Ogre's Passing

A chill wind blew in from the west, gently swaying the high grass bordering the grain fields of Sarion's farm. Arms folded across his solid chest, Sarion stared past his own lands, pondering the black rumors circulating the countryside. Stories of outlying homes being broken into, the families taken away in the night. The destruction of property, the loss of cattle. Peddlers traveling along the dusky roads spoke in low tones about the unrest, an increasing number of them staying away from outlying areas as they made their way to the more secure larger towns and villages of the central kingdom. Many tales, all of them troublesome.

A dark cloud hovered ominously over the collective conscience of the durable men and women who lived in this region, and Sarion felt it as well, creeping slowly over his own heart and mind, a growing menace, a warning of ill times to come. Something evil was encroaching on the borders of his homelands, the kingdom of Trencit. Sarion lived at the westernmost fringe of the domain, close to forsaken lands ruled by dangerous and malevolent creatures. And now a nameless entity was terrorizing the peaceful frontiersmen, plaguing their nightmares and threatening all who dwelt nearby.

He stooped down, grabbing a huge bale of hay, his brown, shoulder-length hair catching some of the individual straws. It smelled fresh and pleasant to him, a mundane aroma of peace and order. The cooler season was not too far distant, and this was a busy time of year for the household.

"Uncle Sarion, a group of horsemen approach."

He turned around as his young nephew Edward came towards him, the boy's cheerful face thoughtful as he pointed down the dirt lane leading to the farmhouse. Dust rose in trailing clumps as the party made their way steadily towards them.

"Yes -- and they're warriors, I see. Thirteen strong." Sarion replied, a note of surprise evident in his clear voice, as he held a hand over his keen blue eyes, blocking out the late afternoon sun.

"How can you tell from here?" asked Edward. He lifted his curly blond head up excitedly. There were few armed companies in the region as they were seldom required, except as routine patrols. The king's royal armies were needed in the east, where a war was being fought against their enemies, the Devlents.

"Hmm, perhaps they were sent to investigate the raiding. It's probably not large enough to be part of a major division."

The group approached at a modest gait, and Sarion waved a hand in recognition. The men were dressed in with a minimum of armor, looking more prepared for quickness and stealth, the common attire for a small scouting party. The horses were tall and broad, bred and raised in service of the kingdom's fighting force. Coming forward was a lightly bearded man of brown hair with a hawkish face wearing a helm of steel, a crimson eagle on his breast. Sarion knew it to be the symbol of a captain in the Trencit Home Guard. He raised his eyebrows in response, genuine surprise on the handsome face. It was unheard of to see one of the king's own elite commanders outside of the eastern provinces, their numbers being very few. Unusual indeed...

"Well met, my good captain. It is not too often we see any of His Majesty's finest in our lands. What brings you so far from the capital?"

The man signaled for his squadron to halt, expertly reigning in his own steed, steel glinting in the fading sunlight.

"Greetings also. You're obviously familiar with royal insignia. I'm Captain Grundel, leader of this company and an officer of the Trencit Home Guard."

Sarion made a short bow. "My name is Sarion, and this is my nephew Edward. You and your men are welcome, and at my service. Whatever supplies or information I have is at your immediate disposal."

A sharp look passed Grundel's weathered face, quickly disappearing. "Our thanks to you."

"Could I ask what it is you seek? The sight of your group is encouraging, and I'm sure you are well aware of the recent events. The people of the countryside have appealed directly to the king. There is a nameless force which threatens the region."

Grundel dismounted from his great steed, a black mare that frisked with scarce contained energy.

"And that is exactly why we are here. To offer aid and to find answers. My assignment is to seek out the source of danger, eliminating whatever is preying upon our people."

Sarion nodded. "The popular belief is obvious, of course. Something has crept in from the wilderness, and is terrorizing the countryside. But this isn't the work of bandits, or common men at all. No, my belief is that it hails from the Grammore Lowlands."

"And if that is where our mission takes us, then it will find us ready and determined." Grundel's eyes were quietly intense.

Sarion frowned. "Is there a larger group being dispatched?"