The Hall of Wisdom

Part Four

Well to the North of our beloved Tor, all the way to the shores of the Caddoch Straights, lays the coastal territory of Teramer. This mountainous land holds a unique mark of distinction; it is the Northernmost region on the continent of Vitaveus. In terms of accessibility, Teramer is one of the more secluded regions on the face of Vitaveus, bordered as it is by the Galehorn Mountains to the West and South, and the straights themselves on the North and East. The only feasible way in to Teramer (besides boat) is along the Galehorn Road, which meanders through the pass found in the Southern range of the Galehorns.

It is here, on this once prosperous highway, does our story of the day take place. Once a truly remarkable feat of engineering, the Galehorn Road has been left to ruin since the falling of the Everdark. The narrow most parts of the mountainsides it winds through have been turned into makeshift outposts and war camps, erected by the hands of displaced Templar and Legionnaires stationed in the territory before the eternal night had fallen. For months have the brave warriors fended off the horrors of the Everdark in defense of the numerous villages and the capital of Teramer, Teram.

We now examine the forefront of these defenses, a rather haughty forward base of operations haphazardly kept together by a mere handful of the Republic’s finest…

The man, clad in his dirty and unpolished armor, walked with the demeanor and cadence of a king, his platinum breastplate once glowing with the fury of a thousand suns. As with many things since the falling of the Everdark, however, his armaments had fallen to ruin. Despite his dirtied appearance, he conducted himself with the pride of any Seraph of the Decusian Church, and for that, he had earned the respect and admiration of the men who followed him.

Lord Francis Sanguine had been a relatively new officer within the Church Templar when he had been commissioned to the territory of Teramer mere months before the Everdark’s falling. It was common practice for young officers fresh out of the Academy to be stationed to relatively safe portions of the Republic before making the exodus to the borderlands, and eventually the blacklands. An adequate understanding of command was needed for any officer in the Republic military before they could brave the horrors of the blacklands, and to toss them to the wolves immediately after their graduation from Academy would undoubtedly lead to the deaths of many.

Sanquine hadn’t minded his role as battalion commander in Teramer, however. The land was an industrial hub, consisting mostly of mining camps and Foundry labor shops, tasked with the important role of harvesting the minerals of the Galehorn mountains for use across the Republic. The capital of Teramer, Teram, was of particular interest to Sanguine as well, for it was a particularly bustling city of trade. No city on Vitaveus had shipped more goods between the territories of Haudvita than Teram, and thus, it had benefitted from a rather rich economy and quality of life.

The young Seraph had less than three months of service in Teram before the falling of the Everdark, which had proved to be a near catastrophic problem when the hordes of darkness descended upon the territory. In the first few weeks of the attacks, the local Legion commander along with his entire advisory cabinet had been slaughtered by a swarm of locusts that had flooded the streets of Teram. This event had lead to Sanquine shouldering the responsibility of commanding not only the scant Templar forces that had been stationed to the territory’s defense, but of the numerous Legionnaires also trapped within the Teramer on a training exercise within the Galehorns. It was a responsibility Sanquine had taken without protest, however, and by his hand, the territory had managed to survive the initial waves of Everdark horrors that swept across the city.

As with all the territories that had withstood the initial attacks by the hand of the dark creatures, the land of Teramer had been a relatively safe place. Although food had been scarce, both the citizens and the soldier whom protected them had been in high spirits as of late. Oblivious to what was happening in the lands outside their own safe haven, the peoples of Teramer had believed, as many other survivors of the Everdark attack, that they had been all that was left of the once mighty Republic. Although many scouting expeditions had been mounted by brave Legionnaires and Templars to confirm the fate of neighboring territories, not a single soul had returned from the shadows of the Everdark.

On this very day, curious reader, we watch as the Seraph pays a visit to the border of Teramer, a forward base of operations erected in the mouth of the Galehorns, a haphazard defensive wall of wood and rock that spans across the Galehorn Road, serving as a gateway into the unmolested land.

“I ordered those cannons serviced two hours ago, soldier. What is the holdup?”

The young Legionnaire looked to the Seraph with frightened eyes, obviously startled by the commander’s presence. He offered a crisp salute before replying.

“My apologies, sir! The quartermaster was unable to provide me with the solvent to clean the barrel. He estimates the Gearsmiths in Teram will have more readied by ‘morrow.”

The Serpah nodded, placing a hand on the Legionnaires shoulder. While probably no more than a year or two older than the young soldier, the Seraph’s eyes carried with them the wisdom and compassion of many years.

“Very good, my brother. Worry not about your duties for this eve, then. Take a leave from the frontlines for a fortnight; when you return, I wager the quartermaster will have your supplies readied.”

The young Legionnaire smiled with graciousness, offered a quick salute, and hurriedly sprinted off to the east, peeling off his armor. The Seraph smiled to himself as his operations officer, an elder experience Legionnaire referred to many as simply “the X-O”, approached Sanguine’s side.

“Doesn’t take much for these boys to get excited, does it?”

The Seraph grinned, offering his hand to the elder.

“A night or two away from the frontlines does good for the spirit, Xavier, Decus willing.”

Together, the two had made their way westward, passing numerous tents and makeshift shelters, all illuminated by small campfires or lanterns. As they made their way through the camp, numerous soldiers, both Church and Legion, had dropped what they were doing to offer their respect via a salute.

“These men respect you, Francis. They’d die for you in a heartbeat. I must say, for a Churchie, you’ve done well here.”

The Seraph laughed as they continued towards the palisades that marked the border between civilization and chaos. Upon the ramparts of the shoddy walls, braziers had illuminated the faces of the weary soldiers whom stood guard, watching the shadows of the western front with wary eyes.

“Let us hope the days of bloodshed are over, Xavier. We’ve been fortunate for quite some time. I don’t know if we have the manpower to resist another siege by the daemons lurking in the shadows.”

As the two reached the massive wooden gates of the palisade wall, a sense of foreboding washed over the two of them. Gathered around the gate, dozens of Republic soldiers stood, peering into the darkness, their eyes transfixed upon something unseen. The two had exchanged a quick look between each other, then quickened their pace to the gathering.

“What is it, men? Another stray skitterer?”

The gathering of soldiers turned, looking upon the Seraph and the XO. They offered hasty salutes, and then parted as a Legion sergeant made his way through the crowd to meet the commanders.

“Sir, the sentries reported movement on the Galehorn, just on the edge of the shadows. They’re not sure what it is.”

Nodding, the Seraph and XO made their way to the front of the gathering, peering into the darkness. Some hundred yards out, a great pyre burned, offering illumination to the longbowmen stationed upon the palisade walls. For a long moment, the two stared into the darkness, unable to discern anything tangible.

“Ain’t nothing out there, Franics. The boys just got spooked. It’s been months since thems’ beasts made their way up the Galehorn.”

The Serpah shook his head, pointing to the west.

“There, to the south of the pyre, near the mountain face. Two of them.”

Squinting, the XO followed the Seraph’s directions. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered, an expression of surprise plastered his face.

“Damned be it, Francis. Decus blessed you with some good fuckin’ eyes. Those ain’t no skitterers, that’s for sure. Too big.”

The Serpah nodded.

“Aye, and too small for the winged ones. They look like men almost.”

Turning to the sergeant behind him, the Seraph’s tone had been stern and serious.

“Soldier, how long have they been out there?”

The sergeant shook his head.

“Hard to say, sir. One of the archers spotted them almost an hour ago. Can’t say how long they were there before hand. Haven’t moved an inch, that’s for sure.”

The Seraph nodded, then looked to Xavier. The XO offered him a simple shrug, then directed his gaze back to the west.

Taking one last look, the Seraph folded his hands before him, then turned back to the gathering of soldiers behind him.

“I need five volunteers.”

Without delay, the dozen men gathered around the gate stepped forward, assembling themselves at a tension. The scene elicited a grin from Xavier.

“Like I said, Francis. Ready to die, Decus willing.”

Seraph Francis Sanguine hadn’t found his XO’s comments humorous, however. Something was out there, on the edge of the Everdark’s eternal shadows, and from his experience, it probably wasn’t friendly.