The Father of Withering

Chapter Twenty: Homecoming

It took a week of hard travel to get to greener pastures in Escor. The ranks upon ranks of satyrs who accompanied them did not complain or say much of anything. Nor did they fan out to look at the countryside. Estela or Varsus would glance warily at them occasionally, but nothing happened. Their obedience to him seemed absolute now that Lucius had agreed to work with them. The Dust Elves kept regular shipments of supplies going to keep them moving.

At last, the sands gave way to grassy hills, and Estela looked pleased. She stretched her arms, throwing back her cloak as she did while her hair flew behind her in the wind. "Finally, Escor! I haven't been back in ten years!"

"There must be many friends waiting for you," said Relma. She wondered if she would have a chance to meet them. Now that she'd thought of it, Estela had not spoken a great deal about Escor.

"Some," said Estela, voice darkening. "Hopefully, they're alive. Several rebellions happened while we were gone."

"Can't you exchange letters?" asked Relma.

"Most of them probably can't read," admitted Estela. "And uh, Father never was one for wasting paper."

"Keep ranks!" called Reginald from beside the satyr column. A hand was at the sword at his side as he walked. "Stay on the march! Your god has commanded that not one innocent death is to be done to Escor, nor damage rendered! Obey him, or you will taste my steel!"

"Reginald seems to be having fun," said Relma. Too much fun.

"He's a De Chevlon," said Estela with a smile and shrug. She seemed like she was in a good mood to be coming home. "They've always been able to understand satyrs because they're kin to them."

"What does that mean?" asked Relma.

"Oh come on, Relma," said Estela. "They're ruled by vampires."

"Oh right, I forgot about that," said Relma. It hadn't seemed necessary.

"I'm pleased to see you are enthusiastic," said Varsus. "But the tricky part has only begun. There is little to steal in this place, and enemies are elusive. In Escor, it will be another matter.

I suggest addressing them at some point.

"I'm surprised at how well the satyrs have behaved themselves, to be honest. I was expecting to have to keep them in line with constant executions."

"They are devoted to their god," said Relma, feeling less herself. "These are all volunteers on a crusade, not mere raiders. They've come to die for their religion, not live for material gains."

"Well, I hope we can explain that to King Vortegex," said Varsus. "Are you looking forward to going home, Estela?"

Estela remained silent for a moment. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean 'you're not sure.'" Asked Relma.

"Well, I... my Father, he sent me away to Gel Carn," said Estela. "I've always wanted him to be proud of me, and well, I'm not sure how things will-"

"It'll be fine, Estela," said Relma, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You've done many great deeds since you came to Gel Carn. I'm sure he'll be proud of you."

Then, one of the scouts came out of the hills. "The army of Escor is ahead. They have arrayed themselves for war."

Varsus nodded. "Run up the flag of conversation and also the banners. We'll try to meet them."

The army of Escor was vast indeed. It had chosen a spot between the hills with many slingers atop them. Ranks of white armored men stood with spears at the ready in the front ranks. On the flanks were men in cloth and leather with spears and perhaps an axe, if lucky.