"I understand," Scarmother Alea nodded. "Think of it this way: how did you feel when you were first issued your sword and armor?"
Jason mulled the thought over... "I felt invincible."
Invincible. Alea had to cover her mouth as she burst into high-pitched laughter... "Wow. Really..."
The Scout looked away, scratching the back of his head.
Ah, to be young~
Alea allowed herself a reassuring smile.
"Anyroad, it's the same thing. We have been gifted by the dragon in the Flame. And like any issued piece of gear, we still have to train with it-- to respect its power...
"Incidentally," She smirked, "that is also why I asked if my intuition matched your reports. I'm human. Humans err."
pαпdα Йᴏνê|,сòМ "But..." Jason was still hesitant, "The voice we hear... it's... it's a dragon? Since Tyrion's inception, we've always had a High Oracle to interpret the will of the Flame... Why has a dragon suddenly appeared... thousands of years later?"
"Have faith, Son of Qotal," Alea drew her sword and rested it on her shoulder. "The dragon commands no less than is commanded to all of Tyrion. Defend humankind. Destroy its enemies. Doesn't it make your blood run hot?"
Jason nodded... "Yes, Scarmother..."
Alea gave the young Immunes a wink, "We just use a bit more dragonfire, right, sweetie?"
Jason's spine straightened immediately, "Y-YES, Scarmother!!"
A flush of red stained his cheeks, perhaps from the cold-- or maybe from Alea's teasing.
That would do.
"Sons and daughters of Qotal!" Alea shouted.
She raised her sword and turned to her century of nearly a hundred faithful mercenaries. "We're moving out!!"
They raised their fists and weapons to the sky, shouting in affirmation.
"""We hear you, Scarmother!!!"""
...
Alea rubbed at the warpaint on her face. It provided a bit of protection from the cold winds, but her lips were painfully dry. A few moons prior, she would have been miserable... but with the dragon's gift, she kept warm even throughout the recent winter.
Steadily trekking up the rocky hills, she followed her intuition to lead her century. Though the path winded slightly and was treacherous at certain points, they made good progress.
Then... her forward team reported a suspicious individual blocking the path.
Just one.
She first assumed it was a hermit living in the mountains... an eccentric retired adventurer, perhaps. However, they were in Tyrion. If the old man found out about heretics settling on his mountain, he'd probably offer to assist any way he could.
He might even be able to teach her Scouts a lesson or two.
Ascending a ridge several men wide, Alea came across that person.
...and he was nothing like she was hoping for.
He was tall-- nearing seven feet... and underneath his thick cloak were heavy plates of blackened steel armor. Hateful spikes jutted out of his shoulders and he wore a dark helmet. The way his eyeholes were cut, it looked like he was judging her-- and she could swear the eyes hidden underneath glowed with danger.
Most worrisome were his plate gauntlets. Each had three long claws of Tyrion steel. From the distance, Alea thought they looked like an uncommon weapon issued to Church Centurions... but she couldn't be certain.
The armored figure spoke with an echoey male voice, "[You are not welcome here.]"
Alea stepped forward and cleared her throat. If it were a few moons prior, she would have been terrified... but she was the heir of ash and fire. She was an honorable and just Daughter of Qotal. She had nothing to fear.
"Honored Sir, I am Centurion Alea from the guild, Sons of Qotal. If you'd allow me to explain--"
"[How many are you?]" The man interrupted her, "[I expected more.]"
Alea took a deep breath, trying not to lose her patience. She was the heir of ash and fire. She was above losing her temper just because of the rudeness of a single mortal man, "I have with me a full century. Please allow us to pass, so we may investigate the--"
"[You. Shall. Not. Pass,]" The man said with finality.
"I... see..." Alea turned back to her Scouts... and to the rest of her company. They had been marching for less than a bell, so everyone was still in good spirits. And those spirits were quickly turning to indignant frustration.
They could reasonably find another path... and Alea's intuition was telling her that it was probably better to...
She had a choice to make.
She could avoid the armored man, directing her company to do the same... but she'd lose a bit of face with her subordinates in the process.
Or... she could challenge the man.
If he didn't comply, they could subdue him and tie him up. They'd explain the situation by presenting a few severed heretic heads... or apologize profusely if they didn't find anything. As long as they set him free before he froze or starved to death, it wouldn't weigh heavily on her conscience.
"We need to ascend these hills," Alea declared. "And we were planning on going this way--"
She furrowed her brows in sudden realization, "unless there's a better path?"
There was a tiny hope in Alea's heart, believing in the goodness of all humans. Maybe the armored man was advising them out of good will?
"[This...]" The armored man's deep voice shunted Alea back to reality, "[Is the only path... that humans can safely ascend.]"
"Thank you," Alea nodded with a heavy heart, "Then we will be going through here.
"Step aside, honorable sir..." She inclined her head deeply, "I don't want to have to hurt you."
The armored man moved... walking slowly, his heavy boots clomping on the cold, hard-packed dirt.
Alea tensed up, watching... wary of an attack... her Scouts all drew swords and arrows, as well.
The man passed by without a word... just walking away.
Alea looked up to the sky and breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the dragon in her heart.
"GRARRRGHHH!!!"
Her eyes shot open, hearing the shout of immense pain.
Turning her body, she saw that six claw blades of Tyrion steel pierced through Jason's back.
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