Otherworld Squad

All things considered, Alter was quite satisfied with the current state of this world. The maps were well established, and despite some ongoing border disputes and sabre-rattling the international lines were clearly drawn. From how Oliver had described it the continent of Meios was a size more akin to Europe rather than a vast terrestrial sprawl like Africa or Asia. The young lord’s lecture had lasted for some time, and had been set to continue at a pace were it not for a servant’s interruption. He had been called to the study to join Vaulter and Lucille’s conversation and he was keen to be involved in that discussion. For now, the squad was alone.

Alter leaned over the table, his fingers splayed across its rich wooden surface. The Meios map was fascinating but his attention was, for now, focused on the more local scale. Rillestia appeared to be your standard late-medieval feudal nation. The king, his name still unknown, held absolute authority over his subjects, however the majority of the land was under the control of a network of dukes and counts. The Rillestia map was divided into these duchies. Three provinces in the centre of the nation formed the heartlands with the capital city located squarely in the middle; these were the King's personal land holdings. Seven larger provinces ringed the heartlands, radiating out like a dartboard. Each province was labelled with the name of each ruling family along with their coat of arms. The Masserlind Dukedom held two of these provinces, and were the only family to hold more than one. Grenveine and Cereloss were found to the north and northeast, flowing into their current location of Auserre as the dedicated eastern province. The other names and their symbology meant nothing to them yet, but he was sure they would come into contact with these factions at some point should they continue this partnership.

“It’s a small detail but I notice that Oliver’s family is the only one that doesn’t share their name with the land they own. There’s no province of Masserlind.” Observed Walross.

“It’s probably nothing important but you never know. I’ll add it to the list of things to ask.” Alter responded distractedly.

“Make sure you’ve got ‘Why does your family have two provinces?’ in there. If we’re going to be dealing with noble squabbles and all the chaos that can trigger then you can guarantee that information will be relevant.” Added Boats.

“Fair enough. Anyone else spot anything interesting on here?” Alter asked.

“I keep looking at the date in the corner to see how old this map is but the number means nothing to me. Anyone got an idea what ‘Two-Twenty F.T.C’ means? Besides the number, of course.” Whim tapped the edge of the paper.

“The only thing I can get from that is that, presuming the measurement is in years, something important enough to reset the calendar happened a couple of centuries ago. But let's be real, that tells us zip.” Riptide answered.

“It tells us that nothing of equal or greater importance has occurred for a few hundred years. But I agree, it's nothing to base anything off of.”

Alter shifted the maps around gently, making sure the corner of the Rillestia map with the date was hidden beneath the other.

“Bigger picture in mind, I think we’ve lucked out a little. I do appreciate a corner start area.” He continued.

There were four mapped nations on the northwest section of Meios. Three kingdoms, including Rillestia, were roughly circular and again radiated from a central point. A fourth kingdom snaked its way along the southwestern edge of the section, monopolising the bridge between the continent’s halves. Rillestia occupied the majority of the eastern coast and half of the north. Yet interestingly, the continent map showed different borders to the country one.

“Here’s an interesting difference. The Meios map claims this entire mountain range that dominates the northern coastline as part of Rillestia. However the national map makes no mention of it.”

“Them appearing as Rillestian territory could just be a formality. Remote mountains are difficult enough to settle even in our modern world. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s no one out there at all.” Boozehound replied.

“The Sundered Peaks eh? They sound lovely.” Pavejack smiled sarcastically.

“It’s certainly very fantasy sounding.” Alter agreed. “Well we’ve already encountered a giant human and some invisible monstrosities. Perhaps there are even other humanoid races kicking about out there?”

“I’m not sure whether I find that idea exciting or terrifying, that’s a geo-socio-political rabbit hole I’d rather not have to tangle with.”

“Here, here. Moving on then.”

The southern mass of Meios was noticeably larger, although the size difference was not enough to merit a split. Alter would’ve snapped a hand off for a good map of the tectonic plates but his inner geologist would have to go hungry. Unlike the north, the coastline here was much more jagged. Peninsulas, bays and fjords ridged the page. Most of the land was taken up by a nation called The Empire of the Fourth Calling. Quite the mouthful. True to its empirical nature a number of dashed lines in red ink criss-crossed its territory, the former borders of nations already subsumed. A handful of much smaller countries clung to the edges, squeezed onto the peninsulas or into other corners. Again, one nation cut off the border between north and south landmasses, small markings of crossed swords and castles indicated not all had been well and peaceful in the region at the time of the map’s creation.

Half of Oliver’s lecture had been concerned with this empire’s escapades of the past few decades. The diplomacy of the local kingdoms had been friendly for a handful of generations, the greatest threat to this harmony was the Fourth Calling’s influence being channeled toward the destabilisation of that peace. He believed that his uncle’s grab for power was partially influenced by their agents. Subsequently, once the immediate family dispute was resolved, and should the unit choose to remain, the Empire would be their most likely adversary. That was a problem for another day though. Alter was more than happy to simply have a reasonable lay of the land.

The conversation lulled as the sound of approaching footsteps cut short any conversation. Alter felt a knot of concern take root, the house staff had been fastidious in their ignoring them so far. Was this about to be the quiet yet insistent request to leave? Fortunately his apprehension was misplaced as Oliver slipped through the doorway.

“Been keeping yourselves out of trouble?” He asked as he stepped back over to the table.

“All quiet here. How was the meeting?” Alter asked, sensing the man’s earlier enthusiasm had waned.

“Well, would you like the good news first? Or the bad news?”

“Give us the good first.”

“Marshal Vaulter has already dispatched a bird to the Count’s estate updating them of our arrival, status, and requesting fresh carriages. Normally it would take a couple of days for anyone to make it out this far, however there is one key exception. Lucille. The moment her father and brothers hear she’s been attacked there will be a mobilisation large enough to convince the locals we’re being invaded. Her family is notoriously protective, much to her frustration at times. I’d wager they’ll arrive by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“And the bad?”

“The bad comes in two halves. The first is that this is going to cause a bit of a rift between our houses. Our escort was made up of knights from Masserlind only. In Count Auserre’s eyes, not only did they prove inadequate as escorts, they also allowed his precious daughter to be injured. That’s the more palatable of the options, if her brother Victor is one to receive the message then you might be called to my defense a little sooner than anticipated.”

“He’d go that far?” Riptide’s eyebrows shot up.

“It wouldn't be the first time. One time he knocked me out for bringing her home from an outing ten minutes late. Joking aside, Lucille should be able to calm him down before he can do too much damage.” Oliver smiled sheepishly and rubbed the side of his jaw.

Alter shook his head in bemused disbelief and silently thanked his family for being so boringly stable.

“The second piece of bad news surrounds your more immediate situation. As I mentioned, the Marshal holds an incredibly dim view of mercenaries such as yourselves. He has, very politely, forbidden Lucille from leaving the house without the proper protection of a knight troop. He has also made it clear that you are not welcome to stay beyond the next hour or so. We’ll have to find you accommodation elsewhere.”

“We were anticipating that already, do you think it’ll be a challenge?”

“Not hugely, there’s plenty of accommodation available here. The quality should be reasonable enough, so long as you don’t mind a bit of noise.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage. I had a couple of questions regarding the maps, if you don’t mind?”

Oliver smiled in relief at the men’s acceptance of their treatment and beckoned for Alter to continue.

“How long ago was this map made?” He pointed to the parchment whose date had been hidden.

“Both of the maps are three years old now. You can see the date in the top corner here.” Oliver shifted the maps to reveal the date again.

Alter breathed a small sigh of relief at having gotten away with asking what year it was. Two twenty three F.T.C. Now to subtly find out what that acronym meant.

“What does F.T.C stand for, again?” Pavejack asked before he could compose a more elegant approach.

“From Third Calling.” Oliver answered slowly, visibly thrown by the sudden question.

Alter winced at the suspicious tone of their employer’s voice.

“Is this related to The Four?” He followed up, hoping to distract Oliver from whatever train of thought was forming in his skull.

“Indeed. The First Calling was when the first prophets of The Four began to preach their existence to the scattered peoples of the world. The Second Calling saw the word spread to all corners of Meios, and The Third was the establishment of the temples and the religious structures we adhere to to this day.” He explained, a hint of his former eagerness reemerging like the sun peeking through clouds.

“Then where does The Empire of the Fourth Calling fit in?” Riptide asked.

“Ahh. The leadership of the Empire believes the Fourth Calling to be the unification of Meios under the banner of one holy nation. Their banner. Of course, no one else was willing to submit to their mandate, and their temples are the only ones to preach that specific doctrine. As far as everyone else is concerned, they won’t submit unless The Four themselves give clear support to the Empire’s cause. A century later and not much has changed, so the emperor has settled for military conquest disguised as ‘sanctified liberation’.” A strong dash of distaste coloured Oliver’s voice grim.

Any further discussion was again cut short at the sharp sound of booted footsteps approaching at speed. Marshall Vaulter strode through the door like he owned the place. Though to be fair, he did. A quick sweep of the room with his winter eyes was all he needed to spot his target. Not Oliver though, his gaze settled squarely on Alter.

“You are the leader of these mercenaries, correct?” He asked tersely.

“That I am, Marshal.” Alter responded smartly, reputation preservation mode engaging.

“Come with me to my training field, now. We shall see if you are skilled enough to remain at Lord Masserlind’s side.” His voice was a commanding growl and gave no chance for question or rebuttal.

Vaulter immediately turned and stalked away from the room, head turning slightly as he moved to give him an expectant look. Alter gave Oliver an imploring look, but the young man could do nothing but shrug apologetically. Heartbeat steadily accelerating, Alter followed the Marshal from the room, out of a rear door and into a sandy yard area field with training dummies and wooden weapons of war.

Things were about to get complicated.