Ryne still stared at the King who finally looked away. “Sure, I’ll be outside when you’re finished.” Ryne’s gaze brushed Varick long enough to see the twinkle in the Knight Commander’s eyes. “It’ll be a pleasure.” Ryne strolled from the room.
Almost three hours later, with the sun waning in its dying throes, Ryne and Sakari rode with Varick toward the Knight Commander’s encampment accompanied by Rosival. They left the lights and sights of Astoca behind them to the north. Rosival took his leave when they reached the encampment comprised of several hundred white tents with the Tribunal’s Lightstorm standard flying high above.
They dismounted, and several Dagodin took their dartans. Knight Commander Varick led the way through the neat tent lines. The camp reeked of the droppings from gathered mounts mingled with the sweet aromas of food for a stifling contrast. Soldiers acknowledged Varick with a bow or knuckled their foreheads. Many relaxed at fire pits, either cooking or sharpening weapons, while others practiced the sword using wooden lathes. The clack, clack of the weapons played a soothing beat. Almost every soldier they passed studied Ryne, often fingering their weapons. They ignored Sakari.
“I had no desire to speak around Rosival,” Varick said.
“I figured as much.”
“I was surprised to find you here. And discussing war no less. I thought you retired?” Varick led them to a tent about twice the size as the others.
“I did.”
Two lance-wielding guards stood at the pavilion’s entrance, snapping to attention at the sight of Varick. The Knight Commander nodded to each man in turn.
“Knight Cosar,” Varick said to the one on the left. “I’m as hungry as a starved bear. Send for food.”
The soldier bowed, leaned his lance on the canvas with care, and strode away toward the cook fires. Varick entered the tent.
“I’ll wait out here,” Sakari said.
Grumbling to himself, Ryne raised the flaps and ducked low as he stepped inside. Too often, he had to keep his body hunched and head down when standing inside one of these contraptions.
“Sorry about that.” Varick pulled off his gauntlets and threw them on the plain, wooden table. They thudded next to a bright lamp and Ostanian maps. “If I knew we would’ve found you, I would have had the tent raised.”
Ryne grunted dismissively. “You would think I’d be used to it, but it’s been too many years.”
“Now, that’s the truth.” Varick turned to face Ryne. Smiling, he held out a callused hand. “It’s been too long, old friend.”
“Indeed.” Ryne clasped the shorter man’s arm. “Way too long.”
“Well, at least the years have been good to you. You haven’t aged a day since we first met.”
Ryne grinned. “I wish I could say the same for you. Your hair is almost as white as this tent.”
“Don’t let the white hairs and wrinkles fool you.” He looked Ryne up and down. “I could still manage a blow or two on you.” Varick released the handshake and faked a strike at Ryne.
Leaning away from Varick, Ryne held up his hand. “I’d never make such a mistake, old timer.”
Varick wrinkled his nose. “Although, I would have to beg you to take a bath first.”
They both laughed. Ryne sniffed himself. The smell of death and days without a bath clung to him still.
Varick took a step back and studied Ryne. “So, are you joining with the Astocans?”
“No.”
“But, you said-”
“I said, yes, I’ll fight. Meaning I’ll fight for the Alliance. If he took my words to mean I’d fight for Astoca…” Ryne shrugged. “I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I said it in a way he’d want to hear. After I came here, the plan was to go find you.”
“Oh?” Varick removed his sword and strode over to a bedroll, the only other contents in the tent. “The gods work in strange ways. Before I received the message from the Tribunal, I planned to come to Carn-.”
Ryne took a deep breath at the mention of his home, his hand tightening on his sword.
“I’m sorry,” Varick said. “I forgot. You feel like talking about it?” He carefully lay his sword down on the bedroll.
“Not much to talk about. They didn’t leave anyone alive. Not much different than what I’ve done in the past.”
“You shouldn’t compare yourself to them. You’ve always fought for the light, for Ilumni.” Varick headed to the table and its maps. “There’s nothing but darkness in what they do. We’ve both seen it, Ryne. They have to be stopped, or else we all fall.”
Stooping slightly, Ryne moved close to the tent’s center to better accommodate his size. “I just don’t understand the point to all of this. The killings, the wars. Is it just for territory? For power? If this is all part of a divine battle in preparation for the day the seals break, wouldn’t Amuni secure his powerbase in Hydae first, before he tried to claim Denestia? What of the other gods? Where do they fit in? If Denestia is Ilumni’s, why does it seem we’re always defending? When do we attack? Is this really about divinity or just some story drawn up for us to spill blood so one kingdom can claim another in the name of religion?”
Varick remained silent for a moment. “You’re asking questions I can’t answer. I’m just a soldier who’s been fighting for too long. The Tribunal points, I attack. This is the way things have always been.”
“You ever questioned it?”
“Question who?” Varick grunted. “The Tribunal? That’s not my place. I’m not you. I can’t defy them. If I could kill a Pathfinder, maybe. But look where doing so got you. My tasks are simple. I see a threat, and I respond. We’ve both seen enough to know they’re greater powers at work here. You’ve always sought answers since I met you, Ryne. More answers than most. You say because you can’t remember who or what you are. Yet, even after your pardon, you refused to go whenever the Tribunal asked for an audience. I’ve backed you in the past against them, but you’ve never said wh-”
“Because it’s not up for discussion.” Ryne’s hands clenched around his sword once more. After all these years, Varick was still insistent. “The High Ashishin Tribunal is not all pure like they make people believe.”
Varick shrugged. “None of us are. But we do what we must, as they do what they must. I don’t think you’ll ever get the answers you seek without going to them. Demand bravery by conquering your fear. Remember? It doesn’t only apply to grooming troops. Hiding across the Vallum will only work for so long. Sooner or later, you’ll have to go to them.”
“Well, let’s just hope it’s later. I’ll continue searching for my answers elsewhere. Speaking of which, why were you looking for me?”
“Well, there’s two parts to that. First, The Tribunal has sent several legions across the Vallum in the past few months alone. Many of them raw recruits. Trained Dagodin, yes, but hearing what I did today, training will only take them so far. So-”
“So you were going to ask me to train them, or at least to help.” Ryne smiled. This fit what he needed perfectly. A glimmer of vengeance to come warmed his insides. “How’s the Tribunal feel about that?”
Varick gave Ryne a sidelong glance and a smirk.
“I see. What’s the second reason?”
“Not only did they dispatch these new legions but they also ordered all Dagodin Imbuers to begin crafting divya.” Varick paced back and forth from the table to a cot in the corner. “It really became strange when they managed to drag Dagodin Lucina Adler from wherever she retired to train these new Imbuers.”
Ryne frowned. “The Lucina Adler?”
“Yes.”
“Too much of a coincidence. It reeks of the Tribunal knowing what was about to happen here. Always plotting,” Ryne mused, stroking his scars.
Varick nodded in agreement. “Even so, once I heard they’d dragged her from wherever she was hiding, I thought of you. She’s one of the few people who may be able to tell you the origins of your weapon. And not go running back to the Tribunal, that is.”