The Ever Lord: War Comes to the Farm
Mura adjusted her grip on her rifle.
She was one of four in her family who had taken to the art, the rest had made do with bows, swords, and spears. Even accounting for her natural talent, she had wished she had been given more opportunity to practice; but they had limited ammunition and getting more was both complicated and dangerous.
Mura’s eyes narrowed as she saw the marching soldiers break over the distant hill, pushing against the windstorm. She fought the urge to press herself down behind the barn rooftop where she lay; hiding would do no good now, and she needed to watch them approach.
Five years. Five years of banditry, as a family outside the Empire. Five years since they had killed a Knight of House Noonan, and was cast out of the Empire as heretics and bandits. Five years of waiting for the day when the Baroner’s soldiers would march down the road with weapons gleaming and deadly to either kill or imprison them all.
Five years of silence.
It was a bitter irony; Ashtree becoming a Bandit House had likely saved the other farms: the Baroner had decided, instead of sending an army to reclaim his farmland, to punish the House of Ashtree by making their anger unwarranted. His stores had opened and meager amounts of food and aid had trickled to the other filial Houses, keeping them alive, if not comfortable, through the winter. Bands of the Baroner’s soldiers stood guard at the other farms, ensuring what few stores they had were well protected from Ashtree’s hungry bellies and eager hands.
The first winter had been the worst. They had managed to survive largely through secret trades with the Guild, as well as a local Labinda tribe who was willing to give meat and foraged roots for woven cloth and metal tools.
The Labinda were a strange people, half again as tall as the tallest of Mura’s family, and lanky with lean bird-like heads. Their scaly bodies sent chills down Mura’s spine whenever she saw them, but they were expert hunters and knew how to survive the harsh weather of the Fourth World.
The worst part had been the traveling. The whole of the Noonan Barony was closed to them, so they had needed to travel much farther to reach friendly towns and villages. Few had not heard of Ashtree’s rebellion, but fewer still were willing to turn away much needed supplies and a fair trade.
The Guild had helped out immeasurably, here. Their brothers and sisters were always nearby, ready to take whatever Ashtree was able to give in return for providing much of what they needed.
One of the first gifts from the Guild had been three rifles and a box of ammunition, just in case. Fortunately, the Baroner had mostly ignored them.
Then, everything went wrong.
Mura shifted her aim and bent her head down to sight along her rifle. She could see the individual soldiers, now. Their weaponry glinted in the dim light. They marched in a perfect line, their armor shined to a mirror polish. The air around them shimmered slightly, like steam on a hot day. Their livery shone like firelight, bearing the mark of House Li-Schan.
Heim had arrived two days ago, panic in his eyes. He brought news of a mighty Velvet-ship that had landed at the nearby Port-city. Inside was A Grand Duke of House Li-Schan, come with a full Echelon of the Imperial Honor. He had sent two Arms of soldiers to the Barony of Noonan, all armed with the blessed weapons of the Ever Lord Himself. It was clear that the Ever Lord had taken notice of their banditry and had chosen to end it once and for all.
The local Labinda, who had promised to aid House Ashtree should it come to war, had withdrawn their promises and withdrawn into the shadows of the Noonan Barony. Mura didn’t blame them; no one had expected the Baroner would receive reinforcements of such scope and power. Fighting the Baroner’s tiny army was one thing. Fighting even a single Arm of the Imperial Honor…that was entirely another, and the Labinda people, fierce fighters though they were, were not fools.
House Ashtree’s only hope was the storm. It had come suddenly the day before, and steadily grown in strength. The people of Ashtree knew how to move in the heavy winds, and with luck the Imperial Honor would find themselves confused and disoriented. It was a foolish hope, but the only one they had.
They weren’t ready.
They had bows and arrows, a few rifles, and the flimsy wooden walls that were less fortifications than they were fences. Mura spared a glance towards the longhouse’s roof where her mother raised her own rifle. Further away from the gate, one of her uncles held the third. It could have been enough against the Baroner’s army, a mere two or three squads of half-trained soldiers; barely a full Arm.
These were soldiers of House Li-Schan, part of the Imperial Honor. Two Arms — forty or fifty soldiers — of well trained and equipped soldiers, each wielding the Ever Lord’s blessed light.
With the sudden fury and certainty of panic, Mura pushed her recumbent body back across the roof, and kicked with her right leg at the ladder. It tipped and rocked for a moment before a second kick sent it tumbling to the ground. There. Now it didn’t matter if she was afraid or had doubts. It didn’t matter that her faith in her Ever Lord was being tested by His own Imperial army. The images of her family lying bloodied and dying on their own ground didn’t mean anything. She didn’t have to torment herself with questions and choices about what was right and what was virtuous. She couldn’t run, she’d have to fight.
Mura had just returned to her vantage point when a commotion at the front gate drew her attention. What was he doing? Oklan had mounted one of the horses and was riding out alone to meet the army, his hands raised in a sign of peace. Mura cursed her beloved uncle under her breath. Did he honestly think he could turn the tide now? Were words anything but useless at this point?
Her thoughts rang in her ears for a moment before she gently lay down her rifle and clasped her hands together in prayer. She had prayed every day for her whole life. Even now, seeing the soldiers of her Ever Lord marching to kill her, she could not let go of the idea that her Ever Lord knew of her family’s plight, and would not allow for more needless deaths.
Now, she prayed with her eyes open, witnessing her uncle’s foolishness.
But he was always true.
The thought popped unbidden into her mind. Foolish he may have been, but he always seemed to know what was right. As she watched, she saw a mounted soldier break from the line and ride to meet her uncle. They spoke, gesturing both at the farm and back the way the army had come. Terms of surrender, no doubt, and a promise of crushing defeat if the terms were not met. Oklan would offer himself, and the army of Li-Schan would take him away to be executed for his crimes. The only question was whether the rest of the House’s punishment would be imprisonment or death.
After what felt like hours, Oklan turned about and rode back to the farm. He was shouting to the other adults who stood at the gate before he reached them, while the army continued marching, getting steadily closer, struggling to remain steady in the fierce storm. She could see now that none of them were wearing goggles, vital storm wear for the Fourth World. They would need to squint to see anything in the strong winds. Would it be enough to give House Ashtree an edge, if it came to fighting?
The adults were arguing now, Mura could hear their raised voices, carried to her ears on the winds. She couldn’t hear their words, but their passion was unmistakable. Oklan was shrugging, holding up his hands in placation, and pointing back at the still approaching soldiers.
Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder shook the air.
For a moment, Mura was confused; the wind was strong, but there had been no signs of rain or lightning in the sky. It wasn’t until she saw the advancing army stop and lower their weapons that she understood. A quick glance to the side confirmed her suspicions; a small plume of smoke was tearing away in the wind from where her uncle knelt. Whether out of panic or anger, he had fired on the approaching soldiers.
A cascade of cries came up from the gate as her family scattered. The soldiers were clearly surprised at the sudden attack, but none of them appeared harmed. Another clap echoed between the farm buildings. Now Mura could see the soldiers in front lift a hand to their chests. There was a flash of golden metal, then a shimmer of light as the air rippled like water.
Now their other hands moved, bringing their short spears to bear. Lightning burst from the tips and lanced across the sky. There were more cries, more shouting, more claps of thunder.
Mura had never seen the Blessed Weapons of the Imperial Honor. They were ancient and holy artifacts dating back to the founding of the Empire of Ever and Always. They were relics of supreme divinity. It was as if the lightning storms had descended and now walked as soldiers towards her family’s farm. The very air rose to their defense, turning arrows and rife-shot aside. These soldiers were not mortal beings but instruments of divine will.
It was hopeless. Mura knew it was hopeless. The Blessed Arms of the Ever Lord could not be stopped. She watched as her family’s attacks failed to find purchase in a single soldier. She saw bursts of blue fire as lightning flew across the farm.
She felt the rifle in her hand. Would she dare? Could she? Her whole life she had worshiped her Ever Lord as a symbol of true justice and virtue. Now, doubt crashed like a wave in Mura’s heart. How could it be? Had the Ashtree farm not escaped from House Noonan, they would have starved to death in the cold and barren winter, as would the other farms. The Baroner was a coward and a crook. Their Ever Lord couldn’t have sent his Blessed armory to support such a sinner’s will, and yet He had. Was her family so wrong? Had their betrayal of House Noonan been so great a sin, greater even than commanding your subjects to starve?
Mura looked to her mother on the Longhouse roof. Smoke struggled to blanket her before it too was ripped away in the winds. Mura watched as her mother pulled at her rifle and fired again. And again. The hiss of light came again. Cries and shouts from her family. They were fighting her family.
So be it.
With one swift movement, Mura brought the rifle to her eye and squeezed the trigger. The thunder was louder than any she had ever heard. The rifle-shot flew through the air, only to shatter against the hardened air of the soldier’s shields. It didn’t matter. What mattered more was that she continued to fight. She was not about to let such brutes as these slaughter her family without resistance. Working the rifle and loading more shot, she fired again.
The roof in front of her exploded in burning blue. Pissblood! Jerking back from the sudden flame, Mura rolled towards the rear edge of the roof, clutching her rifle to her chest. She stopped only inches away from the roof’s edge, and the long fall to the ground below. She looked up, watching the flame as the winds clawed at the fire, pulling at the fire until it went out, leaving only a large black spray of charcoal.
Heedless of the danger, she crawled forward again, sighting along her rifle towards the phalanx of soldiers. She only had twenty more shots, she needed to make them count. She watched as the soldiers marched with hands on their chests, the golden gauntlets flickering under the rippling air.
Were they smiling? Laughing? She felt her fury build as the soldiers mouths moved with condescending ease. She watched as one glanced back, away from the battlefield to throw a joyful laugh to another soldier. The hand lowered as the spear began to raise…
She pulled the trigger. Her vision was filled with white smoke for only a second before the wind swept it away, and she saw the phalanx of soldiers…halted! Her target had staggered, clutching at his chest like he had been stabbed. She watched as the soldier pulled his hand away…no blood. The shields of air were not their only protection.
But she had hurt him! Working the rifle, she aimed at another soldier who was focused on the first and fired again. She saw her head snap back as if she had been punched. She staggered too before righting herself, shouting something at her fellows.
There was no smiling now, no more laughter. the grim looks of determination on their faces was equal to their ferocity. They didn’t let their hands drop, even for a second. It was the soldiers of the second line who lowered their spears and sent blue fire across the farm, burning buildings and fields alike.
Mura fired again and again, running through all her shot as the soldiers reached the gate. They ignored every shot as well as every arrow. They met her family’s spears with gauntleted fist and impenetrable armor.
It was over in moments.
Mura would not feel shame; she refused. She did not feel ashamed while she waited for the soldiers to replace the ladder so she could climb down. She did not feel shame at the soldiers’ bemused kindness, like parents collecting their children for a scolding.
She didn’t feel shame at seeing how the soldiers showed no wounds. The ones that had been struck with spears, fists, or Mura’s rifle-shot did not even look bruised.
She did not feel shame at seeing her family beaten and kneeling in rows in the middle of their farm; they were all alive, and they had stood up to the sinful will of their wicked liege.
She had no more doubt. The Ever Lord was pure in His virtues; he could not sin. If sinning was to be done, it was done by the citizens of the Ever Empire. Even those chosen by the Ever Lord were imperfect reflections of his true virtue. They could err.
If a Baroner could turn from the Ever Lord’s path, so too could a Count. So could a Marq or Graf. Even a Duke could fail to meet the Ever Lord’s will. These soldiers, dressed in the livery of House Li-Schan, one of the Twenty Great Houses, were doing their duty, as House Ashtree had done, as all the Houses of the Barony of Noonan had done. If their liege were no more fit than the Baroner, then they too were inadvertent tools of the Deceiver.
Perhaps she could err too, but she would not put herself above the Ever Lord to know if she had. The Ever Lord would not accept her family’s suffering. She knew this like she knew the winds of the Fourth World.
They sat there, kneeling in the dirt for what felt like hours, heads bowed to stare at the land that they had called their own. They waited, stealing glances at their captors and their impassive faces, their glittering gold armor.
At last, Mura heard the sound of approaching horses. She looked up to see a man dressed in resplendent green. He lifted the metal helmet from his brow and looked over his gathered captives, his eyes watering in the wind. “Who speaks for your Family?”
Mura’s mother spoke first. “We speak for ourselves. Our House has no heralds or diplomats.”
“Your House?” the man smiled. “Of course, I see. Then you shall listen. I am Knight-Dominant Esvan Li-Schan. I am here on command of the Grand Duchen and Warlord Karn Li-Schan. By his command and the command of the Ever Lord, you are hereby claimed into our custody. You are to be taken to the Velvet-Ship Blessed Jewel of Li-Schan, where your family will be taken to the First World and the Ever Palace. There, you will be brought before the judgment of the Ever Lord and pay for your crimes against the Empire.”
“What crimes are those?”
The winds cried as Mura felt the gazes of her family settle on her shoulders. She hadn’t meant to speak, but the words had burst from her chest as loud as a rifle.
“Who spoke?” the green man’s squinting eyes flit about the gathering, stopping when they met Mura’s raised gaze.
“Protecting our food?” Mura couldn’t stop herself. “Defending our family from bandits? Serving the other families of the Barony of Noonan? What crime did we commit that warrants the Imperial Honor descending upon us so?”
“Do not compound your sins,” Sir Li-Schan grimaced. “The death of a Knight of House Noonan is bad enough without claiming ignorance.”
“We have not killed any of the Baroner’s Knights,” Mura shouted.
Now there was confusion. The man in green glanced back at his assembled soldiers, none of whom gave any sign of understanding. Mura’s mother and father hissed and whispered at Mura, begging her to stay silent. The rest of her family muttered in confusion.
“Cowardice,” the Knight-Dominant shook his head, “to lie so brazenly in the hopes of mercy.”
“I seek no mercy,” Mura spat. “I wielded the rifle that struck your soldiers. I raised arms against the army of a Warlord of Li-Schan. I will not hide from my actions, nor hide the sins of another, but I tell you truth when I say not one of us has killed a Knight of House Noonan.”
A moment later and Sir Li-Schan had dismounted from his horse. He walked through the gathered family and stood over Mura’s kneeling form. She craned her neck upwards, ignoring the pain to look the man in the eye.
“Remove your goggles,” he commanded. “I would look you in the eyes.” Mura did so, blinking in the strong wind. “You deny the death of Captain Denarca by one of your family, killed by a spear through the chest?”
“I know not his name,” Mura was shocked at herself, how quickly the worlds had formed in her mind. “We killed a bandit who had come pretending to be a Knight of Noonan, making immoral and sinful demands before he set the Ever Lord’s own tithe alight with flame.”
Sir Li-Schan opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “Burned the tithe of the Ever Lord? Perhaps you mean he burned an illegal horde of food, kept from the Baroner’s eye and rightful claim.”
“We deny this charge,” Mura continued. “I beg you, Sir Li-Schan, just and noble Knight-Dominant of House Li-Schan. You say that we have committed heresy, that we are sinful in the eyes of our Ever Lord. If we may sin while others do not, so too might others sin while we remain blameless.”
The man looked her up and down as she spoke. When she finished, he waved his hand dismissively. “What would you have me do? Return to my liege and say a young woman denied the charges of her Baroner, and so I left a Houseless family to continue its banditry? That we were fired upon and yet claimed no prisoners? My duty is to bring you to our ship, and that is what I shall do.” He paused for a heartbeat before waving an arm to encompass his gathered soldiers. “Come, round them up and tie them off. I’m done with this stormy land, and with His blessing we’ll not be back again.”