The Shining Wyrm

9.3

Father and Jewel’s tents ended up being placed in the very center of the encampment along with the other Gryphon Riders, space and bedding set aside for the Gryphons themselves and the tents for the Acting Generals of the army.

Smithson was there ready to finally unburden her of kit and cargo.

And Jewel welcomed it.

“Thank you, Squire Smithson, have you been keeping fed and watered on the road? We have a few barrels of ale in the supply. I could probably get you some small beer to better slake your thirst.”

Her squire turned red and shook his head firmly. Jewel would smile and assure him it was a jest but there were Knights and Lords about and she needed to keep up appearances. However she trusted Smithson understood the intent.

And he kept up proper decorum in his response besides.

“Is no problem Lady Jewel. I had a full canteen at the start, and I made sure to drink my fill every time we stopped for a spell.”

She nodded, it was good that her Squire had not foolishly deprived himself like the near dozen she had found among the Levy that apparently had never had to eat Traveler’s Bread before.

Jewel needed to have a word with the war council on the failure amongst the army to properly take care of their levies!

Which was why she was making her way to the real general of the army’s tent.

As senior-most in experience and rank, Count Fiebron was the first among Generals for the mustered armies of the campaign. But as an allied power he was not in sole command of all the army.

The honor of officially leading the ranks of Viznove lay with Lord Marcisław of Kliatbatrn. One of the deeply unpleasant men that had just last Debt's Season tried to barter and trade rights to Jewels' person in case of the unfortunate event of Father’s death.

It made Jewel tense that one of those awful conspirators was here and so highly ranked in the command. She thought that the Countess was being far too lenient with him after the traitorous talk he had offered regarding her and Father.

But it was not Jewel’s or even Father’s place to speak against the Countess.

And according to the Countess, Lord Marcisław of Kliatbatrn had seniority over Father.

Ostensibly it was because his barony mustered the majority of the cavalry for the army.

Even if by the scent of them, Jewel recognized it was almost entirely Rochford chargers they were riding.

But she was not going to deal with the deeply unpleasant man that held the rank of second Among Generals for the campaign.

No, she moved to Count Fiebron’s tent, already hearing and smelling his presence.

Although he was not alone; Jewel could smell Father as well, and with him four familiar scents.

The strange whiff of smoke, gold and absolute smugness that could be nothing but Fizzbunches.

The deep metallic tang of freshly spilled blood that lingered when Jaksa the Red was performing a working.

The subtle hint of sulfurous water that denoted Tsulogothulan was in attendance.

And the chill crisp smell of leaves just turning red that Jewel would never forget was Euewyn Weird of the Autumnal Briarwood of Bothgola.

But there were equally distinct and foreign smells in the tent as well.

Mingling in concentrations and character that Jewel could not say for certain how many or which kind.

But she suspected that there were going to be three other wizards in attendance.

She could hear words and things that only had the idea of words but shared nothing of the sort with their sound.

Mostly though, Jewel unfortunately heard Fizzbunches talking.

“Count Fiebron I must again insist that although we will aid you in this endeavor neither you nor any under decree by the Countess Bathory may hold sway or command over me or those of my enterprise. The engagement that I have with the Barony of Rochford is with its lord and his daughter alone. We are here solely for their safety and the security of their interests and for no other reason.”

It was in her experience not possible for Jewel to actually avoid being noticed when entering any room, let alone a tent that did not possess the dimensions to contain her.

Which meant that she had to suffice with only bringing her head, neck and shoulders into the quite already crowded interior of Count Fiebron’s tent.

As such Father and the Count readily turned to acknowledge her with a respectful bob of the head (not to be mistaken for a nod or stars forbid a bow).

The familiar faces (or equivalent) of the Wizards also gave some acknowledgement of greeting.

Of the strangers, Jewel felt the disappointment that there seemed to be only one more Weird in attendance.

A being that resembled a collection of lightly curled scrolls masquerading as either heavy winter cloak or equally heavy furs. The outer surface was made completely of half unfurled parchment with countless letters and vibrant illuminated illustrations upon every available surface revealed.

The ‘garment’ rose up into a man height shape with a sharply pointed ‘hood’ that curled forward to frame a space as hollow as Euewyn’s own visage.

It was almost akin to the Autumn Weird like that, but with vellum scrolls instead of leaves.

But as Jewel peered she recognized that the interior lining of the Weird’s cloak was distinctly rugged leather with ridges and metal adornments in a manner that briefly confused her before she recognized where she had seen such things before.

A Binding.

A book Binding.

With the hints of a spine running into darkness along the middle line and into the back of the hood. The furls of parchment exposed suddenly became clear for what it was.

Not scrolls at all.

They were pages, fantastically vast numbers of pages all nestled together in the figure like the feathers of a Griffon. Ruffling, shifting, furling and unfurling as the living thing they were.

A rainbow glory of colored ink, with silver and gold leaf shimmering over the Weird’s plumage of parchment.

And as Jewel watched closely the pages changed their letters and images as they were obscured and then revealed.

In contrast, the other two presumably mere wizards were almost forgettable. For one they actually looked like human beings.

If strangely clothed ones with very ostentatiously odd hats.

But compared to the four Weirds in attendance, they barely looked like anything but middle aged to elderly men.

Even Jaksa the red had a hint of more going on with his bizarrely too-smooth, near-black crimson hair and beard.

Fizzbunches, of course, saw Jewel and immediately turned his tail to the Count of Zekhedge to directly address her.

As if she was the only person present of any notable status at all.

“Ah! Jewel, so nice to see you again. I was just explaining to this boor that while our services will certainly aid to ensure your interests in this war, we are solely at your and your father’s service in this endeavor.”

And as the smugly pleased cat looked at her with eager and proud eyes, Jewel had a sudden shivering premonition of just what Euewyn and Tsulogothulan must have felt when Fizzbunches was negotiating terms with Father.

Somehow, the Cat Wizard was as bad or worse when he was on your side then he was opposing you.

Father cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention, his face a confused muddle of stern aggravation at Fizzbunches and mortified horror at his treatment of the Count.

“As I was trying to say, Lord Sorcerer Fizzbunches, in the interest of protecting the security and freedom of my daughter and the sanctity of our own agreement against the tyranny of the Realm, I think it would best to make of it a rotating duty amongst our sorcerous forces. One of you to see to Jewel’s safety directly and the other five distributed amongst the army to render such aid as is within their ability both on the march and in battle.”

The overly smug cat wizard smiled as if Father had said exactly as he expected then nodded to him, flicking his tail in the Duke’s face.

“Ah, is that so? Well that sounds like a perfectly sensible arrangement, I and the weirds will muster and convene the other sorcerers to decide placements. I expect the laywizards will always be attached to the army as it will less strain them with the challenge of keeping up with a Wyrm in the air.”

Father glanced at Fiebron and Jewel saw some meaningful weighting of thoughts and consideration passed in their expressions. Even a few half aborted gestures of Flight Cant twitching along their arms and hands too subtly for Jewel to read clearly.

Then Father turned fully on the smug faced Cat Wizard.

“Yes, I would prefer if the Countess’ Wizard Jaksa the red lea-”

“ADVISE!”

Jaksa shrieked his interruption, the entire room turning to consider him most intently and Jewel noted that he paled for reasons that probably had nothing to do with his preferred medium of sorcery being used.

“Most Humbly Advise the good Lord Sorcerer Fizzbunches and the esteemed Lord Sorcerer Urul. Purely for my regional expertise of course.”

Father glared at Jaksa the red, then shared another look with Count Fiebron who rolled his eyes very heavily and blew air through his near white mustache.

To the complete and utterly disrespectful lack of note from anyone but Jewel and her Father.

Who sighed heavily and continued.

“I would prefer if the Lord Fizzbunches took the advice and counsel from the Countess Bathory’s sworn Wizard Jaksa the Red, for both his regional expertise as well as cultural tradition of the way of our lands.”

Fizzbunches blinked slowly at Father then opened his mouth in apparent surprise and then lidded those same eyes in a conspiratorial gleam that left Jewel feeling even more suspicious of the smug little monster.

Father continued although he was looking rather annoyed with the entire predicament.

“This is, after all, the Countess of Viznove’s campaign. Enacted to aid in the security of Rochford and my daughter’s freedom but it is tradition for her interest to be involved in command.”

Fizzbunches gave a curt nod and a toothy grin that absolutely looked like it would spell great trouble and terrible plots in the future.

“Ah, I understand completely Lord Rochford! Have no fear I will certainly take on Jaksa the Red’s Advice with all the care it is due.”

Which set the wizard mentioned clenching several muscles in his face that Jewel was not at all sure the meaning of but she thought it was some kind of strangled panic.

And then the Cat wizard departed without a word, spinning around one of his corners directly before them all.

Leaving everyone else to suffer the awkwardness he had created.

After the silence continued with no one breaking it Jewel remembered why she had come here in the first place and before she realized what she was doing Jewel found herself tumbling into the brittle quiet like the Terror Boar itself.

“Oh! First Among Generals! I have news and concern towards the vigor and training of the levies!”