The Fey Conquest, # 16— "Blooding the Recruits, Part One"

[Short stories. Images generated by hotpot.ai]

Swain’s war-band, as it has already been related, was now large enough to be called an army, the Fey Folk Auxiliaries swelling in number, with two out of every five military-aged males now trained to fight in battles. The remainder trained with their makeshift weapons, most awaiting martial equipment. Three out of every five were too green to serve, and even the ones who were deemed ready had not been blooded. The remainder of the males were unfit for battle or useful as artisans, joining the women and other miscellaneous males in dull but necessary labor.

It was Swain’s desire to test the mettle of the Fey auxiliaries, and over the course of a week, he saw his opportunity. The Village of the Cat Esper, the name alone seizing their curiosity, was discovered by their informants to be held in thrall by The Cult of the Cait Sith, their espers appearing as seductive women merged with felines. The various incarnations of the Cat Esper could do little against the cabal, the males of the village had mostly been seduced into ‘demonic slavery’ (as Numyst called it), and their children were tormented among a helpless citizenry, feeding the beauty of the Cait Siths and the women who joined hands with them.

Indeed, it was a parasitic relationship in danger of killing the host, and those in the village who were not members of the cabal were kept as chattel, being milked of their blood and their will to live. There was always just enough pleasure in the village to keep them as food for their demonic cult.

“Zakarum seethes with fury, Lord Swain,” said Numyst.

“Undoubtedly,” said Swain. The Rune Lord was an ardent believer in Zakarum, but he only devoted about half his brain to His consideration. The other half obsessed with his military campaign and the activities of his rival Rune Lords: Morris the Pig, Dunbar the Fletcher, and Weez the Badger. The Three Tyrants.

Although Swain was considered the Fourth, by many ignorant Fey people.

“My hands yearn to slay them,” said his war-priest.

“We have yet to test the auxiliaries,” said Swain, “But since you mentioned it, I want you to join Wyatt and the other Fey officers in meeting their settlement head on. I, the two Garyfs, Lomar, Wilf, and Torek will lead the cavalry and take them in the flank.”

“I understand. Leave it to me.”

The conquerors slew a few dark espers wandering the Cat Village proper, followed by more than two scores of thralls of the Cait Siths. Their victims were so oppressed that they did not comprehend they were being liberated until an entire day had passed. Their spirits were so broken that they were afraid to believe that their relief was real. But after some coaxing by Krest, Numyst, Wyatt, and a number of other Fey recruits, they learned the location of the Cabal’s settlement.

The Feys who were deemed fully prepared were anxious for fear, excitement, or just the fact that they were kept waiting to join in battle. They brandished their spears at unseen enemies as they marched, without the protection of the mighty warriors from Ivalice. Only about a third carried shields, all of them carried spears, and another third carried bows. Of those that carried bows, only half were proficient in calmly swapping between the two weapons. Half of the auxiliaries wore leather armor, and only half of that was of considerable durability.

However, they were joined by Fey auxiliaries that had taken runes from harvested magicite, and were just as proficient in it as the warriors from Ivalice. This brigade was approximately one tenth of the size of Swain’s own battalion that was left to him after he led his men into desertion.

Wyatt, under Numyst’s supervision, led the auxiliaries to a defensible location, which their intelligence suggested was near the Cait Sith settlement.

“We can’t just march blindly,” said Wyatt, “what do we do from here?”

“We must draw them out,” said Numyst.

“How will we do that?”

“Good grief. Where’s Krest?”

Wyatt summoned the one of a total of five company wizards. Swain trusted and relied on Krest more than the others, and Numyst knew him well.

“A goad?” Said the wizard, “yes, I know one of those. A spell of provocation.”

“What are the risks?”

“Well, for one thing, they’ll be very angry.”

“And?”

“…and it will provoke everything in a radius of about 250 yards. Including birds.”

“Are they close?” Said Wyatt.

“I’ll find out for you. Let me send my familiar.”

Krest summoned his Grey Raven, Kokkles, by burning ether as he held out his hand and muttering something. Within one minute, Kokkles swooped from a copse nearby, landing on Krest’s robed arm.

He uttered some kind of incantation, and the raven took flight again.

“Kokkles hasn’t earned his barley corn, lately,” said Krest.

Krest’s eyes glazed over, at this point seeing through his familiar’s eyes. It was a tedious half an hour before the raven came back.

Krest’s ordinary vision was restored.

“They’re nearly 200 yards away.”

“So it will work?” Said Wyatt.

“I don’t necessarily hope so,” said Krest.

Wyatt ordered his troops to dig in and make use of the terrain.

“Don’t give an inch of ground. Lord Swain will ensure that we’ll win, but we must prove our mettle. Show the conqueror that the people of Iceglass have a right to hold our heads high!”

With that, the auxiliaries made ready for the confrontation.