Silverpine Forest, End of Second War
"M'lord Uldor, the forest is just ahead." Loem rode beside the crude wagon on Praetor, a very different child from when he first followed his father into war. He wore light armor, leather vambraces hiding two daggers that Uldor had begun teaching him how to use, and he wore the red and white of Uldor's house along with the Gilnean crest. The blue and maroon ribbons braided into a necklace he wore under his shirt were the only remaining vestiges of his previous life. The war had finally ended when the Horde fell apart. Stormwind was back in the hands of its people, though the city was broken and reduced to rubble. Still, the Horde was finally finished, the remnants being rounded up and sent into internment camps. The war was finally over.
Uldor had come out worse for wear, however. In the last battle he fought bravely, much like Loem's father had, and held off several orcs at once, only to be struck heavily from behind as the last opponent fell. His back, luckily, wasn't broken, but a large gash was left and he had nearly bled to death yet again. On top of that, he had sustained other, smaller cuts and injuries during the fight that would no doubt scar. Still, they had survived and Uldor had declared that he would follow his king's orders and go back to Gilneas. Too weak to ride, he rested in an open wagon pulled by a couple of pack horses, his warhorse following patiently behind. He'll carry a terrible scar on his back for the rest of his life. It must be painful. Loem watched him carefully, his eyes watching for any sign that they'd need to stop. At least Silverpine is peaceful and beautiful.
"Loem, I'm fine." Uldor always seemed to know when Loem was watching him, worrying about him. "Truly. I may not be able to ride, but I'm not dying. I want to continue your training tonight, even if I have to do it from this damn wagon. King Greymane had recalled his troops, and well he should. We've suffered losses on behalf of the so-called Alliance and have gotten little in return for our troubles." Several nearby soldiers smiled or called out agreement after overhearing Uldor's remarks. Just about every Gilnean traveling with them wanted nothing more than to return to their kingdom and do their best to forget that the war had ever happened.
Loem bit back a retort. While he may be of Lordaeron, he was still under contract with Uldor and wore his colors. Getting into an argument with him in the middle of all these Gilneans would be pointless. Also, he'd just dishonor Uldor and himself. No, I know better and besides, Uldor is teaching me fighting techniques that suit me so much better than what my father was teaching me! I always hated sword and shield training... they seemed slow and clumsy. Daggers are way better, much faster, easier to use, simple to conceal... Father wouldn't approve, he'd think what Uldor was teaching me was "dishonorable" or cowardly, but I'm so damn good at it! Even Uldor and the other soldiers think so.
One of the Gilnean soldiers, Hekter, a friend of Uldor and a rather unusual man in general, rode up close. "Copper for your thoughts, Loem?" he asked, his brown eyes shining with mirth as he brushed a bit of his loose black hair back behind his ear.
Loem tilted his head, indicating Lord Uldor. "I'm worried about his injuries, sir. He refuses to rest much, and I'm worried he'll pull the stitches out of his back. That cut on his head probably needs cleaning again, too."
Hekter just laughed, his dark, metal-studded, leather armor catching a few rays of light as they passed through the trees above. "Oh, Loem. Stop being so damn motherly. Uldor will be fine, and if he isn't he'll know better tomorrow. Sometimes you have to let idiots learn for themselves."
Loem blushed a bit, both at the teasing and at the audacity of Hekter. As far as Loem could tell, Hekter wasn't a lord, but he often called Uldor names and made such comments. Uldor ignores it, in fact laughs along, but I haven't figured Hekter out. I've never seen him use a shield. He's certainly nothing like any of the other soldiers or knights. I like him, he's funny and lighthearted, but he's so disrespectful sometimes.
"Hekter, don't mess with my squire. He seems to always have enough on his mind without you adding to it." Uldor joked, wincing a bit as the wagon hit a rough patch of road.
"My lord, do you need more tonic for the pain?" Loem asked, but Uldor was shaking his head.
"No, Loem, I'm fine. Just... sore and a bit tired. Hekter, I want you to continue Loem's training tonight. Whatever you see fit to teach him." He turned back to Loem. "Sorry Loem, but something tells me I'll be in no real mood to do anything once we stop. Hek's right, I shouldn't push myself, much as I want to." He sighed again and leaned back into the cushions gingerly.
Loem just smirked and Hektor grinned, happy to have won an argument for once. "He probably just doesn't want to worry you too much." Hekter said over his shoulder as he rode past. Gods, he sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd of soldiers, and I never saw him on the battlefield. Not that he'd last long against Orcs dressed like that. What kind of fool wears such light armor for fighting? Or maybe... maybe I'm wrong about him. Maybe he's not a soldier after all. I'll try to find out more about him tonight, during our training.
"Uh... Loem?" Uldor interrupted his thoughts. "Maybe I will take that tonic after all." Loem sighed and handed over the skin he carried that was already full of the pain-relieving tonic. Uldor just laughed again at his squire's preparedness and took it gratefully. As he passed it back, the shadows grew deeper, the trees closer, the sun falling through to create a warm glow all around them and for the first time since leaving home, Loem felt safe and at peace.
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"Take a good look." Hekter whispered. He had taken Loem up into the hills some way away from camp to continue his training. I've no idea how this is training, or even helpful, but Uldor told me to do whatever he asked without question. He turned his attention below, to a small farm.
"It's a farm, what am I looking for?" Loem asked, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice. Hekter just smirked, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. Hekter grabbed him and turned him away from view of the quiet farm.
"Now, now, Loem, don't get upset with me. Describe it." Loem tried to turn back but Hekter held him in place. "No, that's cheating. I did tell you to take a good look, did I not?"
Loem's mouth just dropped open. "How do you expect me to describe it? I only got a moment to glance at it, and I was distracted, and it's dark out!" Hekter just grinned maniacally and shook his head.
Loem sighed, wondering again why Uldor had left him with this madman for the night.
"Fine." He closed his eyes, trying really hard to remember what the quiet little farm had looked like in the moonlight. "There is a farmhouse and a barn, a little field with young crops. I'm pretty sure there is a small doghouse near the farmhouse, painted red." He smiled a bit, thinking he had done fairly well. Hekter snorted.
"What kind of crops? What livestock do they have? How many people live there? What possible weapons do they have?"
Loem shook his head. "How could I possibly know any of that, sir?" Hekter smiled and let go of Loem's shoulders. He sighed and sat back on his heels. "I'll let you look. It seems Uldor hasn't had time to teach you much about using that wonderful brain of yours." When Loem had turned back to view the little homestead, Hekter moved forward to look as well. "Now, answer my questions."
Loem, confused, looked hard for some answers. "Well, the crops are too young to be certain from here, but they might be potatoes... maybe... And I think they have at least one horse, maybe more, or maybe oxen or cattle, because there's some hay near the barn." Hekter waited for more, but Loem just couldn't figure more out, especially anything about weapons.
"Very well. Loem, look closely at the farm." Hekter paused, then turned toward the farm himself, and seemed to change from a lighthearted soldier to something else. He was serious, focused entirely on the little homestead below, and Loem wondered just what he was going to see that he didn't.
"Those are indeed potatoes, but there are also strawberries on the far side and the trees behind the house are apple trees, most likely. The hay was a good catch, but it isn't enough to feed a herd of cattle and a horse, so I'd say they have just one horse, probably to pull the plow. No cattle, but they have sheep."
Loem frowned, but before he could ask Hekter answered, "Look to the side of the barn. There's a bit of wool caught in the wood, and a bit more on the ground there between it and the house. I bet they did some shearing recently. The doghouse was also a good catch, as it probably means there are children in the family." When Loem turned, completely confused at how a doghouse can possibly indicate children, Hekter smiled. "A farmer wouldn't paint it red, or build his dog a house at all, most likely, if it's a working animal. Notice it's empty? The dog is probably with the sheep, protecting them from wolves. We can then guess that there is at least once child, which usually means parents, so one woman and one man, though it's impossible to be sure unless we get closer and look in the house.
"So... so you're not sure?" Hekter suddenly seemed more like himself and laughed at the question.
"Of course I'm not sure. As I said, I'd have to get up to the house and look inside to be certain, but we can make smart guesses." He turned back to Loem. "Now, what about weapons? Try to answer."
Loem looked back to the farm, but couldn't imagine a farmer owning a sword. "You don't mean traditional weapons... do you? I suppose a farmer would have all kinds of tools, like hoes, and shovels, and maybe a sickle." Hekter nodded, pleased, and Loem continued. "Pitchfork, for the hay. That's like a pike or spear, or might be used as one. And... and, in a time of war, that barn may house soldiers."
Hekter nodded, a pleased smile on his face. "Very good, Loem. Exactly what I was looking for. While it's true that a sickle isn't a sword, they're both sharp and both can be used to kill a man. Think less about weapons having to be a sword or a dagger or a mace. Instead, imagine risks and the potential of every situation and place. Now..." he turned to his pack and pulled out a jar. He took off the top to reveal a dark paste. With a pointed look, he dipped his fingers in and smeared the stuff all over his face. With his hair, pulled back into a horsetail for the night, he blended into the shadows perfectly and Loem finally understood just what the man really was. Hekter was a scout and a spy.
"Now you, Loem." He helped him cover his face and the back of his neck - "I've been nearly caught before because I forgot my neck" - and helped him smear his hair back with the dark, oily stuff. "Your hair is pretty dark, but I think tomorrow we'll do it right and dye it black, like mine." Once the two of them were well covered, Hekter put the pot back in his pack and waved Loem over to the edge of the hill.
"Let's go."
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