The Kingdom of Liticea: The War in the Westland

Chapter Two: The Chained Sword

For a rabble of brutish barbarians, the Morcars did a fine job of refurbishing Talonwood. After their victory, they disposed of the dead in a funeral pyre, both Litici and their own and set to work cleaning the whole place up. They scrubbed all the blood and other excrement away, refurbished the wall with their ghastly colors and remade the office which had formally belonged to Lord Rengle. Of course, most of this was done using leftover Litici prisoners, before they were moved west.

One prisoner remained however. Unlike the others, she was commanded to be given accommodations that the Morcar commander saw fit for a woman of her rank. Eliza Elenor was placed in one of the few guest rooms in the dainty tower of Talonwood Keep. It was a far cry of her bedchambers back in the south, nevertheless her years at the School of Chivalry has prepared her for bleak sleeping conditions. It was, after all the duty of a knight to find and eliminate the King's enemies, no matter how inhospitable the place they hide.

Eliza's room had none of the tapestry of colors like the rooms at Noor, Blackfield or Anton. The walls showed their true face. Bleak, gray stones stacked atop each-other with the gaps in between filled with mortar.  The bed is a creaky, decrepit frame that feels as if its about to give way every time Eliza lies down on its thin, straw mattress. The only thing that was remotely comfortable was the feather pillow. Her window to the outside world was foggy glass held by thick iron bars, possibly put in place so that Lord Talonwood's children would not crawl out at night. Unfortunately it gave more the impression of a prison than a household.

Eliza tried her best to avoid thinking of the food. Great warriors the Morcars may be, but she might as well accept cooking from Locke Horcaster. 

Whereever her old friends from the school of chivalry may be hiding right now, she at least thanks Rathas that they were not here. Being the sons of minor barons was not a very strong incentive to cut them down where they stood. The daughter of a duke? Her life alone had the power to keep possibly a fifth of Liticea's armies at bay. Markus Elenor may disobey his King, but family still runs deeper than anything else in Liticea.

It had been days. Perhaps more than a week since she was take prisoner. The initial shock of it all had worn off, and now all she had left was the boredom. If only Talonwood had some books laying around. Though, if the Morcars found them they likely would have used them as fuel for their fires, or ass rags. Haldo Likely was the only one of their lot that could actually read. Then again, the average Litici was not the sharpest of people so who is she to talk.

What she wished she had was a needle to sew of the enormous rag they gave her as a blanket. To take an old ripped up dress and revitalize it or to make a new one in general was one of Eliza's favorite activities as a child. As typically girlish as it was, to take that needle and create a lovely tapestry from mere string gave her the greatest joy. Until duty to the family called and she was forced to replace her needle with a sword.

If she ever got out of this, taking up the hobby again would be a fun thing to do. That was it! The perfect thing to occupy her mind. She lay back in her rickety bed and began thinking of designs for great work.

Years and years of martial study had left her artistic side sadly handicapped. When one was the sword of not only their family but their entire Duchy, it can hardly be surprising. At the school, they were taught music and write poetry. But Eliza's musicianship could barely pass the beginners stage and her poetry read like the ramblings of some hopelessly romantic imbecile. Tapestries were the only art to which she was suited, but she was at the school of Chivalry, and sewing was not the work of Knights.

Despite that, she was able to push the last ten years briefly aside and image she was back seated on a couch beside her mother her cousins. Of her family she was the best. While her cousins were sewing roses or letters, she created an image that drew for m the legends of old. It was a great warrior, clad in thick ebony armor facing down a ravenous red dragon.

That would be a good start. Her masterpiece would have a dragon, not only that, but the greatest one of all. She tried to remember... Belkor? Belkock? Belkarock! That was it! He was the dragon of all dragons. Nothing less than he shall be worthy of Eliza's work.

Before she could begin thinking of the details of her dragon's opponent, in burst one of her Morcar captors, carrying with him her delightful feast of salted meat, stale bread and ale.

"Glory, glory! It's supper time!" She sardonically remarked, confident her guest would not catch her snide. He appeared not to. He simply left the tray and left. Eliza picked up the tray, but noticed under the plate was the corner of a piece of parchment. She set her yeah down and examined it.

Keep faith, for you still have friends in Talonwood.

It read. Without missing a beat, she placed the parchment in the fire.Friends? She figured most of her friends were out freezing to death in the snow. If they were hiding amongst the Morcars, they must be quite skilled. Something new to think about.

As fortunate it seemed, this new revelation threw off track her thoughts on her tapestry.