch as the great ship’s engines flared to life, pushing it further away from the safety of the dwarven hold, burning bright as the ship cut across the air, parting it with its wide frame. Erak stood on the bridge with his officers, Illyria, and Sword herself, all watching as the ground receded as they headed north.
“How does it feel to head back home?” Captain Illyria asked, her hands on her hips as she watched the dwarven freehold fade away. The hum of the bridge quieted as the captain spoke, their voices faded away as they waited in respectful silence.
Erak turned to look at her and shrugged one unarmored shoulder. He had been growing used to of late not wearing his armor everywhere.
“If the Sword’s armor can’t keep me safe, then my armor won’t.” Pomp had snorted at his logic, but kept his mouth shut as he lay across his shoulders. Erak turned back to enjoy the sight of them flying across the countryside.
“Not so happy home?” Illyria pestered, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. Nevia tensed next to him, her hand touching the hilt of her sword.
“I do my duty,” Erak signed, not wanting to get into it with the Captain.
“So, you wouldn’t mind taking a brief detour?” Illyria asked innocently. Sword turned her head over to look at them, her face stretching wide in an ugly smile full of repressed violence.
“What is it?” Erak signed.
“There is a station that is on our way. Well, a museum to be specific. For old warships like Sword,” Illyria said.
“For ships that knew war,” Sword rattled, the sound of cannon fire forming her words.
Erak tried not to grimace at the words, the sound deafening in the close quarters of the bridge. He noticed that several of the bridge staff wore pieces of cotton in their ears, discreetly pushing it in as Sword spoke.
“Yes, yes, not old ships, but those who have experienced war. Built for war,” Illyria said, not dismissively but as if tired of an old argument.
“Looking for a fellow ship to cross these skies with, Sword?” Sammus asked, only half innocently. The old warship roared with laughter, the shriek of tearing steel and men dying.
“I have no fellows. I am unequaled all across this world. I have need of refurbishments. These fools have left me to rust for too long.”
Erak held no doubt that she meant the Imperial line who had only used the ancient warship for parades. They had no need to keep the great ship stocked and ready for war, all their foes having laid down their arms centuries ago. The battles the Imperials had fought had been done with words, speeches, and daggers in the shadow.
“Isn’t that where Erak took most of his earlier gear? A museum?” Nevia asked quietly, but everyone heard her.
“Those pale mimics of great weapons, held by warriors far greater than any of you,” Sword spat in distaste.
“It was a museum of the Conquering,” Erak signed to them. His early weapons were lost or destroyed in his travels to reach the dwarven stronghold. The replacements the old dwarf had forged for him were much better in quality and scale.
“This is similar, but for the old airships that they used. Along with the weapons that filled them. With the rush of Essence we hope that the weapons will be worth the stop. We need more shuttles as well and your men need training,” Illyria began her pitch without hesitation. Erak waved a hand to cut her off before he nodded.
“Victoria sent me for allies. Lord Glacies will not respect us if we come as beggars. Let us arm and present ourselves as warriors.” Pomp looked at him after hearing Erak’s inner thoughts and nodded.
“Erak agrees with this. We should head to this museum and gather weapons. It will present a stronger image to Lord Glacies and ensure that he is more likely to acquiesce to our demands,” Pomp said for him.
“He would be so stubborn, to refuse his lawful sovereign?” Illyria asked, eyebrows rising. Erak grunted before he quickly signed to them.
“Not stubborn but ambitious. We must not show any sign of weakness or he will pounce upon us like an ice drake upon a fat seal. He is a predator of the greatest order and you must not show fear or weakness to a predator.”
“And he raised you?” Illyria said.
“It makes sense, sister. Have you seen him fight?” Sammus cut in. Nevia relaxed, half lost as she still couldn’t read the Silent Tongue.
“I have. I have not met anyone who is so comfortable with violence,” Illyria said with her own full, predatory, smile.
“Lord Glacies is. For him violence is a way of life. Ordering or committing it, it matters not. Underestimate him and you will find the bottom of the Ice Sea,” Erak signed.
“You fear him so?” Sammus asked, concern in his voice. The slim prince seemed shocked.
“I am wary of him. We must arrive with every advantage.”
“Then we shall go and refill my weapons bay. If this thin blooded pretender wishes to press his claim, then I shall show him why his ancestor stayed in the north and never came back from his failed campaign,” Sword said with a dark laugh. Erak froze and looked at her, wondering about what she meant. As far as he knew, the Glacies family came to be wardens and guardians of the far north. Nothing of a failed campaign that left them isolated there.
“Yes. Where is this museum?” Erak asked. Sword and Illyria both paused for a moment as they looked at each other. There was a unspoken commitment to each other there, a communication that was built upon a connection similar to Erak’s and Pomp’s.
Erak felt a twinge of unease as the two of them seemed not to want to reveal where it was they were going.
“Have you heard of the city of Elthior?” Illyria asked. The room fell into silence as everyone turned to look at her.
“I believe we all have,” Erak signed as he sighed and shook his head. Nevia looked around at them with puzzlement.
“I haven’t heard of it,” she said. Sammus coughed twice, covering his mouth with a fist as he looked over to Nevia.
“It was the site of a great battle,” he began before Sword cut in.
“Slaughter. It was the scene of a great slaughter. The Conqueror fell upon a coalition of petty kings and those who claimed the title warlord. False titles all, they fell burning from the sky and filled the earth with their bones.” Sword spoke with joy evident in her voice, eyes misty with reminiscence.
“And they built a museum there?” Nevia asked, incredulously.
“Of course. A way to showcase the strength of our ancestors. It’s unfortunate now with the release of Essence upon such cursed land. We are certain that many things will have stirred from their graves or have been drawn to it,” Illyria said. Erak nodded in agreement.
“I shall prepare the men for battle,” Erak signed. He spun on his heel and left the bridge, plans already forming in his mind. It seemed that they would be fighting sooner than he had anticipated.
