The Sprint

Chapter 2

  "How quick you are to disparage his Majesty's request," She meets words as soon as she arrives to where the messenger is. 

  The words were not addressed to Zarracen but to Sir Gibraltar who stood with a frown on his face. Despite the thick yet groomed beard upon it the expression of annoyance around his lips were clear. She knows she must intervene before the messenger says something that would anger Gibraltar more. Not that she cares about the messenger having Sir Gibraltar killed for disrespect it is merely due to the fact that any messenger from Mitra that has ever met her on the battlefield came from two people. One is Ducane Norcross. The other is his Majesty Bhaltair Sebastian Lomidze Iximdor.

  Neither of which should be ignored for self-preservation reasons. Sir Norcross is the Grand Shield Knight the highest-ranking knight answering only to the emperor himself Bhaltair. To ignore or treat a messenger of with disrespect is equal to asking for death. Though there are some with the acumen to perhaps stay their hands, Zarracen does not have this leeway. So, she hurries forward to greet the glaring messenger in too pristine a garment to show he had hurried to deliver.

  "Greetings Herald of His Majesty," Zarracen intones stepping forward to make her appearance noted. The Herald turns and though he glared at Sir Gibraltar a small, pleasant expression comes upon the Herald's face.

  "Herald Stace makes greetings with the Grand Knight of Valor En Zarracen," he bows slightly at the waist not low enough to show disrespect but high enough to note that he didn't believe he should. Zarracen internally groans hoping that this Stace would not bring her trouble. Gibraltar glare deepens and Zarracen hopes he keeps himself composed.

  "Herald Stace what message do you have for me."

  "With the defeat of the Dragon of Arcus, His Imperial Majesty is requesting you to make haste to Mitra with the Dragon's Heart."

  "That was the plan the men should already be clearing up the dragon," Zarracen says not even questioning how the word of its defeat spread. Herald Stace sniffs indignantly however.

  "Speaking of which what praytell gave you the idea that this dragon was fine for consumption. Going against his majesty's wishes."

  Ah so that was what that statement was for. Zarracen shrugs and smirks. "His Imperial Majesty requested only the dragon heart. My orders said nothing of the rest of the creature. Do you have issue for what I do with my kill?"

  "His majesty will," the Herald bluntly states. 

  "Then it is His Majesty who will voice his displeasure not a lowly messenger." Zarracen's tone is as icy as the northern lands. A barren wasteland where not too many animals or forestry flourishes. The Herald flinches at the tone. Her aura enforcing his fear causing him to tremble. 

  "Of course. Apologies En Zarracen. His Imperial Majesty will be expecting the dragon heart within a week."

  "A week that is impossible! It took weeks on its own for us to even arriv-," Sir Gibraltar stops abruptly to a sword at his throat. 

  "Quiet you will not speak ill of the request made by the Star of Ixmtaraza," Zarracen's new sword causes a few hairs of his beard to fall onto the floor. She stares at Sir Gibraltar before putting her weapon down. "Understood Herald of the Star I will arrive at Mitra within a week with the dragon's heart on full display. Also, it is no longer En Zarracen. It is Galt Zarracen." Zarracen remarks pointedly towards him. She had let his passive aggressive tone slip in order to not case friction however, she must remind him that she is no commoner. At least she hasn't been one for months now.

  "Ah, of course Galt Zarracen. I will regard this message to his majesty with haste," the Herald bows lower this time before disappearing with a gust of wind leaving only smoke behind. He was no herald but a simple spy that came with the knightage it seems. 

  "Sir Gibraltar I am aware of the distance and the haste that must be made however, should you have questioned too much you would be dead now," Zarracen reminds the old warrior. She does not know him too well only by word of the mouth but enough is known to her that such a loss to this Empire's military would bring nothing but sadness to many within the ranks.

  "Apologies Galt Zarracen," Gibraltar gives a slight bow knowing that perhaps she may have well saved his life.

  "Now to dinner! I leave at dawn!"

  "But we are to escort-"

  "The pace I must make is inhuman. Unless you can keep up with my legs."

  "Legs? En Zarracen you don't intend to run?"

  "To reach the Empire in a sennight, I must at least move swift enough to get to Arthwa the City of the Transients. There I can perhaps rest upon a carriage."

  "But, you must also carry the dragon's remains."

  "I am aware. Tonight have someone prep the cart and add the dragon."

  Sir Gibraltar simply nods and escorts her to the dining area. There she feasts until her gut is full. Her fellow knights part with liquor they must have snuck in a few of the barrels. Sadly she herself could not indulge. She would have an early morning. 

  After she eats Zarracen takes hold of both the dragon's heart and flame sac sequestered within two separate clear marble container with preservation enchantments etched onto them. She brings it into her tent not one to trust her fellow soldiers with something so important to her own mission. There she lays upon her bed with the jars right next to her head and slumbers. It is a restless sleep too worried that someone who did not like an individual of her lowly status in the stratum that she is now would come take her hard-earned favors.

  When morning comes, she is not rested as she should have been, but it is better than if she had left once the Emperor's request was made. Fully dressed in light armor with her crest, a growling jackal with the feathers of a condor splayed out behind it's head on her left pauldron and the knight insignia for valor a griffin circled by a reef of borage. On her hip is a simple short sword she grabbed from a barrel of weaponry that they had stocked for their short campaign. She packs the heart and the flame sac in an on the outside looking a rather normal ruck sack. However, inside was large enough to hold that heart of a dragon and it's flame sac comfortably. Though likely not much else would fit in the bag with such mighty objects taking up space.

  Zarracen shrugs her shoulders getting the bag comfortably on her shoulders before stepping out of her tent. She walks to the center of the camp gaining a few salutes on her way. From the looks of things the company was packing up as well. Most of the tents were down and equipment was being stuffed into their specific carts. As she looks more it seems like they were likely all prepared for a last bastion with how much equipment they brought. Though she does not blame them. The Dragons and their ilk were classified as one the five Fierce Cognifiends that could decimate countries without fear of being stopped. 

  Though of course such a thing would depend on their actual strength in comparison to their defenders but very few people can stand on equal ground to a Cognifiend let along a Fierce one. Their distrust in her ability to win and the expectation that they would have to deal with what was left of an angry Fierce Cognifiend is no similar to her own. She won by luck. By the magic on an old trinket that she had not thought of in years but kept out of nostalgia. Given to her by a figure that was no more than a shadow in her memories. Though, it's a wonder who that figure truly was to have an item that could stand up to such a beast of immense power.

Zarracen has questions. Questions that are over ten years too late to be answered. Though at least she can ask the squire from yesterday for directions.

  "Squire!" Caleb leaps up and turns as he was the only squire in the vicinity. He quickly salutes here.

  "Galt Zarracen! How can I help you?" His entire body was stiff, a lot stiffer than yesterday when he escorted her through the camp.

  "Have you seen Sir Gibraltar?"

"No Galt I have not?" He shakes his head. "I did hear that he was setting up your cart and provisions though towards the southeast of the camp."

"I see."

Zarracen turns to the right and begins her trek to that portion of the camp. The crowded camp thins out the further in this direction she goes. As usual she gets her customary salutes. No members of this company move to greet her. She is grateful for it. Not wanting to talk to anyone here. The emperor was calling and it is here time to move. 

The cart holding the dragon is easy to spot the closer she gets to it. The sight of Sir Gibraltar barking orders to the fellow knights in the area comes into view relatively quickly with her pace. The words he was saying passively being ignored by Zarracen while the lesser ranked knights ran around to quickly finish up tying down the dragon and reinforcing the cart for the journey. As Sir Gibraltar takes  a bag from a nearby squire she arrives to the seen.

"Sir Gibraltar is my cart prepared," Zarracen questions as soon as she arrived at his location.

  "Ah Galt Zarracen!" He gives a quick salute to his superior. "I've prepared the cart. There's also a bag of a week's worth of supplies."

  "Can you even spare that much? It's a large camp."

  "Do not worry Grand Knight. There should easily be enough for the company's return and we can gain some supplies on the way. We are knights and warriors alike."

  "Hmph, that's true." Zarracen steps forward, taking in the sight of the dragon's whose skin was peeled from the bones in some areas showing the bones beneath and in others full of the glistening white scales. The cart seems sturdy but it'll be tested if it can keep up with her pace. She wonders how many nights of sleep she'll be able to get. 

  The land going towards Mitra was full of harsh lands. Rolling hills and plains that hid deadly snakes and insects. Cognifiends and Opaquest that even the strongest of regular warriors could struggle against. Luckily, the path didn't lead towards mountainous regions like that of which she has just came from. Those areas seem to have a congregation of weak beasts to strong and even those with the oddest of abilities. 

She was prepared however none were worse than her prior foes. Zarracen thinks this as she straps herself to the wagon as if she was a Great Tars in need of a harness. With a passing nod to Sir Gibraltar Zarracen leaves the gate. A gust of wind and a crack signaling the speed in which she departed. Idly the knights watching her go hoped that she wouldn't over do it and destroy the carriage as she went.

With no set path despite the quick pace she was making Zarracen at least knew enough to not damage the carriage. She would slow her body and brace it for times when the carriage would need to avoid large foliage, rocks or even the random grazer in the road. Being what she was she had no issues whatsoever with the carriage. Though, she did on occasion cast a fortification enchantment on the carriage as she went.

This pace and process continued for hours until the sun rose to its highest point bearing down a hellish amount of heat upon her. Used to the sunlight she knew she could keep going. Yet, it was also a great time to take a moments rest.

She skids to a stop.

Skrreech!

The carriage's wheels makes an ungodly noise as it begins slow with her. They stop within a few seconds her boots feeling rather warm. She takes a look at them and groans audibly. The soles of them were practically worn down as if they'd been through dozens of marches and yet these were as new of a pair she could get from the quartermaster of Sir Gibraltar's company. 

They likely wouldn't last the rest of the day meaning she'd be barefoot for the rest of the trip. It's not the first time but shoes were a luxury that she never wished she'd have to do without. As a youth the amount of times she stepped on some unmentionable and questionable fluid or mess was numerous. Not to mention the cuts upon the bottom of her feet that would constantly get infected.

Fear of getting a foot removed was practically burned into her mind. Fortification magic would not even help.

"hah!" 

She releases an annoyed breath but packs the shoes away deciding that when she reaches Arthwa she'd at least want shoes to walk in until she reaches a proper shop to buy her own. That alone was going to be annoying and she'd have to be more on guard than before due to her location. 

Speaking of she murmurs "trard tahear,"a small threat detection spell to search for creatures or things that may mean her harm.

Once that is done she takes a seat on the carriage biting down on her rations as she relaxes slightly. This break will be only to replenish herself with food and water and rest her legs once that is done she'll depart again. She still has not completely recovered from the battle with the Arcus. If she was she'd likely be able to cut her journey in half.

Though she felt strangely rejuvenated despite her injuries it was best not strain herself too much. 

Ping!

1,2,3,4,5. Zarracen counts. Her eyes dart around tracking where her spell was picking up the enemies. They were invisible or she lowers her eyes to the grass. A Cognifiend. She concentrates her on hearing. 

Whatever it was is brushing against the ground. A type of snake one. Normally, she'd have no issue fighting them however, she'd rather not tire herself out. 

As she thinks one a large snake almost as large a horse darts out of the high grass. Bladed teeth as long as a short sword glistens with poison. Her sword is in hand immediately.

A weak Cognifiend. Just the Glazed Serpens. A weak serpent class Cognifiend whose rank as a Cognifiend instead of a low class beast was mostly afforded due to their poison that could knock out and kill most tier 1 warriors. However, normally her presence alone would have kept them from coming near her. No matter the level Cognifiends had a sense about them that could tell who could destroy them.

And yet in spite of this the spell is clocking more coming as she beheads the one that attacked first. Her best option is to run instead of being swarmed. If a bit of poison touched the dragon it would not bode well for her. She could not allow them to foul her prize to the emperor. 

Loathe as she is to run from a fight, especially one that would give a lot of material she quickly sheathes her weapon. The remnants of her food and little drink in her flask is placed in her bag before she takes off again. While in motion she reharnesses herself to the large cart. If this happens again it will be clear that she cannot stay in one place for long.

As if that thought spelled disaster for Zarracen it came true. Anytime she stayed motionless for more than a few moments the spell would pickup Cognifiends left and right coming in near droves. It was as if they were summoned to the dragon their remains calling out to anything to feast upon them.

  She wasn't getting any sleep tonight.