Chapter 11: The Winter Hawk

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"Much travail will be heaped upon them,

Much suffering and torment will they know.

But it all shall be for their good,

For it will shape them into Men of Valor and Courage,

Leaders and Warriors, Poets and Bards,

And Wielders of Weapons of Power."

- from Cephanon's Ruminations, ch.4


"Fools and peasants who scream in the wind!" Tas Grimnor, the Winter Hawk, darkly muttered as he watched Tas Vegadorn's brightly uniformed rebel Regulars herd prisoners from the ambush into a cordoned off area a handful of paces from the Giant's Way's southern edge. 

Behind him a small roadside village aggressively burned despite the downpour that now soaked this place, the bright orange flames casting long, leaping shadows across the broken ground as it ripped the thick fog into paper-thin wisps that ran raggedly in front of a wind that rose to feed the hungry fire. Three lengths further west one of the regular King's Toll towers was also burning vigorously, a co-victim of the vicious assault on the eastbound caravan.

A low rumbling sound from the village momentarily captured his attention. Frowning, Grimnor looked over his shoulder in time to watch yet another building collapse in a shower of sparks, its wooden skeleton eaten away by fire to the point that, robbed of their support, its stone walls fell inwards. He thoughtfully stared at the ruin for a moment before silently dismissing the destruction and turning his attention back to the huddled prisoners in front of him. 

The Winter Hawk had different business here beyond simply watching the fruits of his comrades' labors. A much more useful purpose, if everything went according to plan.

In the flickering light of the dying village the Westmarch Rebellion's greatest general was revealed. Eras Grimnor wasn't, and never had been a handsome man, possessing a narrow face dominated by a large, hawkish nose that was part reason for his nomen. It was only accentuated by his dark hair pulled back into a taut tail and tied with a length of rawhide. Long scars adorned the high cheek boned visage, adding character, and deep-set, coal-black eyes glowered out from beneath arching eyebrows. His thin lips were currently clenched in disapproval, a look most rebel soldiers had seen more than once as of late.

As unique as his visage, the Hawk was an uncommon man amongst those that chose to throw off their oaths of fealty to king and crown and join the vastly depleted rebel force fighting against the rightful rule of Jerald Ironstorm.

For Tas Grimnor, rebel general and wanted traitor, was a man of honor, a claim few rebel officers or soldiers could make. A warrior through and through, determined and disciplined, his honor came from both personal choice and being born a noble from the old Houses of the Aramas. Coincidentally it was from the same House as Hel Kent, one of Jerald's most trusted advisers and generals, making them kin, a sore point with those that still followed the Ironstorm king. 

 Honor saw the Winter Hawk follow Urud to Kiersee Reach after Ironstorm had defeated him outside the walls of Tal Morun, though he didn't believe in the rebel cause. He followed because he swore an oath as an officer in Urud's Talemonese Army to faithfully serve the Usurper until the end of his days. An oath Grimnor now thoroughly regretted.

Despite his growing disdain for the rebellion he fought for, the Winter Hawk had worked hard to instill that same sense of duty and honor into his handpicked soldiers, the Ge'e Darian. It was a task his fellow generals had snickered and sneered at in the beginning. However, in these waning days of the Westmarch, it was Grimnor who had the last laugh as the only rebel general to consistently find victory against ever more determined loyalist forces. 

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