8Bright lights and laughter filled the night as a lone traveler and a wearied horse plodded along the wide paved road. The cloaked and hooded figure made his way towards the light like a moth to a flame. Even the dusty horse picked up a little speed, its shod hooves ringing on the ancient paving stones. As they drew closer to the large building that shone like a beacon, a sign hanging from the front could be seen, showing a boatman and a wagon driver, both with steins of beer toasting one another. The boatman held a pole in his off hand, while the driver had a whip. If one could read, which most of the patrons could not, the words "THE POLE AND WHIP" could be seen written in flowing script below the image.
Indeed, the back of the inn was not far from the nearby canal, while the road from Altdorf to Carroburt abutted the front of the Pole and Whip. There were barges tied up along the bank, the ones laden with grain or raw materials heading towards the Empire's capital, while those carrying finished goods were departing for outlying cities. Wagons filled the field across from the inn, with several stables full of horses of travelers adjoining it. The place looked packed, and two large men, one with a dark thick beard, the other with fuzzy cheeks and broad shoulders, lounged at the front carrying cudgels.
Neither bargemen nor wagoners were known for their good grace and manners, but the two bruisers obviously kept the peace. The weary traveler rode his horse closer, waiting until the light spilled out onto his face, and raising a hand.
"Ho, Stef and Gunter. Room for one more at the old inn?" the sojourner called.
At the sound of the man's voice, the younger of the pair whooped, then vaulted over the front railing of the inn, hitting the hard packed dirt and dashing towards the traveler, who swung off his horse with a laugh.
"Titus! You're home!" the young Gunter cried, and the two brothers embraced. Both were tall, though Titus had long since grown past gangly limbs and fuzzy cheeks. He sported a broad waxed mustache, and his hair was greased and styled, though somewhat mussed from travel.
"What are they feeding you here? The last I saw you, you were shorter than I was!" Titus laughed, putting a head to his forehead and measuring to his younger brother's nose.
Gunter blushed, and shrugged awkwardly. "Ma says I'm apt to be the tallest of the lot."
"I guess that makes you the shortest, eh, big brother?" Titus called to Stefan, who was leaning on the old hardwood railing and smiling.
"And don't you forget it, you overgrown lumox," Stefan called back. He made his way down to hug his brother, then called for a stable boy to take away the horse.
"Take good care of Reisender, Hans," Titus told the boy. "He's a war hero, you know."
"Did you fight monsters? Witches? What about elves? Did you kill a knife ear?" Hans asked eagerly.
"Time enough for that later, I'm sure my blowhard of a little brother would love to tell you all his supposed adventurers later," Stefan said. "Off with ye, lad. See the horse is rubbed down and fed."
Titus turned to the open door of the inn, only for a middle aged woman with her gray hair under a bright red cloth bustle out, holding up her spotless white apron. "Titus! My little boy is home!"
"Yes, mother, I suppose I'm the little one now that Gunter's grown up," Titus chuckled, bending down to hug his mother. She wasn't a short woman, a good 5'8" even after shrinking a little over the years, but her son was a good half a foot taller than she.
"Oh don't you sass me, Titus Rann. You'll always be my little boy," Mrs. Rann said, tweaking her son's mustache. "What's this awful thing that's growing on your face? You look like one of them city lordlings that comes this way in their fancy carriages."
"It's what's fashionable in Altdorf, mother!" Gunter said excitedly. He rubbed his lower lip, which had a faint outline of wispy hair. "I'm growing one myself."
Mrs. Rann snorted. "You're fourteen. The only thing you're growing is those boats you call feet." She shook her head and muttered to Titus. "We've had to buy two pairs of shoes for him in the past year, and he's outgrown even your old shirts and britches now. Costing me a fortune to feed and clothe him. I'm half tempted to sell him as a cart horse."
"Ah, you could just send him off to the army like you did me," Titus laughed.
Gunter nodded eagerly at the idea of the grand adventure of joining the Empire's finest, but Mrs. Rann looked worried for a moment, biting her lip as she regarded her youngest son. Then she shook her head. "Come on, your father's already in the kitchen, telling the cooks to make a grand feast, telling everyone his son's come home. Best not to keep him waiting."
Titus nodded and entered the Pole and Whip, and instantly he was transported back to five years before, when he'd been a fuzzy cheeked youth himself. There was a fire roaring at the back of the inn, with braisers scattered amongst the tables to ward off the chill air of late spring. Nearly a hundred men and a scattering of rough looking women packed the long wooden tables, laughing and drinking. A minstrel played the pipe and a girl stood on a stage at the side of the room, singing bawdy songs and flashing her legs as she danced. The air was filled with the scent of wood smoke and greasy food, and of course the unwashed bodies of the patrons.
Serving girls bustled about, though several stopped what they were doing when they spied Titus and ran over to him.
"Titus!" a sandy haired girl of about sixteen squealed, setting her tray down on a random table and jumping into his arms.
"Little Gretchen! You've grown!" Titus laughed, spinning the girl about as she giggled, before setting her down and embracing an even younger girl of ten. "And Julia! Not the baby anymore, are you?"
"I'm old enough to wait tables now," Julia huffed, patting the cudgel she had at her waist. While the Pole and Whip catered to their crowd with pretty serving girls, they didn't tolerate the usual bottom pinching and mistreatment. Mama Rann wouldn't tolerate such behavior, and her hulking sons and husband had no issue tossing unruly patrons out in the cold.
"I can see that! Where's father?" Titus asked, scanning the crowd.
"He's in the kitchen cooking of course. Said he had to have the very best for you," Gretchen said, shaking her head. "Why I don't know: you'll eat whatever's put before you and not know the difference."
"Ah, but there's nothing like a home cooked meal!" Titus laughed. He smiled and hugged several of the hired serving girls before his mother bustled in and shooed them all back to work.
"Come talk to me later, Titus," a rather pretty girl he recognized as Heidi Müller, a local girl who'd grown up quite a bit since he'd last seen her.
"Perhaps I will," Titus said, winking as Heidi got back to work. "My room or yours?"
Heidi blushed and giggled with her friends, but his mother slapped him on the arm.
"Titus Franz Rann! Don't you dare!" Mrs. Rann snapped, though she did peer after Heide, wiping her hands on apron as she often did when she was thinking. "Though Heidi is a good girl; her father's a hard worker, probably has a decent dowry for her. You could do worse than settling down with her I suppose."
"Why don't we go see father about dinner? I'm starving!" Titus said, passing the comment by. Heidi was quite pretty, but she did have several brothers, who while not as tall and broad as he, were plenty strong for years of hauling grain and flour up and down their family mill. A kiss or two would be welcome, but he had no intention of settling down in this tiny crossroads village.
"Ah, there he is!" Papa Rann cried as Titus stepped into the back kitchen. His father was an older man, now gone bald and with a great streaked beard. He had a large belly and a big laugh, and had spent most of his life within ten miles of the inn he'd been born in. He was well-to-do, and had been able to afford buying his middle son's commission in the army as an officer in the Swordsmen, as well as tuition for his daughter to the Gold Collage in the capital.
"Get over here," Papa Rann fussed, pointing to a stew he was laboring over. "I need you to stir this while I check on the bread! Such a slothful son I have, slacking off, not helping his poor old father!"
Titus grinned and went over to stir the stew, interrupted only by his father's tight hug.
"It's good to see you," Papa Rann said, his voice temporarily choked with emotion. Then he wiped away his tears, and bustled about, ordering his various cooks to prepare a great feast.
Half an hour later, the family retired to a private dining room, the sort they usually rented out to noble customers. The table was set with a roasted duck, smoked sausages, bowls of soup, baskets of fresh bread, potatoes of various sorts, jugs of the Rann's own beer, and several pies.
Titus spent his first few minutes hungrily devouring the excellent food, and listening to Gretchen and Gunter excitedly telling their older brother of what had been happening in his absence. There were the usual weddings, births, and deaths, and various local events that seemed far more provincial and less important now that Titus has been into the wider world.
His older brother Stefan introduced Titus to both a niece and nephew; the girl now about four, and the nephew still a babe in the arms of Stefan's wife Lina. Titus laughed and held his new relative, who promptly spit up on his uncle's travel stained tunic and was handed back to his mother.
Titus was just about ready to tell his own tails, when the door opened and a grizzled old man with a weather beaten face, drooping gray mustaches, and a pronounced limp entered the room. "There he is! Returned from fighting the Empire's foes! How's my nephew! A real veteran now, eh?"
"Uncle Titus!" Titus himself laughed, standing and hugging the man he'd been named for. He looked down at his uncle's uniform, which was the somewhat soiled uniform of Titus' own company, albeit thirty years older than Titus' own. "Good to have another Wolf in the house!"
Both men threw their heads back and howled, the same battle cry the Wolves of Ulric gave when they fought the foes of Men. They sat down together, and Papa Rann passed his brother a stein of beer.
"Thanks, Pollux. I told you, I told you this son of yours would come back safe and sound. Your poor father pulled out the last of his hair fretting over you, my boy," Titus the Elder laughed.
"That you did, and that I did," Papa Rann said, mournfully rubbing the bald spot on the crown of his head, and causing his family all to laugh.
"Tell us about your adventures!" Gunter begged. "Did you really fight Green Skins?"
"What about elves? Did you see any elves?" Gretchen asked eagerly. "Did you kill them?"
"Now, now, don't harass your brother," Mama Rann said sternly. She glanced through the open door and smiled. "Heidi! Why don't you sit a while and listen. I'm sure you'd like to hear what Titus would like to say."
Blushing, Heidi hastily emerged from where she'd been trying to eavesdrop and came in, though she did smile and wink at Titus. After a few beers in him, Titus was starting to forget how big and numerous her brothers were. She was quite pretty, and he'd had a long road.
"Well, as to elves, I must say we never fought them," Titus said, earning a few disappointed noises from his audience. "But…we did give a drubbing to a few greenskins. We were off in Averland, seeing to a small lordling who didn't want to pay his taxes, while a Waaargh came out of the Black Mountains…"
It was the small hours of the morning before the exhausted Titus retired to the small room his parents had for him. Without Heidi unfortunately, as Mama Rann was not going to let anyone sully one of her serving girls, even if it were her own son and she was obviously starting to plan to set them up together. She did allow a few kisses before she hustled Heidi off, and Titus lay down on the comfortable bed, at last taking off his clothes and passing out.
He was allowed to sleep in the next day, though once he was awake, Titus was put to work, the same as he'd always been. It was simple enough work, cleaning out the fireplaces and stocking them for the next night. But it was the sort of mindless tedium he'd joined the State Troops to escape. True, the food was far better and the threat of death much less significant, but it was rather boring.
So it was that Titus excused himself to go pay his namesake a visit, which his father readily granted, giving him a basket of sausages and bread and a small keg of beer to deliver as a meal. He headed to the outskirts of the village of Kreuzungsstadt, to a small cottage near the woods. He found his uncle sitting on his porch with his cat in his lap, staring off into the woods.
"Ho, Uncle. I bring gifts," Titus called.
His uncle looked up, smiling and nodding to a carved wooden chair near his. "Sit, my boy. Can't stand the civvies already, can you? That Muller girl looked as though she wanted more than a kiss of you. You're still young and pretty, unlike me. That's what thirty years in the Regiments does to a man."
"Well, I didn't want to get as ugly as you, so I got out in only five," Titus laughed, passing his uncle the jug.
"Wise man," his uncle said, taking a swig of beer. He held the jug for a moment, staring into its brown depths. "I miss it, sometimes. If not for my leg…I should have died in the regiments. This is no place for a man."
"Your letter of recommendation let me get my commission," Titus said quietly. "I'm glad you didn't die, uncle. I saw too many good men do that."
His uncle grunted again and passed back the drink. They sat for a time, quietly telling stories that only other soldiers would understand. Titus the Elder had started as private and risen to the level of Sergeant, while his nephew had been a Lieutenant. They both gripped and laughed about how the other half of the military lived, trading barbs and stories of idiot superiors and clever underlings for several hours.
"Think you'll stay?" his uncle asked Titus as the sun began to set. "Here in our little back of beyond?"
"No," Titus said, shaking his head. "I'm no rich man yet, and I think I'm done following the orders of other men and fighting in the mud of battlefields. But I haven't seen the world yet. I might like to see an elf, or even a dwarf or two. There's whole kingdoms and lands out there, adventures to be had. I'll spend a week or two here, but I'm afraid I'll disappoint my mother when I don't marry Heidi and settle down to brew beer or Sigmar save me, grow crops. And I'm not working for Stefan when he inherits the inn."
"Don't like your brother?" his uncle asked, raising an eyebrow.
Titus shifted uncomfortably. "I love him, you know that, but, well, he's always thought he was right about everything, and that as his younger brother I should do as he says. The damndest part of it is that he's often right. Stefan will be a good innkeep. But I would chafe at working for him, and he'd lose his patience with me."
"Same reason I hunt poachers in the baron's woods instead of working for your father," his uncle laughed. "Your father is a good man, and a good brother. But I don't wish to work for him."
"Yes. I wouldn't mind a toss in the hay with Heidi, but, well, she's a good girl and I'd hate to ruin her life here," Titus admitted. "She'd likely say she wants an adventure, but a man doesn't want a wife and child with him when he goes to Calay or Albion."
"You do want to see the world," his uncle said, sounding amused. He nodded though. "You're one and twenty only; a long life ahead of you. I might have something for you, though."
"Oh?" Titus asked, perking up.
"Not here. Come on. In the woods," his uncle said, and stood, groaning softly as he reached for his staff and bow. "These old bones do ache…get the lantern, and a spade. What we do is best done at night."
The shadows in the woods were already long when the two Titus' entered the woods, bearing lanterns and spades, along with their swords. The woods were safe enough, even at night, but there were the occasional bandits, and perhaps a bear, even in the heart of Reikland.
They made their way along an old game trail, the elder Titus muttering to himself as he watched for signs. After a while, they turned off the path into a thicket, and then to an old oak stump. There, Titus began to dig as his uncle kept watch. After ten minutes of digging, he found a small chest, which he lifted out of the hole with a grunt.
"What's this?" Titus asked, curious. The chest was carved with strange runes, something clearly not of human make, as it was made of neatly made stone. There was no seam or keyhole that he could find, nor were their hinges.
"I didn't spend all my time with the Wolves of Reikland," his uncle said quietly, kneeling and passing a hand over the chest. "I too went to see the world. I met exotic beauties in far off lands, and fought greenskins down in the dark. That's where I got the wound in my leg. I never told anyone else, but…ah. Here."
After pressing several runes in sequence, there was a pop, and the stone lid of the box separated. Titus the Elder lifted off the lid with a grunt, revealing a gleaming blade inside.
Letting out a low whistle, Titus the Younger reached down to touch the hilt, which was made of a strange, twisting wood that seemed alive to the touch. The blade itself gleamed in the lantern light, its metal rippling like water, with runes set into the steel. "Now this is a treasure…where did you get this?"
"From an old dwarf who had a grudge to settle and greenskin steel in his gut," his uncle said, shaking his head. "The longbeard said it was meant for Man, and if I slew the goblins, it was mine by right. Well, I did for those monsters, but the dwarf died of his wounds. I kept the blade, but something like this isn't what the second son of an innkeep has. So I hid it."
"We weren't always innkeeps you know, father says that," Titus said, looking up. "He claims we were once high nobility: Counts, even."
"We're a cadet branch of a dead noble line. That's why we own the land on which our inn stands, but there's nothing else left of it," his uncle said with a snort. He nodded to the sword. "Take it. She's yours. Go have the Adventure you want, lad, but do it with good steel in your hand. Earn a name for yourself, and find riches and glory. And never come back to this flyspeck village again."
Slowly, Titus reached down, taking out the sword. It seemed to come alive in his hands, and he gasped, feeling a rush of power going through him. Then it faded, and he looked at his uncle, questioning.
"I think the blade is magic, and it bonds you," Titus the Elder said quietly. "If you want to know more, go speak to your sister Zelda. She's the witch."
"She's a wizard, and licensed," Titus corrected absently. He swung the blade a few times, feeling its weight. Despite being a massive two handed great sword, the balance was perfect, and it felt light in his hands. He turned to his uncle, feeling rather incredulous. "Why did you hide this? This is a national treasure, uncle. You could have sold this for half a province."
"Didn't want half a province. And it didn't seem right," his uncle grumped. He held up a hand, and Titus hauled the older man to his feet. "Well, come on. It's late, and I'm old."
After bidding his uncle goodnight, Titus made his way back to the inn, letting himself in the back way and stealing a bowl of soup to take to his room, where he sat on his bed, admiring the sword. He didn't understand the runes, but the weapon was clearly of Dwarf make, and ancient. He had heard legends of such weapons, but never thought to see or have one himself.
There was a quiet knock at the door, and Titus hastily slid the sword under his bed. "Yes?"
It cracked open, and Heidi's face peered in. "Titus? Can I…can I come in?"
"Of course," Titus said, blushing and scooting over on the bed. He grinned as Heidi hastily shut the door behind herself, and sat down on the bed beside him. There was some breathless laughter and kissing, and then some more exploratory contact.
"Are you leaving again?" Heidi gasped, shivering as Titus touched her body a little more. "Tell me you'll take me with you. I don't want to live here; I want to live in a city, and wear grand dresses and ride horses."
"I'm leaving," Titus admitted, "But I'm not settling down, Heidi. I'm off to see the world. You can't come with me. You're just a girl: the life I want is a hard one, with adventure. To see the world, and find fame and glory. Not settle down to be a merchant or tavernkeep like my father."
Heidi giggled. "That sounds perfect! I want to see the world myself! I liked your stories, though you did focus too much on the battles. What other places did you see? There's surely more to the world than this."
"Yes, but you don't know how to fight. There's grim battles and more in store for me: no place for a girl," Titus said.
He grunted as something sharp jabbed him in the ribs, then cried out as he was cracked over the temple. He flopped back, stunned, seeing an irate Heidi, her hair a mess, her dress rumpled as she stood over him. "Just a girl? I'm older than you were when you left to join the army, Titus Rann! I've got four older brothers, and I know how to handle them! Just because you know how to use a sword and are a great big lunk doesn't mean that you-"
Heidi gasped and tried to cry out as Titus suddenly stood, flipping her onto the floor and pinning her face down to the ground. She tried to struggle, but though she was no frail lady, she was also no match for a man that outweighed her by over 100lbs and had nearly a foot on her.
"You're just a silly girl, Müller. I'm fine for a bit of fun, but I'm not dragging you to your death or worse out there. You think I'm dangerous, or frightening? I'm nothing. I've seen cultists, beastmen, greenskins, and all manner of horrors. You're not ready for life beyond Kreuzungsstadt," Titus spat.
"Off of me! I was up for a bit of fun, maybe more than I should have, but now I want nothing to do with you!" Heidi hissed.
Titus let her up, handing Heidi back her cudgel. She put her apron back on, glared at him, and stormed out of the room. His mother came by not long after to lecture him and try to pry, but Titus told her that they'd just had a tiff.
"I told her I wasn't staying here. I'll be leaving again in the morning, mother," Titus said.
"But you've barely arrived! It's been five years! I wanted to see more of you," his mother said, wiping her hands in her apron nervously.
"You wanted me to settle down with Heidi and give you half a dozen grandchildren," Titus chuckled. "Never fear, I'm just going to see Zelda. It's only a day's journey. I'll come back again before I leave for wider parts; I promise."
"Well…you could take a letter to Zelda, from me?" his mother asked.
When Titus assured his mother he would, she sighed and relented, digging and getting further promises that Titus would return, and wouldn't he give Heidi a second chance? She was such a nice girl, after all.
"I'm sure she is. I'll talk with her when I come back," Titus promised, thinking that while he might enjoy a tumble, he certainly wouldn't enjoy being trapped in a small town with a wife. Or even Altdorf: he wanted to see the world, not live a day's ride from where he'd been born.
Downstairs, Heidi finished cleaning, then stalked out into the night, grumbling about idiot lummoxes. She paused on the road to her family home, considering what she'd seen. Where had Titus gotten that grand sword? He hadn't been carrying it when he came home, and she hadn't heard the stable boys gossiping about such a weapon, which they surely would have if it had been with his horse.
"I will see the world," she muttered to herself. She made a few experimental flourishes and jabs with her cudgel, and grinned. "I can take care of myself."
Then she sighed and trudged back to the mill, where her parents and brothers and their wives were probably already sleeping. Titus Rann might be cute, but if he wouldn't take her away from this dreadfully dull existence, she'd find her own path.
The next day Titus arose early, bidding his family farewell. His father tried not to cry, but the old man was clearly upset his son was leaving again.
"I'll be back sooner than five years this time," Titus said with a laugh, then mounted Reisender and turned back east towards Altdorf. There were already wagons and travelers on the wide road, and more and more joined the growing throng along the way. It was just after midday when he arrived at the Capital of Reikland and the Empire, Seat of Karl Franz and the beating heart of Humanity: Altdorf.
Titus nodded respectfully to the guards, and his veterans papers earned him a nod of respect back from their lieutenant and passage into the city. Unlike the sleepy hamlet he'd left, Altdorf was bustling with people from every corner of the Empire and beyond. He spied dwarfs striding along, looking grim and serious, and even tall cloaked strangers he suspected might be elfs, though he wasn't rude enough to say it.
He made his way through the city, to the smoky forges and labyrinthine layout of the Gold Order. Titus felt uneasy; he had stayed away from this part of the city during his passage through to Kreuzungsstadt despite his sister's presence here. Though he had fought beside wizards, he had done so at a distance. He knew they were not wild witches or sorcerers, but felt uneasy around magic all the same. Still, he needed to know what it was he carried, and he gingerly touched the carefully canvas wrapped package behind his saddle.
Taking a deep breath, he rode up to one of the guards by the college gates, trying not to make a face at the noxious fumes and vapors.
"What business have you here?" one of the guards said gruffly as Titus dismounted.
"I am Titus Rann, I have a letter here from my sister, Zelda Rann, a mage at your college. I have letters from my family to deliver, and wish to see her," Titus said.
The guard accepted the letter, glancing at it long enough that Titus determined the man could actually read as his eyes scanned the page. He nodded, rolling it back up and handing it to Titus. "Magus Zelda doesn't live at the college, friend. She's got apartments in the city. I'll have an officer give you her address. Come inside; have a drink, and give your horse something to eat."
Titus nodded gratefully, and after a few minutes, a lieutenant gave him his sister's address, which she had notably failed to give the family, simply saying she "was at the college."
Happily leaving the noxious fumes behind, he followed the directions to a rather upscale inn across the river from the college, away from its most repellent fumes. The innkeep knew his sister, and led him up to the rooms she had. The entire establishment was far richer than his father's inn, with gold candle sticks, luxurious carpets, and gilded paneling on the walls. He felt a bit scruffy despite his freshly shaved face, but knocked on the door of his sister's rooms.
"Yes, who is it?" a man's voice said, and a moment later, a short man with spectacles and a neatly trimmed blonde goatee opened the door.
""Ah, I'm looking for my sister, Zelda, are these not her rooms?" Titus said.
The man smiled, taking Titus' hand and pumping it. "Why, you must be her brother, Titus! I'm her boyfriend, Maximus! She's just getting out of bed. Come in, come in!"
Titus blinked, and slowly stepped inside, not certain how to feel at the thought of this shrimpy scholar sleeping with his sister. Zelda had always been a strange one.