11Author's Note: I would like to thank Blue Byte and Ubisoft for creating such a beautiful world. It's not every game that has me scurrying for the word processor, but this one grabbed me right from the start. The characters and situations in this story belong to them; thank you for letting me play in the sandbox. No pun intended.
It is recommended, but not required, that you have some prior familiarity with my other Settlers stories. It is strongly recommended that you read the oneshot "Of Folly and Flight" by Rockerduck before this story, as some events later in the storyline will make little sense if you don't know what happens in that story.
Rated T for battle violence. I probably could get away with K+, but better safe then sorry.
- Chapter One -
"And since you know you cannot see yourself,
so well as by reflection, I, your glass,
will modestly discover to yourself,
that of yourself which you yet know not of."
William Shakespeare
Finally she could get off this boat.
It wasn't as if she minded going on missions for the Darion Empire. Lady Kestral of Gallos was always ready for action. It was just that standing on a deck for two weeks got a bit boring after the novelty of ocean travel wore off.
The northern shoreline of Sahir al-Awan was close now. Red cliffs against a blue sky, a few scrubby trees. A gap in the cliffs nearby appeared as a door into the trackless sand that was the deserts of Janub. A more inhospitable and unattractive environment was hard to imagine.
Kestral squinted up at the cliffs. A structure of some sort stood aloof atop the western cliff; but it was hardly civilisation. The building, whatever it had once been, was falling into ruins. Piles of stone lay tumbled around the once proud walls. A testimony to what Janub had become. A once glorious civilisation now in hopeless disrepair.
Movement. A dark shadow flickered amongst the stones. Kestral raised her hand to her eyes and stared out. Yes. A figure on horseback, enveloped in a black cloak. Lord Hakim Abd-Al Sar of the Knights of Darion. It was his request for reinforcements that she was answering now. No, scratch that. Not request, demand. Summons. The lone representative of Janub amongst the Knights was getting mighty imperious. But a request for aid could not be ignored, and none of the other knights - or Her Majesty, come to think of it - seemed to mind.
The mounted figure disappeared from view. Kestral turned to the captain of the vessel. An obsequious little man with graying hair and a wiry frame, Captain Horne had ferried Kestral about the oceans of Altdarios before.
"Captain, would you be so kind as to let us off at that beach there?" she said with a jerk of her head towards the door to the desert.
The small man bowed. "Aye, Lady Kestral."
The object of this sentence groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you to quit the 'Lady' stuff?"
Horne grinned. "Probably a few more, ma'am."
"And don't bow, either."
Horne laughed, turned and began to issue orders to the crew in an impressive bellow. The tattered but disciplined men set to their tasks with an enthusiasm and efficiency that Kestral admired professionally as she leaned against the rail. If only all of Darion's troops were this good.
A gangly man in leather armor emerged from the hatchway below and approached Kestral. "Shall we prepare to disembark, Lady Kestral?"
Kestral nodded formally. "Yes, Lieutenant Refec." She paused, weighing up the requirements in her head. Logistics had never been her strong point. "We'll need a least a week's worth of food, all the gold, and each man should bring all his possessions. We could be in the area a while." She ended the sentence with a note of finality, dismissing him. Her archer captain saluted and began to stride away, but she recalled him as another thought occurred. "And I'll need Dutch," she added, referring to her mount who had been imprisoned below decks for the past fortnight awaiting their arrival.
Refec saluted again and jogged below decks. Shouting, banging and movement could soon be heard. Kestral smiled, turning back to the clifftops. Official military command was still new enough that the novelty had not yet worn off. Her bandit troops had not been nearly so unquestioningly obedient.
Lord Hakim had appeared again, riding across the desert toward the beach. She waved casually, and the distant figure raised one hand in silent acknowledgement of her salute.
Ten minutes later, Kestral was seated in the sternsheets of a crammed rowboat. Nine of her archers manned the oars. Another boat about ten feet away, rowing at the same pace, contained ten men. The three battlions she had brought to reinforce Lord Hakim, under Lieutenant Refec. Alongside her vessel swam an extremely disgruntled Dutch. The little black mare snorted as Kestral tugged gently on her leadrope.
Shw laughed. "Get over yourself, you nutty horse. You'll soon be on shore."
As if those were magic words, Dutch plunged forward. The rope ripped painfully from Kestral's hands as the horse swam ahead of the boat. She quickly gained a foothold on the sand and galloped forward. Great. Now she'd make a break for it and Kestral would be horseless.
Lord Hakim, waiting on shore, wheeled his mount into the path of the runaway pony and reached for the loose rope. He caught it in his gloved hand and sat up, using the weight of his horse to halt Dutch. The little mare hauled uselessly for a few moments, then settled, resigned; gazing placidly off into the distance.
Kestral leapt from the rowboat as they came near the shore and sloshed through the shallow water onto the beach. Lord Hakim, seated on his black stallion, nodded to her slightly.
Kestral grinned. "Thanks - I don't know what I would've done if -"
He cut her off with a raised hand. "I assume there are more troops coming from the ship? Or in a few days?"
"Why, I'm doing fine, Lord Hakim, thanks for asking. The journey was lovely, and you needn't show such concern for my welfare."
"Lady Kestral."
"Everyone else is great, since you ask," Kestral continued, voice soaked in sarcasm. "Marcus has almost stopped limping, which he is absolutely ecstatic about - he'll be glad you're so concerned. And -"
"Lady Kestral."
"Fine." She sighed theatrically, but her exasperation with his seeming inhumanity was real. Did the man ever make small talk? "This is it."
"This is it?" Lord Hakim sounded faintly incredulous, and his expression matched his tone.
"This is it. Three battlions, plus Lieutenant Refec and me."
"Could you not bring more?"
Kestral tapped her foot impatiently. "In case you'd forgotten, there's a war in Raudrlin as well. We don't exactly have troops to spare. It was all the Queen could manage to redirect this one vessel."
Hakim's features settled into an expression of resignation. "So be it, then. We shall have to make do." He handed down Dutch's leadrope. Kestral accepted it and vaulted lightly onto her back without bothering with a saddle.
"What's so important, then?" she asked. "Why the imperious summons? And the alleged desperate and urgent need for support?"
Hakim nudged his mount into a smooth trot. Kestral gave Dutch a swift kick and bounced along easily beside him.
"Well ..." said Hakim slowly, and so quietly she had to strain her ears. "The Sahir region of Janub is ruled by the Desert Raiders, a group of bandits who -" His face twisted into a bitter smile. "Are not exactly ideal leaders."
"I'll bet." Kestral had come a long way from being insulted whenever bandits were belittled in her company. Yes, she had been one for years, but she was not so much a fool as to imagine them an effective standalone army - let alone a proper government.
"Sahir al-Awan is officially ruled by a prince, but he is not yet of age. The regent of Sahir al-Awan wishes to cement his royal charge's claim to the throne in these parts, and to do that he will need the support of the Desert Raiders. It is in the Darion Empire's interests to make sure this prince makes it to the throne - he is likely to be a reasonably stable ally."
Kestral scoffed. "You imagine that a kid would be a stable ally?" She huffed as Hakim raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, whatever. So we have to woo these raiders on his behalf, right?"
Hakim hesitated. "Not exactly."
"Then - woah ..."
She jerked on Dutch's leadrope suddenly, causing the little mare to kick out. Kestral ignored her as she stared out at the sight before her.
The desert stretched out as far as the eye could see. Rolling hills of red sand were interrupted occasionally by an outcropping of rock or a cliff top, standing proud in the sunlight. Far to the southwest, a blur of green and blue at the base of one of the cliffs proclaimed the presence of an oasis. Between them and that little spot of paradise was a huge, deep depression in the sand. Worn grey stone walls jutted half out of the depression floor; interspersed between the ancient structures were a few tents. Dark shapes, like ants, were scuttling around the bases of the walls. Above it all, the white sun gleamed in a blinding blue sky. She amended her earlier thoughts. Inhospitable, perhaps. Unattractive? No way.
She turned to Hakim and grinned. "Nice country you've got here."
He laughed heartily, startling her. But it wasn't an unpleasant surprise at all.
She realised she was staring at him.
"So ..." she said awkwardly. "What are we supposed to be doing, then?"
Hakim turned his eyes back to the desert. "There's a legend in this land -"
She groaned. "Once upon a time ..."
He cleared his throat meaningfully. "A legend about a set of ancient royal regalia, lost to time in the sands of the desert."
"You almost make it sound poetic."
"You may be sceptical, Lady Kestral, but to the people of this land, it is true enough. And their desperation in this troubled time has inspired them to start digging."
"To where? Narlind?"
Hakim ignored her sarcasm, nudging his horse back into a trot down the sandy slope. Kestral glanced behind her before following. Good; Refec and the troops had unloaded the caravel and were starting to follow.
"Three local tribes - the Twanzur, the Jum'am, and the Tijah - have started digging in the prophesied locations. The regent of Sahir wishes me - I apologise, us - to liaise with the tribes and claim the regalia on behalf of his prince."
Kestral ignored his slip. It was his homeland, so he would think of it as his mission alone. Forgivable, if annoying. "What's in it for us?"
Hakim turned in his saddle to face her full on, exasperation showing in his face. "A powerful ally, Lady Kestral. With the Desert Raiders at his back, the Prince of Sahir could sweep across Janub and take the whole. This continent could be united for the first time since before the days of Dario. And having the ruler of the Janubian Empire feel indebted towards the Queen of Westerlin could count for much."
Kestral could see the enthusiasm in his face - the way his eyes lit up as he described this dreamed-of future situation, the way he gestured to the air with one hand as he trotted along. He wanted this badly, she could tell, and something like envy stole up into her breast. She had no real homeland to fight for; she'd migrated between Narlind and Gallos so much as a child she had no real loyalty to any one place. She'd never had a land she loved and whose ideals she could believe in and uphold. Suddenly, she was unreasonably jealous of Hakim's zeal.
"So, we get the regalia from the tribes. Then what?" she asked, attempting to control her emotions.
"We deliver them to the regent in the city of Jumajir."
"Easy as pie. Where do we start?"
"I believe the best approach would be to visit the Twanzur excavation," he replied, gesturing towards the ruins below. "Then travel southeast and camp at the Sabralat Coast tonight."
Kestral exhaled deeply. "Easy as pie. Let's get going!" She urged Dutch into a smooth canter and charged off towards the distant tents, leaving Hakim to order the soldiers. Dutch was spoiling for a gallop, and she was scarcely less eager to have the run of the desert sands.