Grendhill Media Blog

Introspection Stings

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Grendhill

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Aton sat on one of the castle walls, looking out over the city of Grendhill. The wall beneath him, with its decorative impressions of large blocks sticking out an inch or two, was centuries old, having been built during the same time as several other defensive structures in Grendhill. The square surrounding the Thallenrose was another example. These were built in the early days of Grendhill, begun within a few years after Unification, as the kingdom gained identity as well as a need for a comprehensive defense system. Aton absentmindedly reviewed the defensive strategy in his mind, waiting for evening to come.

Invaders may attempt to enter from without the walls surrounding the city. The walls were twelve feet high at their lowest point—modest compared to other city walls, but deemed sufficient for Grendhill’s needs. They were duly patrolled and equipped with weaponry, though visitors were generally given the benefit of the doubt at the gate. After all, Grendhill hadn’t seen a direct attack in many years…

Hostile forces may attempt to control the water supply. Grendhill had redirected a stream to flow through the city, and maintained several large cisterns full of water at any given time. However, and despite the stream being buried for several miles upstream to prevent others from exploiting it, the water supply remained something of a vulnerability. The stream was drawn off of a major river though, and it was deemed infeasible for invaders to be able to poison the entire river sufficiently to be an unavoidable threat to Grendhill’s stream.

Enemies may originally appear as friends. Anyone could decide to turn against the throne at any time, it was true. Yet, there were safeguards in place. His father’s advisors included some of his most trusted acquaintances, some from childhood, and strict dogma was in place for evaluating any visitors as well as staff not counted within Domido Farella’s inner circle. Furthermore, visitors—foreign and local—were given quarters on the west side of the castle, opposite the royal chambers, and with the Guards’ offices in between. The royal chambers were also well above ground level, so almost nothing could reach them from the outside, short of flight. And always, there were archers within sight of the royal chambers’ balconies. Anything that might try to scale the walls would find scant enough purchase as hand- and footholds that even the worst archers would have ample time to remove them before they reached their goal.

Invaders may attempt to arrive by the Thallenrose. Aton and his siblings had practiced defending against that possibility today. The platform acted as a doorway to dozens of other worlds, and was the most carefully defended chink in Grendhill’s armor. If the Thallenrose was thought of as a doorway that could only fit a small number of people at a time, the doorway also had another side. The important difference is that this door had many other sides to it. It was not possible to post guards on every alternate other side to the door. For one, that would be a significant addition the number of guards Grendhill required, beside the added commerce-interrupting traffic that changing that many guards would create. And perhaps more significantly, Grendhill could not post guards in that many other lands and kingdoms without expecting to host as many foreign guards at the Thallenrose. No, foreigners guarded themselves against entry, not exit, and Grendhill had to be content with doing the same.

Cross-world invaders do not care what time of day it is in Grendhill. Just a reminder that the square surrounding the Thallenrose could not suffer from relaxed guard at any time of day. Different worlds had different day lengths, different Turn lengths. True, the square was less active at night, allowing fewer guards at night because it was easier to watch, but it had to be watched nonetheless. Invaders may arrive at midnight in summer, having just left their launch point early in the morning in mid spring, as refreshed as can be and with eyes needing no adjustment to the dark.

Grendhill must be ready.

Royal arms are always on duty. Unbreakable and flawlessly sharp weapons were handed off from relieved guards to their replacements, with some constantly on site at key locations, at gates, at the Thallenrose, outside the royal chambers. Others stayed with key indivuals. Captain Bailen carried one. Still others were assigned to training, so the Guard could be accustomed to how the legendary arms felt in one’s hands. But the majority were assigned to particular posts, always ready to fight when needed. This was also a reminder to Aton that he did not have a weapon of his own.

The Farella house is always on duty. This was less literal. It was a reminder to keep up with training, to stay in touch with the Guard and possible threats present, to be ready to jump into the defense of Grendhill at any moment.

Aton felt another sting. He could never be as ready as his siblings without his own Instrument in his hands. He made do with his twin dao, but he knew it would never be the same as his brothers and sisters, as his father and his family experienced with their Royal Arms. Tomorrow he would take part in the ceremonial Departure with his siblings, a symbolic short quest to retrieve their weapons, and immediately return home. His siblings would stay behind and spend two weeks each in isolation, becoming familiar with their own personal tools of defense. Aton would return home.

Why did it have to happen now, anyway? Some fifteen and half Turns, just to stick with the traditional Year calendar? Some great-grandfather of his wanted his children to go when they turned seventeen Years old. Silly. Why not just wait until the sixteenth Turn?

Aton looked up from his sullen reverie and saw Valkyr walking herself home for dinner, uncomfortable-looking guards not following her as she passed them and told them to stay where they were. Did she still have flour on her clothing? Mother wouldn’t be happy if she saw that. At least brush it off before leaving the baker’s shop, Aton thought ruefully.

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Brief Interim

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Grendhill

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King Domido Farella watched as the latest petitioner left the court. While the next one was shown in, he saw four of his children entering through a door to the side. Domire was the first to reach him and take a seat next to him.

“Where’s Valkyr?” Domido asked him.

“She’s getting flour on her hands or something. She said you excused her.”

Domido nodded. “Ah, that I did. Well, she’ll be back for dinner, anyway. And all of you need to get ready for your trip. Are you packed up yet?”

Tido answered. “Yes, mostly. Not much left. We’ll be fine.”

Aton looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m still not convinced I fit into this Departure thing, Father. I’m not going to go get anything. What’s the point in going at all?”

Domido looked at him, inspecting his mood. The next petitioner was in place and ready to address him. “We’ll talk about this more in detail later, Aton. For now, observe well. If something happened to the rest of us and you were left alone, you would sit where I am sitting and rule Grendhill, Royal Arm or no, and you would do a good job of it. For now, you must prepare.”

Domido turned forward in Gren’s Seat to face the petitioner.

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Know Yourself, Seek Improvement

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“Good fight! Good fight.” Captain Bailen approached from the side of the field, helping combatants to their feet and shaking hands. “Good fight, all of you. Tido, good wrist lock. Channer, how’s your wrist?” He paused to see Channer give him a nod, turning his wrist around and rubbing his neck with his other hand.

Captain Bailen continued with his assessment of the struggle. “Domire, if you’re leading the defense, you need to give more instructions. You hung back somewhat and had a good view of what was going on. You’re tall enough that you could see over your opponents’ shoulders. Your siblings and other guards were in the thick of it. Let them benefit from your view. Aton, that was good that you went with it. Went well over all, but… All of you, you can’t let your guard down when you think you’re winning. Yes, you stopped the assault, yes you were taking them down. But where are they from and what is their full mission? A dead Sageman can’t tell you anything. Besides, this could have been only the first wave. Once it’s been long enough without his return, they’d start sending more anyway. They only have to stop because of crowding. True, in a real situation, more of your reinforcements would be arriving right now, but you can’t let your guard down for a moment.”

Bailen looked over at Valkyr and Pilbon, who was giving her a critique on her archery. “Master Pilbon, can you give us a minute please?” Pilbon nodded, and Valkyr came closer to the group. “Valkyr, how’s your training with the blade coming?”

Valkyr shrugged. “I’m working on it, but it feels somewhat alien to me still.”

Bailen sighed. “You’ve got to work on that short sword. You need to be able to fight in close quarters. Your archery is great and all that, but sometimes—like this scenario here—you’re more needed up close. Even you have to be careful where you’re shooting when there’s a fight like this one. I saw you sighted in and holding shots because it wasn’t safe to take them. That’s when you pull your sword out and jump in.”

Valkyr nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Misol, you did well assisting Tido. Keep that up. Now all of you, overall, good job. Remember, tomorrow in front of everyone, don’t be nervous. Just do what you’ve been doing and keep your wits about you. When your Aunt Stalfa did her Departure—remember, she only has a shield—she carried a dagger as well and used the shield as best she could. She put on a great show, too. You just do what you can.” He nibbled his lip momentarily. “That’s it for today. Well done, have a good day, get ready for tomorrow.”

He turned and walked off to see to his duties with the Guard.

Pilbon called Valky over and resumed his archery critique. Tido stepped up to Aton. “Thanks, Aton. You had my back.”

Aton shrugged. “We all have each other’s backs. That’s just the way the fight went. Besides, they don’t attack me as much since I’m supposedly not so threatening as the rest of you.” Aton sighed. “First prince of Grendhill without a weapon, best painter, best musician, best on the ball field. No proper weapon of my own. You and the others have a clear job. Join father and Aunt Stalfa and lead the guard and protect the land. I’ll paint all our enemies away, or serenade them to pacifism. Some help that is.” He sighed, frowning.

“No, Aton,” Tido assured him, “you’ve got it made. You’re one of us, and a fantastic fighter. Your fighting…isn’t the same as the rest of us.” He hesitated, admitting Aton’s sensitive spot. “But after Father and Domire, you’re the best with the sword. Only I can best you with a battle axe. Only Misolfa can outshine you with the hammer, and only Valkyr can hit targets more true with an arrow. You shouldn’t be bummed. You’re the best with those two rapiers, too, and throwing a dagger.”

Domire and Misolfa walked up. Pilbon continued coaching Valkyr, who was drawing her bow and pointing practice arrows at a post on the edge of the grass-filled square.

Aton kicked the grass with his toe. “You’re right, Tido, of course. But you guys get to go on your trip. Well, I get to go there. But then I come right back. You guys actually go to the training point and pick up your weapons. I just come back and it’s life as usual. It’s not fair.”

They saw Pilbon finish with Valkyr, and Valkyr started jogging towards them. They all began walking back towards the city. Valkyr caught up after a few more seconds.

“So, what’re we all doing this afternoon?” Valkyr said. She had a twinkle in her eye. Aton relaxed at the change of subject.

Domire answered. “Well, Father wanted us to go watch him in court, but from the sound of your voice it sounds like you have plans afterward.”

Valkyr pursed her lips. “Well, perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t.”

Misolfa laughed out loud. “Okay, Valkyr, you’re going to go see Jacquer the Baker again, aren’t you?”

Valkyr turned with an amused fire in her eyes. “Don’t call him that! Just ‘Jacquer’ will do just fine, thank you very much!”

Misolfa couldn’t help herself. “Fine,” she said. She drew her voice out laboriously in a show of resignation. “Even though his father is a baker, and  ‘Jacquer the Baker’ rhymes so nicely—what more could you ask for—I suppose I will respect your wishes and call him ‘Just Jacquer’ from now on!”

Valkyr said nothing and punched her sister in the shoulder.

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