The Tales of Miriela: Shadowborn

Chapter 20: Vicar Alaine

The Western Gate opened. Tts Iron bars screeched like the crows the sat upon it. Vicar Alaine sat high upon his horse, cutting through the rolling fog. They had finally reached Oaksguard.

"Round a company and establish a perimeter here at the gate. The rest of the Vanguard shall ride with me in three individual companies," Sir Vicar Alaine said to a subordinate officer of the Vanguard, as he rode forward to greet the Oaksguard bannermen that awaited the Vanguard's arrival.

Sir Vicar Alain came riding forth from the rear of the Vanguard formation. He rode in battledress; a steel helm that bore slots only for his eyes and mouth, a full dressing of chain mail, light enough for him to move in battle, yellow and orange sigils of the High House Wullmont, and a great sword which hung from his hip.

"Gentlemen, good morning. I am Sir Vicar Alaine, commander of the Vanguard Royale, protector of the sacred city of Ferenor, servant to the Gods, the Catredal, and your King, Kline Wullmont." Vicar stopped and grinned slightly through his steel helm. "We sent a raven to inform of our coming. I wish to speak with Lord Gessel, High House of Oaksguard." Vicar Alaine stayed mounted upon his horse, as he spoke downward to the bannermen who stood on foot.

"Hello Sir," The bannermen coughed to clear his throat. "Lord Gessel awaits you. We would be honored to escort the Vanguard, Sir Vicar." The bannerman spoke to Sir Vicar with a trembling voice. The Vanguard was said to be the deadliest force in all of Miriela, and even those in the East knew it.

Vicar and his men rode towards the Keep of Lord Gessel, located near the Noble District. Their horses, snarling brown and black beasts that stood taller than any man, were nearly too big for the thin cobblestone streets. The city of Oaksguard was not too different than Ferenor. Markets, houses, stone streets.

"Mark patrol outside the Keep, I'll go in alone." They had arrived at Lord Gessel's Keep. It stood in the Noble District, which was centered in the middle of the city. The city was built in a circle, each district a layer, the center being the Keep. It was a large Keep, larger than any building Kline Wullmont had in Ferenor.

The architecture was foreign, something Vicar had never before seen. Long banners hung from each side of the building flowing in the wind, banners of House Wullmont. Lord Gessel seemed desperate to show his affiliations. Vicar dismounted from his horse, and followed the three bannermen towards the Keep doors.

"Lord Gessel awaits you just up the stairs, Sir. Throne room is up there, come on then, I'll show you to it." The other two bannermen left, as the head bannerman lead Sir Vicar the rest of the way. The two walked up a grand staircase, made of marble, lined with golden hand rails. It did not seem like a city in need of the supplies Ferenor had been sending.

After the ascent they passed two large windows which overlooked the Nobel District; houses, streams, gardens, shops, Vicar could see it all. The bannerman lead Sir Vicar past the windows and to a closed door, made of Oak wood. The door was at least ten feet tall and half as wide.

"After you Sir." The bannerman swung the heavy door open with a mighty push. The door cracked and churned as it opened, like the sound of a falling of a tree.

"Lord Gessel, High House of Oaksguard, third of his name, Governor of the Eastern border of The Realm. May I present to you this morning, the commander of the finest force in Miriela, chair of the High Council, Sir Vicar Alaine." With the introduction completed, Vicar walked forward, and entered the throne room. Lord Gessel awaited him upon his Oakwood throne.

Lord Gessel stood from his throne and greeted Sir Vicar with a smile. "Welcome, to Oaksguard, Sir Vicar Alaine." The two met halfway and shook hands. Lord Gessel was a large man. Sir Vicar always pictured him much thinner. And perhaps he was, at one time, but not now. He was fatter than any man Vicar had ever seen. He wobbled when he walked and could not go far without desperately gasping for air.