Season of Bloom - 7. Baron's Burden

“We don’t have time for this. The ritual should have been done yesterday,” Tristian said, pulling the blanket away from the body.

“Can you afford not to ask him?” Faes pressured, looking at the crushed corpse of a half-elf, this Baron Cassiel.

It was mutilated, broken from what looked like a boulder hitting it. Faes wasn’t sure even the cleric could restore life to the corpse; he hadn’t had much luck with that dwarf.

“Fine. But you might be wasting resources by not asking,” the half-drow muttered darkly. “Do what you will. I pray for your sake that you are correct.”

He left the cleric to his task, Tristian setting up vials of aromatic liquids around the body. Making his way to Lapis, Faes set a hand on the amurrun’s back, Lapis letting out an uncertain merf as he was led away from the group.

“Look, I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I have a bad feeling about this. You’ve been good to me, and I don’t want you caught in the middle of this. If anything goes wrong, take Khemet and get away from here. I doubt anyone would follow you. We’ll meet up under the old sycamore if we are ever separated, understood?”

The catfolk nodded warily, letting out a low call to his tiger. The large cat padded up next to his master silently, Lapis murmuring into the tiger’s ear as Faes looked on.

“I don’t know what to do about the kobold. If he killed a troll, he should be able to handle himself,” Faes added.

“I’ll protect Kiba. He can ride on Khemet’s back. It’s not our fault the baron died. We helped, right?”

Faes sighed quietly.

“They’re allowing themselves to hope. I’m being realistic. Everything I know about the gods says that following them must be done willingly. Including accepting their help. This baron… he died early, yes, but he is also free of his burdens. Would he shackle himself back to the world? I know I wouldn’t. But then, I owe the world nothing. Maybe he’s different.”

He looked back at the kneeling cleric, Regongar, Linzi, and Ekundayo standing beside Tristian silently.

“Ten minutes to cast a prayer to the aether from a scroll. Ten minutes and we find out whether it was all worth it,” the half-drow muttered, pulling up his hood.

The shadows welcomed him, comforting his aching eyes as he looked on at the gathered adventurers.

“Wasn’t it worth it to end a threat to the land?” Lapis frowned.

“Oh sure, if you want to think that way. Be altruistic if you can afford it. I can’t,” Faes said. “The moment I let my guard down is the moment some elf tries to skewer me for being misbegotten.”

It was not an idle fear either, that was the entire reason he’d become an adventurer. No home meant he was harder to find, harder to kill.

He busied himself with packing as the soft chanting from the cleric rose in fervor, entreating the gods, begging their aid. There was a sudden burst of light, the scroll in his hands turning to ash, and the half-drow glanced over curiously, watching a finger twitch… and then a hand… and then nothing as the corpse went limp once more, deflating in death.

“He’s gone,” the elementalist said, turning back to Lapis. “Find Kiba.”

Shoving a coil of rope into his bag, Faes hoisted it over his shoulder, standing quickly as footsteps squished on moist ground behind him.

“You’re in a hurry to leave, huh?” Regongar said, the half-orc towering over him. “Seems rather suspicious if you ask me.”

“Good thing no one asked you then,” Faes muttered. “Your baron is dead. Who is going to pay us for services rendered? No one. Why would we stay somewhere we won’t make gold? Besides, your cleric isn’t exactly happy with any of us.”

“Like anyone cares what Tristian thinks. Come, stay a while. Perhaps you’ll have bearing on the next ruler of these lands. Unless you try to make the cat king,” Regongar snorted.

“You’re awfully happy for someone who just lost a companion… again.”

“See, what you don’t get is we’ve already been discussing the next baron. First was Theofrid, but he’s long gone. Octavia has been handling the land for the last week, but she’s too soft. Perhaps an outsider’s input is just what we need. Contrary to what you believe, we don’t put all our eggs in one nest.”

The half-orc set an arm around the half-drow, Faes shivering at the strength in the simple touch. He had no choice but to follow Regongar to the others.

The body was moving when he returned.

Lapis stared at the dead baron in alarm, the group standing around the corpse treating it like just a normal occurrence. The amurrun snuck closer to them, Khemet hanging back at the sight of the moving corpse. He could hear hoarse words escaping the baron’s lips, as though a soul within was straining to be heard.

“Octavia…” the corpse groaned. “Talk to Octavia…”

“Cassiel, why won’t you return?” Tristian asked, his own voice worn and weary.

“Theofrid’s gone… I wasn’t fit to be baron… Find someone better… Talk to Octavia…”

Lapis frowned, trying to figure out what Octavia had to do with this.

“Well, that settles it,” Regongar grunted as the body went limp yet again. “The dark elf was right. We should have asked first.”

“The capitol is only a day away, should we speak with Octavia like he said?” Lapis frowned.

“I have a better idea, cat. You are our leader right now, and there was something Cassiel never got around to doing,” Regongar smirked at him.

“The grove?”

“He can’t go there; Cassiel said the invitation was for him alone,” Linzi protested.

“So we send Lapis in his place, and he can tell us what the invitation was for. If he’s going to be our leader, then he should be a leader,” the half-orc sneered.

“No one ever said anything about him being a leader,” Tristian frowned. “You are asking-”

“For him to help the barony. Is it any different than what they just did? I’m sure whoever becomes Baron will reward them greatly for their aid.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll go,” Lapis frowned. “But I don’t know how to get there.”

Regongar threw a scroll at him, the amurrun catching it nimbly. Unrolling the parchment, he found a map within, a spot marked far to the north of the troll lair.

“The Verdant Chambers. Surely a traveller like you will have no trouble finding them. Faes and Kiba can accompany us back to the capital; I’ve heard the nymph who lives there is not a fan of crowded places.”

“I’m giving you my potions if you do this,” Linzi frowned. “Cassiel and I both agreed that it was probably a trap.”

“But if it needs to happen, I’ll do it,” Lapis said. “Khemet and I have handled traps before, and I don’t like it, but it will help, right?”

“Oh most certainly. Who knows why that nymph would want to trap people? It’s better to deal with it and not let anyone else get caught in her snare,” Regongar grinned. “In fact, you should start out at once. I’ll even give you some food for the road.”

“Regongar, if you have bad feelings toward someone, you should tell them, not send them in the hopes of their death,” Tristian frowned.

“Bad feelings? Who, me? Never! I want the cat to come back so we can try our new whip out together,” the half-orc laughed. “The sooner he leaves, the sooner he’ll return.”

“I’ll leave as soon as I’ve said goodbye to Kiba,” the amurrun said quietly.

If nothing else, it would mean he couldn’t become baron. No one would accept a strange cat as the baron when he wasn’t even present.

Kiba watched the cats walk away slowly, his tail trying desperately to balance on the back of Linzi’s pony. Lapis’ new chain shirt gleamed in what little sunlight passed through the pines around them, Khemet’s fur sticky with dried blood and small scars. The kobold wasn’t sure why they were going off on their own; didn’t the softskins realize there was safety in numbers? He doubted they would even make it to the end of their journey, and that made Kiba sad.

That sadness remained through the long ride home, the group moving slowly through the bog, sparing the horses on their way back. Kiba clutched the saddle under him in a death grip as he swayed on the pony’s back, his legs spread wider than they had any right being. They started hurting early in the ride, but the kobold kept his mouth silent, wondering if they had sent the cat away for talking too much. He wasn’t sure that was it, but Kiba was taking no chances. He had been alone once before, abandoned by the Sootscales, and he never wanted to go through that again.

Linzi called something out around midday, and the group came to a stop. She helped Kiba off the horse, the kobold biting back a yelp as his legs slowly slid back together with an alarming amount of clicks.

All around him were the rumblings of taller people taking a break, pulling out food and drink as they found dry spots to rest in. Kiba secreted himself away, pulling Apsu out to grant him a little freedom from his pocket. He fell against a tree with a sigh, his entire body aching with exertion. Kobolds were clearly never meant to ride horses, and he prayed he would never have to get on one again once he returned to the tribe.

Though he hadn’t helped the softskin chieftain. He was dead, and Kiba hadn’t saved him. There was no way the kobold could return home; he had failed. He would have to find something else he could do to get back into their good graces.

“Kiba?”

The kobold looked up, tucking Apsu away quickly and trying to ignore the nagging feeling of anger at the back of his head. Linzi was staring at him in concern, the halfling holding a small loaf of bread.

“You should eat, we aren’t stopping again until Ismenia, and there’s going to be a lot of talking after that. I’ll try to get you out of it, but Tristian is being very insistent.”

“Kiba does not talk to softskins…” the kobold frowned. “Kiba does not speak your words.”

“That was my point!” Linzi exclaimed. “But they want me to translate for you. We’re all very curious how a kobold managed to kill a troll on his own. Either way, we need to get back on Nel’s back soon. The trip is still going to take some time.”