I put this story in General, but there are some warnings I need to apply: Violence, Implications, and Abuse.
Interloper is based in the world of Faian, a world of my own creation I have been working on.
I hope folk enjoy this first chapter.
Word Length: 20k+
________
Interloper
Captive Oturan
By Lichard Nixon
Based in the world of Faian

“Come on Neah! We are not far!” The Kerk’s voice rang out far off, as an otterfolk stirred from his study. Draped in a bright purple robe, Neah’s head arose and stared out across the forest. She smiles seeing the bright and plump face of her brother of her adoptive family peeking out from a distance, also dressed in bright purple robes. His face was not covered as hers was, marching over and quickly gathering their things.

The two were scribes of their clan, but they were not from Kerkia although a far walk from the orange forest they were coming to study and a vast coast of intense marshlands laid her brother’s homeland. She smiled and got up from her seat, dusting herself off but never letting go of the book she was carrying and keeping a hardy study over. Closing it and setting it down carefully, she went over to help her brother load up their sacks of writing utensils and empty papers which would soon be filled with all manner of lore.

“Oh, don’t overextend yourself Isaiah. We aren’t there just yet, ya know.”

“Aye, while true, I’d prefer we didn’t waste such time with idle talk! Every day we aren’t there getting those samples for our ancestor, the more likely father will reconsider us going out into the world! Gods, last thing I need is being coped up with those wretches back in the hall!”

“Oh don’t be like that either.” Neah smiled, helping load into their small cart pulled by a annoyed looking donkey “Those are all brothers, sisters, nieces—”

Neah was cut off as Isaiah finished her thoughts, having heard the spiel before “cousins, nephews, and a few aunts an’ uncles. I know. Every blasted creature on that island is a Tendrov.”

“Then stop worrying, even if we don’t get what the ancestor wanted, we’ll still have plenty of time to impress on all of them back in the hall at least. The fact we got chosen to be out here is a blessing in itself.” Neah sounded excited, humming a hymn to herself she had learned from the clan who had adopted her as the two scribes continued, and Neah reflected on her life.

She felt blessed in many strange ways, even if she started from a cursed beginning. She was born in Reidland, a Ratik state for which she along with many of her people had iron clasped about their neck, a symbol of their ‘eternal gratitude’ for servile abuse to the ratfolk masters. She remembered of Reidland only two things, the first being sold by her first master to a forestry where she was meant to chop and carve wood for boats for the remainder of her life and being caught by her second master trying to read. She was at first to be harshly punished, but a visting creature to Reidland had stopped it, a cloaked and overly dressed Kerk who she was at first frightened of. She knew of the undead through tales of the north, of how the shadow worshippers up in that land would raise the dead and commune with spirits, but the being who would buy her from her second master and bring her back to its clan living on an isle in Gurchland made her rethink those old tales. It revealed to herself only briefly as a Lich of the Kycer, from a land called Kerkia.

Beneath those old and fat robes of cloth and behind the scarf mask it wore stared back with skeletal and dark eyes, aflame with a pale blue light. She was frightened of him at first, fearing the worst of what he intended to do to her. Yet, instead he was kind (although a bit cold), fed her and sought to question her. She had been genuine in wanting to learn to read and write, just as the Ratik did in their spare time, but she and her people were long forbidden from it in Reidland. The lich had scoffed at such things and had begun to help her to read on their journey. When they came to the little isle off the coast of Gurchland, she was met by people she had no idea even existed. They were not Beastfolk, their skin had no fur, their eyes retreated into their head, they had no claws, or tails, or really anything. Yet, as they met her and the Lich, they spoke in a language she did not understand at first and was introduced to her new adoptive family in an odd way.

These Kerks were not native to Gurchland, they were a clan from a great peninsula called Kerkia and they had traveled with the Lich who fled that land to settle amongst the Ratik who took them in. They were known to her as the Tendrovs, which she could only guess meant ‘Tender’ or ‘Rope-Tender’ in their language. She was shocked by them in many ways, living beneath a strange stone city in small huts and who all gathered in a great hall to greet the Lich and her. It was there she met her adoptive father, the patriarch of the clan who would come to care for her, and on the day of her induction into the clan, he had personally removed the iron clasp around her neck. She spent her time learning to read and write, and when old enough her father introduced her to the Scribe Hall, a great building of books and scrolls where strange robed Kerks and others lived for the singular purpose of cataloging all information.

She learned much of her clan, and came to learn their customs, language, and various opinions through her time researching and talking with her adoptive brother Isaiah. Isaiah was not well liked, born to the 3rd brood of the clan, who were deemed to be too burdensome for a family of Kerks to bare. It still somewhat amazed her that the entire family was of just one generation, with other ‘aligned clans’ spread around the island either feuding with one another or bothering the local Ratik governor. She had no qualms with becoming a scribe, since she already had been so studious and her adoptive mother being quite pushy on the matter. The Kerks were loud and violent, but they had an emotional and softer side she found charming. They never treated her like a lesser, and never failed in showing interest in her concerns. It would have been off putting had they not been so honest as to why the Lich had saved her and inducted her into his home. It clear she was luckier for having been more interested in books and the care of information, and she kept to that specialization quite well.

Now they were in Forestwatch, as vassal of Wargland. The ancestor had tasked them with a special commission to go to the Fearum marches to collect samples from the forest of eternal fall. It had been a long-standing fascination, but near generations of struggling to build up a relationship with Wargland’s king and Forestwatch’s chieftains was a difficult affair. Gurchland was after all a part of the Confederacy, and Wargland’s constant humiliation of the Great Horde’s successor states made the Warglanders ever suspicious of strange Kerks and supposed friends of the Great Horde to have such a sudden interest in the eternal southern blight. The mission had been simple, to collect samples from the trees and find an accurate history to copy and bring back to the scribe hall. The lands of the Autumn Reich were isolated for a reason, for a magical barrier of eternal fall would rot and poison any food or drink of those not approved who wander beyond its borders.

Neah nearly chuckled about all of her and Isaiah’s misadventures in the country of Forestwatch. They had begun their journey poorly when she and Isaiah were accosted by Reidland goons in the port they were leaving, they had been temporarily captured by overly cautious Wargland knights, and they were nearly arrested again when Isaiah had gotten into a brawl with an overly rude Fearum. Isaiah was not exactly a good warrior, if being one at all, but Kerks had little mind for their own lives, and he was no exception. They were now near the last major village which led up to a fort which overlooked a choke point between two small cliffs which led to the sight of the great orange forest. Isaiah had found the road which led to that place, and as they traveled onward, there was considerable excitement.

The two arrived in a small village called Reyrum, a Fearum farming community whose tribe provided food to a fortress not far off. The two did not stay long, getting strange looks from the locals. She did not know the language of the Fearum very well, but Isaiah apparently did. He spoke at length with one of the warriors, who coldly pointed to a southern dirt path which led them upward. She and Isaiah were too excited to stop and rest, pushing their faithful donkey pulling their cart full of valuable supplies up towards a distant fort. On a hill, the two stopped, mesmerized by what they saw before time.

A massive and great number of autumn trees thickly lined together which looked old and withered. The bright and colorful reds, oranges, and browns of leaves constantly fell from their height and onto the ground, ominously begging for it to be painted. There were no birds which sang from the heights of the vast forest, and no animal was seen leaving or entering. In all directions the two looked left and right and could see the forest was like a line, cutting into the land in an uncanny way. Neah did not fear this, as her brother felt no fear at all. They just wanted to know more and shouldering their packs full of gear for their studies, continued onward with wide smiles.
_________________
The two camped for their first two days in the Fearum fort, coming to know one of the local captains who was aware of their presence. He was a fount of information as much as warnings, telling the two he would have felt less stressed if they stayed in the fort itself. However, Neah felt insistent, arguing they would perform their duties better closer to the forest. Soon enough, the two were setting up a camp at the very edge of the great orange line of trees, kept safe by two bored and younger guards who camped with them. Neah had set up her and Isaiah’s tent as the two guards cautiously made their own within a small circle. They were within sight of the fortress as Neah could see her bigger brother at the edge of the forest.

Neah went over and saw Isaiah holding a loaf of bread, and slowly inserted it past the tree line little by little. Before their eyes, the loaf began to grow mold and crumble suddenly and quickly until it was dry. The foul smell coming from it was also rather sudden as Isaiah looked at the now rotted loaf with some amazement.

“I didn’t think it would be that quick.” Isaiah admitted, looking out at the forest with curious amazement. “To think, this is all magic! Such auras are not, should not, be possible! I believe it took but a few moments, maybe a second or two. Look at this, Neah. The loaf is wet to the touch. So oddly specific. Hard to believe a people live beyond this barrier.”

Neah nodded, although not to the same excitement as her brother. She touched the bread and frowned “I suppose were lucky pa isn’t here, or he’d have beaten us both for wasting bread.”
“Well, so long as you don’t tell him, I won’t.” Isaiah cringed “Though we can’t do our studies without knowing. Let us begin.”

Neah nodded and both returned to their camp, opening a box from their cart, and picking up some glass vials and flasks. Several them had liquids in them, such as fresh water, sea water, rum, milk, several kinds of juices, and a pure alcohol. Some were completely empty as the two went back towards the base of the tree line to make their observations. Isaiah did the honors as he waited for Neah to sit down and open her book, writing down quickly a list of each container. The scribes and their oddities drew the interest of the two bored guards who came over to watch all of this unfold.

“Alright, try the water first.”

Isaiah slowly began to thrust the vial full of fresh water into the forest line and the water immediately began to turn brownish. “The clearness has become brown, Neah. I’d say I see some splotches of something, a fizz of some poison I think.” Isaiah opened the bottle and took a whiff of it, retching quickly “Smells—” he coughed “Eck! Smells like undead flesh been out in the sun for too long! You remember Uncle Two? Exactly like that.”

One of the Fearum guards raised an eyebrow. The two were speaking in his language and asked “You speak Fearum? Surprised you aren’t speaking your own language, Kerkian or whatever.”

“Uncle ‘Two’?” The other guard asked. Neah turned and smiled, explaining to the best of her ability “Oh, tis rude for Kerks to speak their own language in front of strangers. Aye, his name is Two. He was made into a guard of the Gurchland Kycer, but it was kinda botched.”

The two guards stared at her, wanting to ask more questions, but figured in silence it was perhaps best to not dwell on it. Neah wrote down what she had heard as she looked around and yelled “Isaiah! Wait, that isn’t—”

Isaiah was drinking the rotting water, clearly not enjoying it. One of the guards arose alarm and rushed to find some strong drink. “You idiot!” He yelled in anger “It’s poison, don’t you—” The guard stopped in his tracks when Isaiah seemed almost fine before suddenly puking on the ground. He wretched himself up suddenly and yelled back “I am no idiot, beastfolk! No need for such insults!” The offended Kerk’s sudden anger turned back to a softness as Neah came over, and began harshly speaking to him “Oh what were you thinking, Isaiah!”

“I mean, we gotta know everything. Yup, it was definitely poison.” He commented. Neah couldn’t help but give a friendly sigh and pat his shoulder as the Kerk sat down and recovered. The guard came over, almost in disbelief “How are you alive? Or not passed out. Poisoned water from that land usually is potent.” The weaselfolk guard did not know Kerks very well. So all this was new to him. The Kerk responded specifically to Neah “I’d say it tasted normal almost, but as soon as it touched my tongue then it felt like I was chewing on something rotten! Poison I’d say is a higher level, but far from the highest I think.”

Neah huffed “Well, tell me next time before you do these things. We can do taste tests more carefully. I’d like to not return to the scribe hall by myself.” Neah felt worried, but Isaiah smiled back “The clan and this information is all that matters, Neah. You know that. Besides, pa would be proud if we both perish doing everything in our power to make sure every scrap of information is in the ancestor’s hands.” Neah could hardly forget and cringed, but ultimately nodded before returning to her duties. The two Fearum guards kept watch, almost amused as the two continued their experiments.

The sea water had acted strangely, as if the poison that was created was nullified instantly by the salt content. The milk became a strange, fluffy white substance which tasted strangely good if not far too sour for their tastes. The rum had dulled, and like the salt water, also became nullified at first. However, after a few minutes Isaiah felt sick again when he did his taste test and had to suddenly puke again. The two weaselfolk guards looked amazed, almost jaw dropping as the two scribes casually did all of this. Isaiah and his robes looked like a mess, before finally smiling widely when their last test was upon them.

Neah got up and went towards the forest as her companion drank water like a mad man while she collected samples. The leaves were always falling from above, landing and suddenly turning to dirt within minutes of reaching the ground. However, this was not so for leaves inside the forest. She took out a couple special vials the ancestor lich had given her, and scoped up some of the leaves and put it into the flask. The leaves looked like normal fall leaves, but she suspected that without a magical power keeping the aura of these leaves in their original color, they would turn to dirt within minutes. She was about to return to her companions until she looked up and some something curious amongst the bright colored woodlands.

It was a tangle of roots she had not noticed before, covering something like an egg. She heard some sudden and loud snaps as the wood began to slowly move. Her eyes went wide when she realized the roots were moving and she fell over backwards onto her tail as she backed away slowly.

The guards and Isaiah stopped what they had been doing, the guards quickly drawing weapons although not going towards the forest. The roots stopped as they revealed some manner of burrow beneath the trees which held a long dead corpse. It was a Beastfolk corpse, she knew that, but it was dry and mummified as it fell from the roots as if crushed beneath it. There was a silence as the cadaver fell into the leaves and disappeared below the surface as if it had been dropped into water. A moment later, in dramatic fashion, a Fearum bursted out of the leaves in sudden fashion.

Neah was taken aback by the sight, not to see some rotting corpse, but to see a strange Fearum dressed not in colors or garb she knew the Fearum behind her had been privy to. He wore loose and colorful clothes of orange and dark red, a flowing cape behind him with puffy and noble tunic hidden behind an ornate breastplate. The being head was adorned with a feathered and wide hat and on his belt, he wielded a beautiful sword which curved in a swivel. It twirled as if in a courtesy before giving a humble and dramatic bow.

“Hmmm, whom’st do I find wandering here today?” It asked as it lifted itself up to see two fearful Fearum guards shaking as they held out spears at him, a confused Kerk in a great purple robe, and a otterfolk in a same dress who edged herself away from him.

“Oh by the circle.” One of the guards exclaimed, although it would be the last words he would utter. The stranger flicked his wrist at him, and roots came up suddenly from the ground and wrapped around him. The Fearum screamed in horror as the roots quickly crushed him and with some nasty snaps of bone became silent and was pulled beneath the ground. “It’s a Prince! Run!” The other guards screamed at the two before throwing his spear down and running for his life. He did not get very far either, as the Prince spoke aloud as if in a mocking tone.

“Oh come young warrior, no need for cowardice, hmm? Wind, fetch him for me.” He proclaimed as a sudden and harsh gust of wind was felt from behind Neah as the guard who was running towards the fort was wrenched towards the Prince. He swaggered over to the guard and lifted his paw upward, and the Fearum guard was lifted into the air, screaming and weeping. Neah watched as he kept being lifted into the air, further and further up until he began to come downward and spattered on her tent with a sickening crunch. He Prince had kept up a smile as he approached Neah, but soon found Isaiah standing in his way. Neah’s heart pounded in terror, but for her Kerkian brother, the Kerk looked on without fear as much as anger as he drew his family’s favored weapon, a falchion, from beneath his robes and outstretched it at the Lich.

“We have no quarrel!” The Kerk exclaimed. Thoughts ran through Neah’s mind as she got up and spoke in a fearful tone “Isaiah, we need to get back to the fort.” She was begging her brother to let this murderous creature be, but the Prince stopped in his tracks and his smiled faded to a confused look. That confusion soon turned to a confident smirk.

“A Kerk, on this side of the forest? Now, that truly is a rare and discomforting sight. A scribe I take it for your cloth, I must ask before I do something you will so deeply regret, what brings you to the border of the Fall Father’s domain? Or well, my domain.”

“We are here for study, that is all.” Neah answered, and Isaiah nodded in agreement. The Prince began to circle the two, looking on at his handiwork on the two unfortunate guards the two had been accompanied by.

“My, my. Study is but a stone throw’s away from scouting. The Leadership must be surely desperate to seek Forestwatch’s aid.”

“We are not Illuminated, aye.” Isaiah responded. The Prince didn’t seem to be off guard, pretending to yawn before again conversing in a mockingly bored tone. “Oh? Truly? Ohh, I think I know now. You are one of the Gurchland clans, refugees I believe. The Great Horde I take it sent you?”

“No.”

“Hmph, maybe it was someone less important, perhaps some curious low-grade wretch—” The Prince was about to continue before Isaiah’s eyes lit up with fury and approached and swiped at the Prince, but his arm was caught by the eccentric creature who smiled gleefully at him “Touchy, and quite a good answer to my question. A lich of your own clan I take it?” The Prince threw Isaiah down and knocked him the ground as Neah came over. The Kerk was not deterred, as the Prince took out his blade and put it into the ground, leaning upon it.

Isaiah was forced to calm down as Neah held him and spoke in whispers to him “Isaiah, listen! He is trying to get you to act, he’s toying with you. Just try to be calm, and don’t listen to him! It’s like back in that village, with that bully, calm yourself. Please.” Isaiah breathed heavily as his hand twitched. Kerks like him knew they could not control their emotions very well, and such insults were to be taken as personal grudges. The two looked up at the Prince who seemed to stand there like a statue as Neah got in front of her brother “Please, we mean no harm, we are but scribes.”

“Oh, my dear, I am afraid we have so little time. The fort behind me will see what is going on, and it’s sentry will give warning, but anything Forestwatch allows is a threat to the Fall Father’s plan in some far flung way. I am afraid, you two will not be returning home anytime soon.” His eyes came upon Isaiah, whose anger returned. Ignoring Neah who tried to grab onto him, he knew what the Prince had met and rushed for his Falchion and charged the Prince again. Isaiah, perhaps not seeing things clearly, rushed straight into the open sword of the Prince whose blade pushed out his other side. Yet, Isaiah continued to push on despite the pain he felt. In a desperate move, he brought his own blade down on the Weaselfolk’s face and pushed it deep into his head, but a shiver of final horror came over him when this did not faze him. Neah held her mouth closed, pushing back tears as Isaiah’s body fell from the Prince’s sword. The falchion imbedded into the Weaselfolk’s face stuck out of him as the dark creature grabbed the handle and pulled it out of him in a casual movement, as if he had been inconvenienced more than anything else. He let the small blade tumble into the grass beneath him before turning his full attention to Neah. The Otterfolk attempted to escape, running as fast as she could in her dense purple robes up towards the fort whose alarm only then began to sound. Yet, hope was quickly lost when she felt something wrap around her legs and tail, pulling her towards the forest. Vines and branches wrapped around her painfully, as Neah screamed for help.

The Prince walked beside her as she was dragged into the forest further, the creature ever mocking and cruel.

“My little friend, you should be a bit more joyous. We are going back to my land, a land of paradise where the rot shall never end! Well, perhaps not so good for you, but do not worry. An Oturan of a pagan Kerkian family, and a well-read scribe at that. You will make a fine gift for my kin back in the homeland.” Neah was not listening, grabbing onto dirt as she was pulled into the leaves as the Prince disappeared beyond the woodland of orange hued and cursed bark. By the time the soldiers appeared at the border, they dared not pursue, with the captain of the fort hoping to the circle which ruled all things that Neah’s life would be at least mercifully short.
_________________
Darkness for a moment overtook Neah when she disappeared into the leaves of the cursed forest, but pain and a sudden hunger overtook her as her sight slowly returned. She awoke suddenly, and found it was nighttime and she was laid against a tree. She tried to struggle, only to find her paws were clasped with shackle, the same having been done to her feet. She began to panic and move about, especially when she noticed a bright flame not far off. She shifted about uncomfortably the jingle of chain was not the only thing which frightened her as much as knowing that as she moved, she felt dried leaves and heart their crunching all around.

She knew full well she was in the Autumn Reich.

Her struggling was not unnoticed before she heard a harsh word spoken from nearby. Two strangely dressed Fearum approached, dressed in armor more fit for far western men who began to yell at her. One of these weaselfolk approached, one in a bright orange gambeson. He had yelled at her as she struggled, coming over to begin kicking and punching her. She continued to resist as the other guard began to laugh, quite amused by the whole ordeal. Neah felt the gruff of her neck being hoisted up and found herself being dragged along again towards the campfire. Weak and hurting, she kept still as she was pushed towards a group of strangers gathered around the campfire, kept in the shadow of a large wagon. The wagon’s warg was resting nearby, but her eyes set upon another two Fearum who were being quite friendly with one another.

The Prince and a well-dressed and noble looking Fearum whose face looked sleek and chummy, although another beast was close to him and rested his back at the side of the wagon. Her attention came to the Prince who had a mug in his hands and came over with a wide smile and slapped Neah’s ears and shook her, speaking in some language.

Then, rather slowly, she began to understand them.

“Can you hear me, little creature? Hmmm? Ah, there we go, so much better!”

Neah pulled her head away and got a grip of the situation, looking around quite fearfully. The Prince came up to the other, richer beast, speaking with a friendliness which made her worried for the creature’s safety at first. However, it became quite clear, this beast was more genuinely the creature’s friend.

“You see, my dear descendent. Tis but the rarest and strangest gift I can give. A truly learned creature from the court of the fleeing Kycer, a time before the Kerks worshipped the pretty lights of candles and lanterns. Rayk! Get this creature up and into a comforting position! Tonight is yet another night to celebrate!”

The beast by the cart revealed himself, much to Neah’s surprise, a large and intimidating otterfolk like herself, although his fur was sleeker and gray. He came over, taking Neah and forcing her to sit near the edge of the campfire, his roughness made her dare not resist. He stood over her, folding his paws. He had a stranger garb than the Prince and his protégé, as Neah could see it as. His armor was light, he had no helm, but he did wear what looks to be the remains of noose wrapped tightly around his neck which dangled below him. His cloak was sharp and etched with finery, lined with gold with the symbol of two wolves circling a great tree. He did not look happy, and she could only imagine why. The Autumn Reich extended into the Couslandic marshes; her adoptive father once spoke of it.

“Oh, don’t be so rough on her Rayk, we haven’t even had our fun yet.” Neah’s attention turned with anger towards the creature who spoke, the younger and groomed noble who seemed to be enjoying the Prince’s company. Rayk spoke back with fair warning “My Prince, my lord. We should not dwell this close to the border. We should be done with whatever had come here to do.”

Neah was confused. ‘Come here to do? Do what?’ Her mind raced with possibilities, but the Prince grunted with amusement. “Do not worry, good knight. We are here because I know it is safe. Besides, as I told my kinsman, I had a gift I wanted to give him for his birth season. A gift of course I do hope he likes, right Ulrich?” The noble nodded and swaggered forward to Neah, picking up her chin and rather suddenly inserting his clawed thumb between her chief, wrenching her mouth around. She struggled, resisting the discomfort before snarling at him. He stepped away and smiled “A bit wild, for sure. I would have preferred one of those savages from the traitor tribes.”

“Sadly, such a thing is not possible I am afraid. For none are to even my liking.” The conversation made Neah’s stomach wrench as the two chuckled. She had known arrogance before, Ratik were known for it. To see it coming from these corrupt and vile weaselfolk made her full of worry and stress, but she dared not move. The Prince pinched his nose, and spoke in a mockingly sorrowful voice.

“Oh dear me, I nearly forgot. How can we call ourselves civilized without even introducing ourselves! My dear¬–“ He began as he came closer and gave a familiar humble bow as he took off his feathered hat before rising once again to speak with a circus authority, a showman giving her a spiel before the first act.

“I am Anduyiun Shetmeiser, Anduyiun the Golden, Anduyiun the Bulwark! I am a Prince of the Autumn Reich, the first and last of any good civilization in this wretched continent. A scion of the true Fearum, and beloved ancestor to my dear kinsmen. Such as my great, great, great, great, great, great grandson Ulrich Shetmeiser, heir to the currently small barony of Fuller’s Field. Which my dear boy will one day be greater than even the palaces of the mighty Fall Father! However, this will be something for the future. For now, my kinsmen will just have suffice with the meek offerings his Prince can provide.” There was almost a snicker, forced as it was, from the Prince’s mouth. Ulric smirked and folded his paws “I suppose, and I am truly grateful. Though, this thing remains still a bit too wild.”

The Prince nodded in agreement “Perhaps she will be less rebellious and more willing to listen after something fine to eat.”

Anduyiun went to the cart and pulled out from a sack an apple and came over. Neah was a bit hungry, but the reasoning for this rather sudden act of kindness became more apparent as the Prince laid the apple into her paws. In an instant, the apple became mushy and rotted away so suddenly, she dropped it in surprise. She looked up in anger at her tormenters who all except Rayk was snickering with amusement. “Oh dear, that might be a slight problem. I forget sometimes, wanderers need my blessing to even eat.”

Ulric snapped at Rayk, harshly make a demand of him “Go do something useful, grab one of the iron clasps from the cart.” Neah’s eyes widened in fear at those words, and wordlessly the otterfolk knight went to do his task. Ulric and the Prince came forward, the two looking down at her with a dark intent. Neah finally spoke up, angry as she was, and upset enough to beg the two to stop. “Please, I beg of you, me and Isaiah, we were scribes! From Gurchland! We meant no ha–“ Neah felt a harsh slap across the face from Ulric as she sniffed and slowly began to cry, again begging despite the bleeding from her face “We aren’t you blasted enemies! Please, I am useless to you!”

“No beast is truly useless.” Anduyiun replied with a sly tone “Just because you view yourself as such doesn’t mean we cannot find some manner of entertainment. You are not the first wandering beast to come near the forest. Sometimes its escaped slaves, sometimes it is orcish scouts. Even had a few goblins wander down from the mountain. The traitor Fearum, now they are our most entertaining prize, but you my dear? You are a rarity, and you should be quite proud of it.”

Neah then saw Rayk approach with what she feared the most, an iron grasping collar. They were of the Ratik design, they did not fit fully around the neck, leaving a small opening at the throat. Yet, once the collar was slapped on, it was meant to be permanent. She remembered wearing a smaller one, it was heavy and miserable to wear, and now it was coming for her neck again. Her fear got the Prince’s attention, tormenting her further “Ah, you must have been in such an iron grasp yourself at one point to have such an fearing eye upon it. Do not worry, my dear. This one isn’t coming off.”

“I refuse!” She blurted out, angry and afraid “Just kill me then! I won’t return to that, just kill me as you killed my brother! No!” The panic in her voice softened into a paralyzing fear when the smiling face of the Prince began to bend his knees down to her level, his cold and uncanny face retained it’s smirking smile, unmoving as it was. When he spoke, she swore his mouth was not even moving, making her more terrified.

“Oh, if I had to kill you, my dear, it wouldn’t be as quick as the Kerk’s. You will come with us regardless, but you’ll die by not my paw. By the Fall Father’s unintended paw. It’ll begin with stomach pains, a weakness, and then as desperation. You’ll perish, perhaps in your sleep as drop you off at some farmstead on our way back home. Yet, that is only the beginning of our adventure, my dear. You see, I’ll return to find you, and I’ll raise your corpse to be the servant you were going to be meant to be already, although ten times more obedient and unable to protest. You’ll be a puppet upon invisible strings, and when or if we get bored of you, I’ll probably just ask your rotting remainder to go to some crypt to await my arrival so we may journey together. In that darkness, waiting for me and some future kin, you’ll reflect to this moment and wonder one simple thing. Was it worth it?”

Neah’s lips trembled in terror of him, the ever-smiling horror before her she knew meant his words. She knew about necromancery enough for her to fear what he said. To think herself trapped, still feeling every invisible pain as a prisoner trapped in her own body mortified her. She looked at her tormenter, and knew no matter what she said, she would again be in someone else’s thrall. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down and spoke in a defeated tone.

“I–“ She tried to begin, but her voice failed partly. She began again “I’ll serve, my lord.” She sniffed. The Prince arose and his smile grew wider “See, such things are much easier this way. Not that anything else can be expected of such meek and weak peoples.” She didn’t react to the comment, her eyes becoming waterfalls as she heard Rayk behind her. It was swift and painless, but she could feel the cold metal wrap around her neck and with a loud snap the collar was put into place. She wept in defeat as her tormenter had one final show to break her down.

“I say we have a drink to celebrate another fine trophy coming into the care of my good kinsman! A cheer for the Shetmiesers, and a cheer for the Reich!” The Fearum around her lifted bottles and jugs, but the mug which Anduyiun raised up went far past his face. The Fearum’s face began to melt away within the blink of an eye, revealing what he truly was beneath. A mummified and moving corpse, skeletal as it was, with a huge gash at the side of his face where Isaiah had struck. The Prince poured what remained of his contents into that hole, which flowed down into his decayed clothes. Anger came over her, and a fury of a brother lost shadowed her sorrow. Yet, she kneeled, doing nothing, too afraid and tired to do nothing but watch as her tormenters were in the throes of victory.
_________________
It was the early afternoon as the group was moving along the barely visible path obscured by the vast quantities of dry and colorful leaves. Neah kept her head down, walking close to the wagon being pulled by a warg and two of the soldiers behind her. The Prince and Ulric were at the far front, talking casually and with friendly abandon. Rayk was beside her, effectively her watcher. She was no longer in her purple robes of a scribe, feeling almost demonstrably humiliated as those robes were now held in her paws folded up. She now wore an orange tunic and a commoner’s pants, and although the Fearum had removed the shackles from her arms, they had decided to keep it so on her legs. Yet, the iron clasp around her neck was oppressive as she remembered it, and she did not get much sleep let alone eat very much when she awoke.

The group was traveling as she turned to Rayk who didn’t seem all that bothered. She looked him up and down, and he seemed to take notice.

“Yes?”

Neah blinked and didn’t answer and instead looked down at the ground again. There was a grunt from the companion next to her, as thoughts raced in her head. She felt powerless as much as she felt anger. She turned her attention to Rayk again, trying to figure him out. Was he an ally? An enemy? He had not joined the others in tormenting her, but she wasn’t sure he would be kindred spirit. In fact, she was kind of furious at him, it was his paw after all that brought the terrible cursed shackle about her neck. He cringed and slowly began to look at her with annoyance.

“Are you going to stare at me the entire way, or are you going to say something?” He asked. His voice was silent, and Neah took the hint and spoke lowly although she sneered angrily at him.

“No need to be troubled by me. Not like I wanted to be here to start with.”

“Well if that were true, you’d have stayed wherever you came from.” Rayk scoffed. The two kept silent for a bit as they traveled on. The trees were not as thick as she imagined them to be in this mainland country, it was even a bit flatter than she envisioned the realm of the Autumn Reich to be as. She looked about, not able to admire the strangeness or uniqueness of this blighted land, for all the terrible things she had faced since coming here. Her eyes turned to a passing village, noticing fences simple homes beyond. They were not like the Fearum homes she had seen during her travels in Forestwatch, they were bigger with straw roofs. The structures look almost Kerkian, although even that was a ‘eh’ at best. She wanted to describe it as perhaps human, but the only clue to that were descriptions of Curdan cities during her studies on western history. Neah saw farmers scurrying about, harvesting produce which she found kind of strange and instinctively had to ask about it.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be harvesting? It’s still summer.”

“Hmm?” Rayk gave her a curious and confused look, and she tried to explain. “I mean, the farmers over there, aren’t they harvesting a bit too early?”

“I wouldn’t know. I am not a farmer.”

Rayk had not known it, but he was in for a trouble he had no preparation for. Neah spoke in length, partly to ask questions and partly to keep her own sanity. “I mean, this is a land of eternal fall, right? How do you folk grow things in that kind of environment?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, that must cause all manner of troubles, like a dietary problem. I had read of a dietary crisis in the campaign of Parius, a Rosari lieutenant from the Imperial War of Religion. He said that a lack of meat caused a sickness amongst his soldiers, so do the folk here have a sickness as well because of a lack of meat?”

“What? No. I don’t know.”

“I mean, then how do they feed animals then and–“

Rayk shushed her and nudged her a bit harshly, giving a sharp pain to her shoulder. She thought he was trying to shut her up, but he was looking ahead. She looked as well, seeing Ulric had looked behind them to see what the commotion was. He returned his gaze to the front as Rayk whispered back to Neah is a harsh term “I don’t know and I don’t care. Just do as they say and it’ll all be fine.”

“How can you say that.” Neah scolded him. “That monster up there murdered my brother and now is taking me as some slave to gods know where.”

“You aren’t special in that case.” Rayk coldly replied. Neah had a realization when he said this. The Fearum were not known to go outside their borders, so it was strange a Prince of the Reich would take such sudden interest in a small camp on the border of it. The Fearum after all didn’t need much in terms of forts and defenses, they had a magical forest which made logistics an impossibility. Yet, as she thought of it, she couldn’t help but begin to ask. “I mean, what specific way?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Rayk rolled his eyes at first, but a firm “Yes, actually.” Got his annoyed attention. He grunted at her “What is your deal!? Do you need to know everything?”

Neah looked at him sadly as she held her old clothes close to her, having to realize this beast likely did not understand. She did, in fact, had to know everything. It was her profession she had gone to fulfill for her adopted clan. “Apologies, erm, Ryem.”

“Rayk.” Rayk corrected

“Rayk. I am sorry. Force of habit I suppose.”

“Well remove it then.” The otter said annoyed. Neah looked him over again, and Rayk was again very quick to notice. He stared at her with intimidation, hoping she would just leave him alone for the remainder of the trip. Yet she asked a question she had been meaning to ask since she saw him “That noose on your neck. What exactly is it?”

“A noose.”

“But, why though?”

Rayk sighed “For a very stupid mistake I did years ago.”

“Well, what was it? Your well-armed, and you are otterfolk like me. Yet you wear that as I wear this.” She gripped the iron collar on her neck. Rayk frowned, but he sighed and spoke in a low tone “If I explain it to you, can you promise me not to speak till we get to the castle?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t make that kind of promise.”

“What. Why.”

“Well, as my father told me. Promises are binding like contracts or curses; I can’t make a promise based on vague words. It must be specific.”

Rayk blinked and pursed his lips before speaking a new deal to her “Okay. If I tell you, can you be silent for five minutes till we reach the castle?”

“Which cas–“

“Are you doing this on purpose!?”

“I mean, no. I know what you are saying, I just can’t make that kind of deal. It has to be specific, ya know.”

“No. I don’t know.” Rayk grew more frustrated “Fine. If it will get you to be silent for five minutes while on this road going to our next destination.” Rayk gave a sigh and spoke a question of his own “Please, I’d rather not see something terrible as we reach there, don’t do whatever you are doing now to Ulric or around his family. They aren’t as tolerating as I am.”

“I can, ummm, try.” Neah sighed. Rayk looked forward to make sure his master was not looking behind him before speaking to her, explaining the mystery to the noose around his neck.

“I was born east of here, in the marshes. My father was a fisher, my mother a cook to a garrison of soldiers. Mother didn’t cook the way one of the soldiers liked, so they beat her till she no longer had a nose. I was angry, so I found the soldier and beat on him, and overpowered him. Others forced me off him, and they dragged me to the magistrate. Normally, a lash or two is the punishment for beating on a soldier. Problem was, I didn’t account for my status in the Reich. My parents had iron clasped about their necks, and so did I. The Higvar overseeing my trial called for my execution. On the day I was to be hanged, we were visited by a Prince of the empire, I don’t remember who. It’s the one who rules my homeland is all I know. As I was choking and the rope cutting into my ears and neck, he had me cut down when he offered me to join the Knights of the Noose after hearing I beat a soldier quiet badly. So, now I am that.”

“So are you an actual knight, or a slave?” Neah asked naively. Rayk shrugged “I suppose both. My order’s barracks reminded me of my parent’s former barracks, although the beds were bigger. I trained in a courtyard and lived there till my order got a commission for a bodyguard for him.” Rayk motioned to Ulric ahead of them “Now, I am here.”

Neah blinked and was about to ask another question, but Rayk stopped her by putting his paw to her mouth “I answered one question, you were lucky I got two. Now be silent. We will get there faster if those two don’t notice you. You’ll be blessed they forget you even exist.”

Niah remained silent, the group continued as she slowed and looked up into the sky as she saw a huge shadowy patch ahead of them. Far up into the sky was a massive branch, bigger and higher up than any tree she had ever seen. It was massive, its branches reaching far up into the sky as if it were some far off mountain. Her jaw dropped, and Rayk could tell she was going to ask all manner of questions about that as well. He sighed and nudged her along as the group continued onward. Soon, after much of the day marching, the sight of a great cliffside castle came into sight.
_________________
The castle Neah was beholding was much larger than she expected. It was massive in scale, almost too large in some cases. The castle sat on top of a large, steep hill which overlooked a village beneath it. Yet, from the way the group was coming in, they approached a large wall and gate on top of a cliff overlooking a people below them. A small stone walls, littered with autumn leaves had the occasional guard upon it, who overlooked an upward canyon in the village side of the castle which acted as a ‘main gate’. As the iron doors opened for the coming group, guards of the Reich parted way and even bowed to the Prince and his noble scion, who were welcomed as they came into sight. Neah’s heart dropped just as the gates closed behind her, further entrenching her imprisonment.

The courtyard of this castle had a strange feel to it, as if she were walking into an ancient and hollow ruin of sorts. The fall leaves continued to pour down in small stride all about her, and the continued boots crunching the autumn debris remained in the same tune within the castle as it was outside of it. Neah felt uneasy, even intentionally getting close to the only somewhat friendly face in this land, although Rayk didn’t seem to be as helpful as he nudged her to continue marching on. The Prince stopped and gave a dramatic smelling of the air in the mockery of life itself, the undead creature outstretching his arms and shouldering his cape.

“A warm and fine day! A good day to return to the seat of future empires.” Neah mentally scoffed at this, keeping her words to herself. The castle came into view itself, a palace of stone which arose out of a cliffside hill, surrounded by walls. It looked astonishing to Neah, it was Curdan in style, she could recognize the stone turrets which acted as the corners of the noble’s home. Yet, the domed roof was certainly different, and the orange paint upon wood was somewhat predictable for a national color. Yet, the design was still Curdan, even though the race of men was on the opposite side of Kevica.

She wanted to ask ‘why’ and ‘how’. Yet, as she was pushed further towards this castle, she was snapped back to the reality she found herself in.

Passing down into the main hall leading towards the court, Neah was at long last relieved to feel soft and warm carpet beneath her feet rather than the crunching of leaves. As the cart was abandoned outside, the guards and retinue of the Prince pushed on into the halls, as Neah looked behind her to see the castle’s doors closing. She looked around at the hall, its metal candle holders, the etched and gray stone, and the paintings. It was the painting which at first drew her eye, soft and delicate things full of excessive realism. Neah felt almost uncomfortable looking at them, knowing full well they removed the blemishes and uglier features, but to see these as Weaselfolk somewhat amazed her. To the Kerks, such paintings looked ugly, even though she kinda liked the careful strokes. Her mind wandered again, but her attention turned downwards towards the other unfortunates of the castle.

Staring back at her is a Beastfolk of similar age to herself, but it was a hedgehog. He had a slightly bent back, with spikes reaching across much of his back which were exposed. His clothes were simple and tied across his waste and neck, with only his pants being somewhat normal. She had heard of the Higvar but had never seen one before. They were a people of the Autumn Reich, a race given unto the ancient Fearum to exploit. Around the Higvar’s neck was an iron clasp much like her own, but his was clearly much thicker and dug into his neck where spikes had used to be. He was carrying a mop and wooden bucket, cleaning as apart of a crew of others which included two other Weaselfolk of similar wear. They were both female, and both had the iron clasps about their necks as well, but Neah could only guess why.

The group made quite an entrance into the main and wide court, dimly lit and somewhat empty. There were not many in terms of courtiers, the windows were high up, and the distance between the dim sources of light gave a more depressing tone. The Prince made himself at home, guiding himself to a figure who arose to greet him from his throne, a Weaselfolk garbed in a lesser noble’s dress, whose diadem was faded, and whom didn’t look very happy as much as frustrated.

“Baron Albrich, my dearest kinsman. I have gre–“ began the Prince, but the lord held up his paw, as if expecting this. He looked at Neah as she was brought forward by the guards towards the middle of the court. The Prince raised an eyebrow to Albrich, who pointed to Neah. “This is the reason you left on one your escapades? Anduyiun, my ancestor and chief. I had implored you not to do this again, did you think me joking when I said no more ‘gifts’?”

“Oh, but you misunderstand. This one isn’t for you, it is for your dear boy and heir.” The Prince’s smile never faded even when chastised. Ulrich swaggered on over, dismissing the guards who had kept close to Neah. The Weaselfolk snapped the purple robes from Neah’s arms, presenting it to his father. “A prize, to be certain, father. An educated one I believe at that, our ancestor truly is a bringer of gif–“

Yet, Neah saw something different from the noble, and came down, his mouth dropping and looked at Neah with mortal fear. He grew angry, his dark gaze returning to his son who stormed up to him “Are you a fool or an idiot!” He yelled. The court gave a stunned silence as Albrich marched up and practically tore the scribe’s robes from his paws, looking a little shocked.

“Do you know what this is!?”

“Yes, father. It was this beas–“ Ulrich got a harsh paw slapped across his face, claws digging in as he staggered back in shock.

“This is Kerkian garb, you fools! Do you know what you have done!? The Kerks would go to war for just one of their own, and you stole one of their scribes, clasped an iron about its neck, and dare bring it to my doorstep!? The Kerks wouldn’t care a damn bit if they sent a hundred thousand or two hundred thousand screaming, mad creature across the border to punish us! The Fall Father himself demanded of us all to return those we stole! Have any you no shame or thought? You brought a reason for the Kerks to go to war with us if they ever find out!”

Anduyiun raised his paw and Albrich somewhat calmed as he listened to the dark creature speak. His voice was quite soft as Neah already knew what he was likely going to say.

“It is true, my dear descendant. This creature is a scribe, but from the wrong tribe you may think of. This creature swears to pagan gods, the old Kerkian faith. In fact, why don’t you tell us where you are from.”

Neah gulped as the others looked at her, looking small as Albrich didn’t seem to calm. When Neah did not answer, the Prince stepped closer menacingly before speaking. “Gurchland. Gurchland, my lord.”

“Gurchland.” Albrich thought it over, his thoughts racing as he spoke his own question. “You. Your name.”

“Neah. Neah Tendrov.”

“Tendrov.” Albrich’s anger returned as he gripped his head and muttered to himself, going back to his throne, throwing the robes to the ground. Neah went over and picked them up, watching as the baron sat down and motioned the Prince and his son to come forward. Neah could not pick up fully what they were saying, but they were loud enough to pick up on some of their harsh words spoken between each other.

“The fact you two attacked scribes is bad enough, Illuminated or not. I told you two, these little raids into the north is not sanctioned by the Fall Father, and he warned me already. Now, you bring further trouble here.”

“If you wish father, I could dispose of it if it bothers you so much.”

“A bit late for that, the action is what mattered. However, you are right, since you and your others ‘gifts’ seem to bore you, I will be taking this one as well.”

“Father, this is a gift from my ancestor to me, I don’t think you have the right–“

“Okay, then I will make this simple for you. If you do not allow this, I will disinherit you and give the title to whatever bastard your mother is currently raising, and then it can be your choice. I already had been thin with these foolish escapades and excesses, now I am going to put a stop to it. My ancestor, please, for the love your family. Remain at some post, and no more of these trips. Not till I pass at least.”

“As you wish, my descendent.”

The two left and Albrich continued to sit on his throne. Rayk came up to him, and he scowled at him harshly as he bowed his head. “You and your bleeding order. I tell you to do one thing and you do the opposite. Did I not order you to keep Ulrich out of these little ‘adventures’ with him?”

“I couldn’t stop him, my lord.” Rayk’s paws retreated behind his cloak and slavishly looked down, the noose lightly outstretched. Albrich pinched his nose and growled “Get out, and I do not wish to see you again till tomorrow where we will discuss what you can and cannot do.” Rayk did as bidded and went away. Neah felt a pinch of sorrow for this, because her fellow Otterfolk was right, what exactly could he do? She remembered Isaiah stabbing the Prince in his face, and it had not phased him. Neah felt a cold grip of armor on her soldiers as one of the guards did a silent bidding of his lord, forcing Neah down a corridor. She found herself going down and down into darkness.
_________________
(Continued in the document)