Chương 163: The Ceremony

I dragged the Seerserver's body out of the cellar, waited for another gust of wind, then dragged it toward the river. Navigating through the shadows, I kept out of the guards' sight until I reached the shore, then pushed the body in. It floated away without a splash. Then I repeated the process with the guard I'd killed. Still, no one had raised the alarm. Perhaps someone would notice the two were missing. Certainly, someone would. But I'd left no sign of a struggle, and I only had to last twelve hours.

I returned to the barracks to sleep, but I didn't sleep. My squad was all getting ready, though I stayed deathly silent. There was no need to burden the rest of them with what I'd just seen. I was expecting some kind of overnight assassinatin attempt, and we maintained our usual safety protocols—one of us keeping watch at all times—but nothing came. Even when it wasn't my turn to keep watch, I stayed awake. I didn't even hear boots clomping outside our room. What was Tunmod thinking?

Was he trying to space out the attempts on my life so they would actually seem like bandit attacks? Was he so used to dealing with people who bent over backward for him that he didn't actually know how to make something look convincing? Or was he just used to having so much power that he didn't have to try to make it convincing? Whatever it was, I got out of bed early the next morning, still wearing my armour, ready to enact the final stage of my plan. My eyes were heavy, but my limbs itched.

My fingers twitched on my spear, ready to use it. I splashed cold water in my face and concentrated my Focus, preparing myself. As the others gathered their weapons and packed their bags, I told them, "Tunmod has to know something is up. Same with Jaruwain. I'd expect trouble today."

"How bad do you think it'll be?" Anchor asked.

"I'm expecting a fight," I replied.

"Sage, I'll need you to use your arcane senses as best you can. If something seems off, like a Path-walker is about to attack, yell at me, alright?"

"Of course," she replied. I checked myself. Chainmail, scale mail, pauldron, greaves, vambraces. Crossbow, spear. Lastly, I pulled on my helmet.

"You almost have full formal armour, brother," Brawl said.

"Your helmet just needs a plume, and it would be perfect for this occasion."

"We'll worry about that later," I said.

"When we get back to Castle Urcia, we can ask Shatter about it. For now, keep your eyes on the target. We have a festival to crash." I led my squad out to the barracks' central atrium, where most of the soldiers were gathering. Brawl sounded his horn to summon everyone that we'd brought, and I jumped up onto a plinth at the front.

"I hope today goes smoothly," I told the Dupes once they'd all gathered.

"But I can't guarantee it. I trust everyone here to give it your all, however. If push comes to shove, and we need to do a little violent convincing, I know you'll be right behind me." A few of the Dupes chuckled. Most of them were quiet.

"Romance, pick the best squad of riders, and have them patrol the outer bounds of the festival grounds on horseback. Everyone else stays along the main walkway. I'll have the majority of our force flanking the ceremonial barge. Whatever happens, we don't let them sacrifice anyone today. Understood?" A murmur of agreement rolled through the small group. I said, "Then quickly, to your positions. We're going to have a long day ahead of us."

~ ~ ~ As everyone moved into place, I picked a vantage point at the edge of the ceremonial grounds. For the past thirty years, they had held the ceremony south of the temple, at a wide curve in the river. It was the last bend before it reached the waterfall, so there was no time for their sacrificial victim to jump overboard and save himself.

The festival grounds had been isolated from the rest of the fields with a short fieldstone wall, and a herd of sheep grazed nearby, looking onto the expanse of cordoned-off grass with curious gazes. I joined them, taking the high ground and watching the festival get ready. People filed into the festival grounds. There had to be five hundred of them, all wearing the best clothes they could muster. They made rows, facing a central pathway that led to the river.

I saw no sign of Tunmod yet, but that didn't mean anything. He was probably preparing a speech of some kind. Near the edges of the festival grounds, some of Jaruwain's Seerservers—identifiable by their less-ornate salmon-coloured robes—set up decorations and prepared food for the meals they planned to serve after the ceremony. Though, this year, they had scrambled to push the date forward a few weeks, and it probably wouldn't be as large. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

We didn't just have people from Hyrdford. Farmers and ranchers made their way into the village from the countryside. Judging by how much the crowd spoke, they had lots to catch up this year. Sure, they were talking with normal voices, but when that many people did it (there were about a thousand of them, now), it became a roar. I couldn't even hear the distant rumble of the waterfall now. Hopefully, though, that meant word of the new thegn was spreading.

The men from the 294th marched into the center of the ceremonial grounds on foot, lining the edge of the central pathway, and my squad joined them, backs to the crowd. They waited at the front. I would've also joined them, but I needed to make a better entrance, and my squad could handle themselves well enough. This had to be a statement. It needed a little dramatic flair and perfect timing. I took stock of our enemies. Jaruwain was supposedly a seer, so that meant he had some kind of magic.

But I trusted what the Seerserver told me last night more. He was actually a druid with a powerful transformation ability. His Seerservers, in their salmon robes, were Path-walkers as well. I was expecting to see some cultists, but apparently, they weren't bold enough to reveal themselves in the daylight yet. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, I began tapping my foot inside my boot. Was anyone else going to show up?

With about two thousand people packed into the festival grounds, on both sides of the central walkway, we couldn't fit anyone else inside. It had better get started. Be patient, I told myself. Tunmod can't just cancel it. Sure enough, a horn sounded farther down the path, and a troop of seerservers approached, carrying a wooden barge. It was made of logs, stripped and tied together, and had a single gilded chair in the center. It had a massive backrest, ornately carved and painted in blue tones.

A young boy, somewhere around fifteen or sixteen, sat on the chair, his wrists bound to its armrests with ropes. He wore pristine blue robes and a massive brass headdress that had to weigh at least ten pounds. As they approached the river, he strained, fighting against his restraints, but it didn't accomplish anything. Sure, it was well-made, and it was fancy. But there was no way this barge alone cost as much as they were taking in with taxes.

Hell, there was no way the food and drinks and other parts of the festival cost that much, either. Tunmod and Jaruwain marched in front of the barge and the procession, swinging their arms almost like a parade master. Another horn sounded as they entered the specific festival grounds, passing through the outer fence. Tunmod's guards and mercenaries followed. In total, there had to be about sixty armed guards, and about half were Dupes. The crowd fell silent as they passed.

The first ranks of the crowd bowed hesitantly, and the rest followed, dipping their heads—even as the boy on the raft struggled against his bonds and begged them for help. The only ones who didn't bow were Jaruwain's men, Tunmod's army, and my own Dupes from the 294th. The procession stopped right before they reached the river, and Tunmod jumped up on a boulder, facing the crowd. He beamed, looking over a swath of bowing people, and spread his arms.

"Another year has passed, and although… certain circumstances required us to adjust our dates slightly, I'm glad all of you could travel out here to partake in this sacred tradition of ours." Tunmod spoke loudly, but he was a mortal, and he had no way of enhancing his voice. It wasn't as loud as it could have been. This was my cue. I had to get closer. I snuck down from the top of the hill, then pulled my cloak over my head. I used it to hide my armour as well.

Right after a group of Seerservers passed, performing a patrol of their own around the edge of the festival grounds, I vaulted over the fence and disappeared into the crowd. Staying low, I approached the barge. People murmured, complaining as I pushed through, but I kept going, keeping my head down and not drawing too much attention to myself. Tunmod continued his speech. He turned, surveying the crowd.

"Today is a joyous day, friends. We are here to celebrate our river's protector, the spirit who provides the bounty of this land. With compassion, we shall show her that we truly care by sending her this offering. In return, she shall protect us from her wrath in the coming spring.

"Before Jaruwain begins, however, I would like to remind everyone that today is also a celebration of compassion. The river spirit Achae is known for her benevolence, and it is a small price she requests for holding our rivers in check. She is kind, and we should all seek to embody her binding values." You worm, I thought. He was preparing to turn the crowd against me. I couldn't let him get away with it. Enough people saw through this ruse, didn't they? I navigated through the crowd faster, moving with less tact.

A few people muttered, telling me to watch it, to stop pushing, but I ignored them.

"We must remember to care for our brothers today—all of our brothers—and protect our lands from those who would seek to harm it," Tunmod continued.

"We cannot let those who would sow distrust and unkindness reign. In the years that we have devoted to Achae, we've strived to follow her example. Our moots are forgiving, and we only take from you what we need." He pressed his hands together as if he was praying, then turned in the direction of Jaruwain.

"That is enough from me. Spirits willing, I will speak to you all soon." As I drew closer, Jaruwain began chanting with a crowd of his servants. Some of the audience joined in, but most of them were silent. They spoke in a language I couldn't understand—even the mind of this body I'd taken over didn't know what they were saying. The boy tied to the barge thrashed, and he begged for help, but the chanting drowned out his voice. It wasn't the same chant they used to draw the life out of the body.

This was something entirely different. A ceremonial song. The chanting reached a climax by the time I approached the front of the crowd. Finally, Jaruwain raised his arms and shouted, "O mighty Achae! Accept this offering. When spring arrives, show us your true kindness and halt the floods!"

"Wait!" I shouted, pushing through the front ranks of the crowd, emerging between my soldiers.

"Don't take another step." Tunmod faced me, and Jaruwain froze.

"On whose authority do you halt this sacred tradition of our lands?" Tunmod asked, his hands trembling. I pulled my hood back.

"As thegn of these lands, I order you to stop. Stop right now, and listen to me, if you have any sense left in your bodies."