Chapter 9 - John

AN:

Can't wait till this arc of the story is done. I'm excited to write the stuff that comes in the next arc.

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John finished giving his report to the knight.

"This is dire news indeed," The knight said as he looked John up and down. "With Castletown burning and the only entrance to the castle block on flat ground blocked, I fear the result. We can only hope that the men of Morne have retaken it since you saw it lost or the consequences will be... catastrophic."

John heard the creaking of metal as the knight's fist clenched.

"Those vile dregs. I had never thought highly of them, but to think they would do this. It seems their blood did show through in the end.

"I can see that you are wearing armor and have risked your life and fought to save the townsfolk you came across. I can send you to the courtyard with the others if you wish. Or, can you find your courage once again to help defend against this vile attack?"

John was brought up short with that. Did he want to fight?

He sympathized with the misbegotten somewhat, and had many thoughts good and bad about both sides in this, but it was clear to him what he had to prioritize. The misbegotten wouldn't have him, so his choices were to fight them or to not.

Keeping Irina alive was more important than anything else here. The choice was obvious.

"I'll help in the defense."

The knight nodded and tilted his helmet at John's cleaver.

"Have you trained with a weapon?"

John shook his head.

"Only lightly, with a spear. I am a fair shot with a bow."

The knight shook his head.

"The bow will not be useful here, and we have none besides." The knight turned to one of the few footmen there. "Get the man a polearm and a helmet from one of the dead.

"Untrained, you won't be useful in the line. You'll join in our footmen lookout rotation and give them more rest. We don't know how long we'll have to hold here.

"I see blood soaking the shoulder of your gamebson. Are you injured?"

"Yes. A knife from a misbegotten."

In response the knight pulled out a golden flask decorated with the image of a tree and filled with a brilliant red liquid with a faint glow.

"I can spare a few drops." the knight said firmly as he handed John the flask, not explaining further as if everything else should be self-evident.

John carefully took a light sip of the red liquid.

It was the best thing he ever tasted! Like lightly spicy caramel apples. As it slid down his throat, he saw the faint impression of a flash of red aura infuse him and then fade immediately. He felt a faint itching and pulling inside his shoulder. It was healing so quickly that he could feel the wound partially close.

Feeling the temptation to take another sip just to taste it again, John handed the flask back, even as he really, really wanted one of those for himself.

The footman returned holding a spear and a helmet.

John threw the helmet on and grabbed the spear. His view was partially restricted on the edges but otherwise was completely open. The blade of the spear the footman brought was longer than the one John was used to. It was made not only for thrusting, but also to slash at an enemy.

"Excellent. That done, let us trade pleasantries. What is your name?" The knight asked.

"John White."

"John. I am Knight Lieutenant Carth, sworn to Lord Edgar and commander of these two twenties of men. Normally you would sign a contract with the lord for wage and the like, but these are not normal circumstances.

"Now that pleasantries are dealt with, go to the front and take over the lookout on the west road to the right. If you spot anyone or anything coming, retreat back here behind the line and report it. If someone gets the drop on you start yelling immediately while trying to retreat. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Be a lookout, make sure you guys find out one way or another if someone is coming."

Carth nodded.

"Yes..."

John's eyes widened.

"Ah, sorry. Yes sir."

"Excellent!" Carth slapped him on the shoulder. "We'll make a proper soldier out of you yet if we survive this night. Now go."

John nodded and copied the fist to the chest salute he had seen soldiers do before heading to where he was told to go.

It took a couple of minutes to find where the lookout was located. Hidden in the doorway of a particular building.

Explaining what he was there for, the footman gave John a nod and left, and John assessed his location.

The street was straight for one for one of the longer stretches he'd seen in Clifftown. There were a few staircases up to this level as the street stretched away from the plaza. In this area most of the buildings were small fortification buildings like towers or other buildings. There was also the fact that the winged misbegotten didn't have to use a staircase and could directly fly up from any point below. Or glide down from above, as despite this area leading to the bowels of the castle, the base of the proper ramparts of Castle Morne sitting above were at least at least a half dozen levels above them.

He'd have to watch to make sure no one came from any of those directions.

John dutifully watched. The quiet in his close proximity contrasted with the dull roar of the chaos of screams and fires echoing from Clifftown distantly below and Castletown across. But despite that, nothing happened. No one came for him to see and report.

Despite his best efforts, there was only so long that one could keep their attention on nothing, and After nearly an hour his mind began to wander slightly, even if he still was watching his surroundings.

His mind turned towards what had happened over the last few hours since he had woken to that scream. How he had see his first killing of a person in real life, along with a dozen more as they had moved around the town, and had encountered nearly ten times as many corpses as he had personally seen killings.

It was unpleasant to the utmost degree to see and experience, but John wasn't extremely upset because of it. As bad as it was to say, the gore, which would have been the most impactful to him when he had first arrived to the Lands Between, didn't overly bother him, having butchered many animals since he had arrived in the Lands Between.

He did feel bad to see regular people dying, but it was only moderate sympathy that one has for strangers. It was terrible and shouldn't have happened, but John wasn't inconsolable about it or anything.

As for the misbegotten deaths, even the ones that had died at his hands, to John it was simply that they had gambled and lost.

To John morality was like a giant game that society played. Many played fair. Some tried to sneakily cheat, and some tried to play rules lawyer. Some just tried to change the rules of the game, or the referee.

But some stopped engaging in the game altogether and nakedly try to seize whatever they wanted directly.

To John, once someone stopped playing by the rules, whatever they were, they couldn't expect that others would continue to play by the rules either. And if the game was rigged against you, you might just have to throw the rules away to be able to have a chance at winning.

The misbegotten were upending the game that was rigged against them, with all the consequences that brought, so John did not feel bad about meeting them there. The golden rule was the closest to an ultimate rule of morality.

Or to put it another way you should get whatever you give.

Even animals like bats, rats, cats, and dogs were born knowing it. It was a rule of nature if you wanted to be a social animal.

The misbegotten were engaging in a race war, and John could understand why. Realistically they didn't really have a choice to do otherwise if they actually wanted to effect change. If they tried to peacefully make change nothing would happen. And nearly the entirety of the rest of society would try and undermine them if the misbegotten won but the regular people were spared.

Really, both sides here were bad, even if he was more sympathetic to the misbegotten than the people of the Golden Order. If it wasn't for Irina, John would have urged Kalé to not come here in the first place, and would have just stayed completely out of this mess.

But now he was involved whether he wanted to be or not, and his side on this conflict had already been drawn for him as he wasn't a misbegotten and Irina was a human as well. Even if he could somehow convince the misbegotten to leave him alone and flee Castle Morne, he would stay and fight because of her.

And as terrible as it was to think about, the number runes he gained when he had killed a misbegotten had been incredible. Each of the misbegotten he'd killed had gave him fifty times more runes than any of the large game, like boars or deer or sheep, he had hunted over the years. In killing one misbegotten, he had gained more runes than a year's worth of hunting.

He could now begin to see why people like the Bloody Fingers and Recusants could pick the path they had. John would have to make sure this 'reward' for killing didn't drive him to make terrible choices.

As the night wore on John's lack of sleep made itself apparent. His adrenaline finally crashed, but John didn't waver in his job even if he had caught himself waking up mid-fall once.

As the night wore on, a few times John or the lookout on the eastern street spotted misbegotten on the prowl or the rare townsfolk escaping, and they responded appropriately, heading back and informing the rest of the men. The townsfolk were taken to the courtyard and groups of misbegotten who didn't run away and were foolish enough to attack the soldiers headed by Carth were killed and added to the pile of corpses.

Some time in the night John was relieved of his post and was allowed to sleep in the entrance-way behind the line. He was so tired he had no trouble at all falling asleep on the hard stone floor. When he was woken by one of the men later with the sun high in the sky, he still felt like dog shit, but much less so than he had before he had went to sleep.

"John, Sir Carth has been summoned by Lord Edgar. He is taking you with him," the soldier waking him said.

John waved his hand in acknowledgement as he forced himself to his feet. He picked up his spear and helmet that were laying next to him and fixed his clothes and armor that had twisted itself out of place as he had slept.

Shaking himself awake, he walked over to where Carth stood surrounded by a small handful of the soldiers. John wasn't sure why he was coming with Carth, but he knew enough about the military to not question it at the moment. He would know soon enough anyways.

In the daylight, John was able to see the details on Carth's surcoat. It was a pillar made of dragons on a field of red.

"Remember men, just because we are going through the castle doesn't mean that it is free of dregs. Our position wasn't heavily attacked but other entrances may have been broken through at some point. We do not know if the castle has yet been cleared of any of the dregs who may have entered or were already inside when this all started."

Carth arranged them in a diamond formation as they made their way through the castle's bowels. As they went through a confusing series of hallways and staircases, John realized that many of the rooms in the bowels of Castle Morne were dedicated to holding resources. Many, many rooms were just filled with barrels or held other supplies.

John also saw that the castle was like those made in medieval times back in his own world.

It had been purposely built with a confusing labyrinthine layout and with things such as deliberately uneven steps, all of which advantaged the defenders who lived here and knew the castle's idiosyncrasies over invaders, who would not know these things.

The difference was that Castle Morne was of a fantastically larger scale than the fortresses of Europe.

John did his best to memorize things as he kept alert while they moved through the corridors. No misbegotten jumped out to attack them and as they went further up and into the castle they saw more and more fellow soldiers and knights passing them in the corridors or guarding areas. Soon enough the entire area was saturated with them, the soldiers and knights like bees in the hive that was the Castle Morne proper.

Carth led them till they reached a room with a large wooden door, built to scale with the large scale of Carth and most other Banished Knights' bodies. It had elaborate engravings of hawks in the wood.

"Wait out here," said Carth as he opened the door to reveal a large study filled with quite a few other armored knights similar to Carth, but some wore surcoats with various heraldry or no surcoat or heraldry at all.

Despite the various designs, not a single one bore a surcoat with the heraldry of a tree on gold or a lion on red. Instead they bore different heraldry like that of a hawk on red, a wolf on green, a pillar of dragons on red, a beast with flowing fur-feathers on green, a tree on red, or various other similar motifs.

They were all standing around a table. At the center of these knights was a man of lesser stature than other banished knights, more like that of a regular man. Yet he still wore the same banished knight armor with his helmet taken off and his surcoat was a coat of wolves' fur quartered with flowing feathers on maroon.

John caught sight of the man's steel gray hair and thick, short beard before the door closed behind Carth.

John and the men stood around waiting nearby in the corridor across from the door. John could hear the faint murmur noise coming from the door that showed people were speaking inside, but they were too faint to make anything out.

After some time the door opened once again and knights began exiting the room one after the other. John got another look at the man that had been standing in the middle of them.

The man had steely grey eyes that matched his naturally grey hair. He looked to be in his prime of early middle age, the age that people in the Lands Between stopped aging.

Carth exited among the crowd of banished knights grabbing John's attention.

"Lord Edgar will be holding an address in the courtyard about the dregs' uprising. We will be there to show support. After that we have orders." Carth said, his voice seeped with irritation. Through his helmet, he audibly took a breath to calm himself and continued.

"While the address is being organized, John, we need to get you properly equipped. There will be plenty of equipment to spare now after the number of men that perished last night," Carth commented darkly. "After the address we will return to our post. The misbegotten have ceased their attacks for the moment but who knows when they will renew their assault."

Carth led the group through the halls of the castle until they arrived at a busy armory. Carth approached the man directing people, another banished knight.

"Knight Major, I am Knight Lieutenant Carth. I need equipment for this man under my command. He volunteered last night to join the fight last night. We have already given him a helmet and partisan from one of our fallen, but he does not have any other equipment than what he has on him now."

"Last night? Hmm... Daman! Get this man set up with the standard equipment for a corporal! Until this is over we need everyone in the best equipment we can spare," the Knight Major ordered a nearby man who was in the middle of changing into the same chainmail and light plate that a Godrick's soldier wore.

"Thank you Knight Major. I will also need provisions for my men as well. Rations and bedrolls to start. As well as-" Carth continued with the Knight Major getting into a conversation about supplies for his men.

Daman finished putting his armor on including the surcoat with Godrick's heraldry, and then he helped John find the appropriate armor that would fit him and handed him the same type of shield that other soldiers wielded. Once they were done John and Daman had identical equipment like any other one of Godrick's soldiers, except for their different faces and heights.

The man then handed John a golden flask filled with red faintly glowing liquid. A Flask of Crimson Tears. This time John got a good look at the first truly magical item he'd interacted with.

"Take good care of this flask. It is a holy relic from the ancient past. It holds only crimson tears, the lips of the flask not allowing anything else to pass them, and keeps the tears vital energies from escaping and the tears from losing potency over time like what would happen in a normal flask," said Daman.

"Does it not have a lid? What about spilling it?"

"Ha! Really underestimating our holy relics huh? The flask will only release its bounty whenever someone touching it wishes so. So make sure whatever enemy you are fighting does not touch it or they will be able to dump it out with nothing but a twist of the hand.

"Since you are a foreigner, you should know as well that crimson tears mend wounds with a whole flask of crimson tears being able to heal a whole battle's worth of wounds on oneself. They can heal slashes, stabs, even a sword through the heart and out of your back if you have enough and drink it quickly enough, but if something is cut off it won't let it grow back."

John's shoulder wound still throbbed and he remembered how good it had tasted.

"I have a wound on my shoulder from yesterday. Should I take a sip now to fix it?"

"Don't be a spendthrift. Crimson tears are in short supply. We only get a small supply of them once or twice a year from our scarab hunting patrols, and we are already running low after the chaos of last night. Best to make sure a wound is at least bleeding. Wouldn't want to run out after being run through because you fixed some scratches a few times.

"And for the Grace of the Erdtree don't try and pour them into a mug and dilute it with mater or mix drink into it. That will ruin the energies of the tears and make them little better than a poultice. You wouldn't believe the idiotic things I have seen some idiots do with it, especially when they are drunk."

John nodded and seeing that John was all kitted out, the man moved onto other tasks.

Very carefully, using his helmet to catch any stray liquid if something went wrong, John tilted the flask upside down to test if it really didn't need a lid. He saw the tears slosh around the neck of the flask, but not a drop of it left the lips of the flask, as if an invisible barrier kept them from doing so.

Absolutely fascinated with his first magic item ever, he almost didn't hear it when his superior called.

"John! What are you doing just standing there?" Carth reprimanded.

John hurriedly put his helmet back on and tucked the flask securely into the metal loop on his belt made to hold for the flask.

"Sorry, Sir."

John moved over and joined back up with their group.

Carth looked John up and down seriously for the first time, stopping on his eyes.

"A foreigner?" There was a faintly negative tone in Carth's voice. "Then there is much you will need to learn, John. We'll deal with that later."

Carth led them all up onto the battlements that surrounded the castle's courtyard where many other groups of soldiers stood. The courtyard was very large, able to host as many people as a small local music concert and was absolutely packed with townsfolk, at least over a thousand of them.

Their squad stood by some crenelations looking out into the courtyard.

To John the mass of people in the courtyard had the demeanor of startled sheep. An air of helplessness and uncertainty permeated the entire crowd as they skittishly stood around.

At the front of the courtyard a wooden platform was set up atop a small raised stone section built into the corner courtyard that extended all the way from the corner to the middle.

As everyone in and around the courtyard waited, John tried to spot Kalé, but John didn't see him before the wait was over.

Coming out of a nearby entrance, a very short banished knight stepped into the courtyard with an air that commanded authority. Behind him and flanking his sides were four more banished knights who escorted him to the platform.

At his entrance, people quieted down and turned towards the platform.

John recognized the knight's armor as the same exact armor as the grey-haired man had worn with all the same signs of wear and use and the same surcoat. He carried a banished knight halberd like Carth's except this one had a red-orange tinge to the metal. John suspected he knew who this was.

After the knight climbed the platform he took off his helmet and held it to his waist with his arm, the other holding his halberd. As he began to speak, he powerfully projected his voice, nearly yelling, to reach the entirety of the courtyard, his tone full of authority.

"People of Morne, now that the attacks of the misbegotten have ceased, I have time to inform you all of our situation.

"Last night, with nary a sign beforehand, the misbegotten rebelled.

"They plotted in secret and had somehow smuggled in many crudely made weapons that they used to launch their attack. The first target they struck were my men, cutting more than a quarter of them down in ambushes coordinated to happen at the same time across the city.

"Even worse, during this attack, they set fire to many of the guard posts in Castletown.

"As the misbegotten rampaged through the streets bringing wanton slaughter on innocent townsfolk to sate their bloodlust, and my men were locked into combat with them in every area of Morne, a large number of misbegotten managed to take the entrance-way to the castle in Castletown, though they were stopped before they reached the lift.

"As this was happening the fires they set grew out of control into a great conflagration."

Edgar paused grimly, everyone dead quiet with dread.

"The entirety of Castletown was burned."

Wails of grief ran out in the crowd as many women and children began wailing. Those who were lucky had someone there to begin comforting them as Lord Edgar continued speaking, his words filled with the promise of violence, as a faint wind began gathering around him and increasing in intensity.

"The cowardly, traitorous misbegotten think Castle Morne will fall to them. It will not. They scream about a "Savior" who they rebel in the name of. They do not know that there will be no one who can save them from us.

"Knight Major Crann informed me about this supposed savior, a crimson-maned misbegotten of great size. The one responsible for this rebellion. We will hunt this horrid living insult to the Erdtree down, and make him pay!"

The wind Edgar was howling. He stomped and his boot exploded with the might of a storm as the entire wooden platform rattled and nearly collapsed and the shockwave of wind flew over the crowd.

"As I speak, we are being besieged by the misbegotten, boxed in the castle from every side. We cannot allow this rebellion to spread, allow this siege to continue. I am confident that soon we will bring their so-called savior low. The misbegotten will break, and then they will reap what they have sown.

"People, I will tell you what is at stake. The explosive stone the mines in the Weeping Peninsula produce are vital to the maintenance of the wall that separates Limgrave from the rotted Caelid. Not only is our Lord Godrick in Limgrave and our fellows in the Weeping Peninsula counting on us to hold Castle Morne, but all of the Lands Between NEEDS Morne to save them from the spread of the rot! We will NOT fail them!

"Remember this. In us we carry the blood of kingdoms older than the Erdtree! We are the only people to have breached the walls of Leyndell, going toe to toe with the full might of the Golden Order!

"We are the fringefolk of Morne! Those who refused to give in even to the indomitable might of Godfrey! We stand in the very castle where the Revenger fought the Golden Order to the very last man! Some measly menials will not overcome us!"

The crowd in the courtyard and soldiers on the battlements let out a roar. Edgar stayed quiet and let the crowd and soldiers express their defiance as over a thousand voices echoed out over the battlements, no doubt reaching the misbegotten in the ruins of Castletown. He let them continue for a minute before he started speaking again.

"People, I ask that you stand firm for Morne. Able bodied men who have the courage to fight, speak to Knight Major Crann standing over there on the right side of the courtyard to join the defense. He will direct you what to do next."

John looked and saw that it was the same knight who had fought at the entrance to Castle Morne and had used that storm blade attack to allow his men to retreat.

"Everyone else, artisans, women, children, you can still contribute. Armor needs to be repaired, meals need to be cooked, the wounded tended to, and many other things. Speak to the steward of the castle standing over on the left side of the courtyard.

"Now, I will return to directing our forces to crush this rebellion."

Edgar put his helmet back on and marched back to the door he entered the courtyard from, his escort of knights following him.

With his exit, the crowd began rumbling in conversation as people began heading to either the Knight Major or the steward. John and the rest of the men of his unit turned to Carth. Carth gestured for them to follow him as they began making their way back through the castle. As they walked Carth began giving them a brief.

"After listening to the intelligence and advice of Knight Major Crann, Lord Edgar in his capacity as High Marshal has decided on what our forces will do.

"You heard Lord Edgar speak of the misbegotten and their savior, the red-haired misbegotten? Knight Major Crann had an informant who was delivering information on the misbegotten rebellion that was killed in the initial attack. Before his death, that informant told Crann a number of things, but what was relevant to our orders is this.

"This 'Savor' is a large and powerful red-haired misbegotten who is leading this rebellion. Once he is killed the misbegotten will break as their fervor comes from their belief in him. The misbegotten's only strength is numbers, and now that our forces are no longer spread out across Morne and their surprise has already been sprung, the advantage the misbegotten held has disappeared.

"There are a number of locations that the lookouts on the ramparts have spotted that large groups of armed misbegotten have been defending since the initial attack.

"We believe that one most probably has the leader while the rest doubtlessly hold other things important to the rebellion such as wherever they keep their smuggled weapons or food supplies looted from the town.

"Units made of three twenties will be joining up and attacking these enemy locations simultaneously tomorrow. Our two twenties will be joining up with the twenty of another Knight. Our objective is a particular level in the bottom levels of Clifftown that is heavily defended.

"While our forces are sallying out of the castle, the remaining defenders will be pulled back to better concentrate them to prevent any counterattacks from breaking through to the castle itself.

"Once we join up with the rest of our unit I will brief the rest of the men."

John's thoughts swirled in his head.

This was it. His first real battle. There was a very real chance of him dying.

Despite this, fear did not overwhelm his mind. In fact, it was less a flood and more of a slight trickle. Sure, the thought of being attacked made his heart rate speed up and his breath heavier, but his mind wasn't plagued by fear of what was to come.

It was for the same reason that John hadn't panicked back when he had first arrived in the Lands Between. Either something would happen or it wouldn't. How he felt about it or what might happen didn't matter. Fear and worry and anxiety over what was to come were pointless. Either something happened or it didn't.

Either he would die or he wouldn't. John wasting mental energy on emotions about what-if was pointless, and the will was better spent on actually doing something that would actually affect the outcome.

And any unwanted emotions that persisted despite this way of thinking about things John could lock away.

But that was just how John thought about it. He had gathered from his early childhood that most others didn't think about things quite that way. They couldn't just turn it off like he could.

They made their way back through the castle to where the rest of their unit. Once they arrived, the men who had stayed reported to Carth that the lookouts had spotted some misbegotten moving around below in the lower levels of Clifftown but nothing else had happened.

Carth gave the men there the briefing about their objective tomorrow and started giving orders about who would sleep when so they would all be as rested as possible for their assault tomorrow as well as other preparations.

While he did that, John took his first real look at the rest of his unit. There were around forty men. About half of them had the greying skin that showed that time had withered them into hollow shells of their former selves, while the rest still had their vitality.

The grey skinned 'hallowed' ones had an awareness, but it was limited. Like someone utterly focused on a task and unable to think of or consider anything outside of that task. John could tell they heard and understood, but they were more like fleshy automatons than people, their faces not changing at all and they could only speak in grunts or other noises, no words.

The other half, those that still had their vitality, wore grimaces of dread or smiles filled with teeth looking forward to the coming fighting when Carth gave the news that they would be sallying out to fight.

After Carth was done briefing and ordering the men he turned to John.

"John. Your lack of training is not acceptable. We'll be going through some drills and training to prepare you as best we can. It will only be a day, not nearly enough, but it is all we have. You need to be able to properly use that shield and hold the line. I'll be excusing you from any other duties today so you can focus on training."

And that was exactly what Carth did. The man, half more as large as a regular man like most of the men in banished knight armor John had seen, began training John by having John show Carth some strikes with his partisan spear. John did his best and performed a few thrusts, swings, and strikes.

"You clearly have some amount of practice with a polearm, John. You hold it comfortably enough. But you are little better than a levy with two weeks practice at the moment. Watch."

Carth performed a series of strikes. John watched as the strikes, the footwork, everything seemed to seamlessly flow from one movement into the other, like cursive writing. John's own demonstration had been very stop and start, like writing in print.

It was like comparing someone who knew how to type at 60 words per minute and someone who poked one key at a time. The difference was blindingly obvious.

"We won't be able to instill years of practice into you in a single day, but I can show you how to do things properly and show you the martial technique you should be aiming to achieve."

John spent the next few hours being shown how to move his feet and body weight around more effectively along with a handful of strikes to practice. How to properly hold stances and their strengths and weaknesses.

None of these was particularly hard to understand or perform. It was ingraining them into muscle memory to do them quickly and without thought that was the hard part.

Carth had John practice for hours, most of it with John on his own while Carth came back occasionally to make sure John hadn't accidentally started practicing something wrong, which happened a couple times. As he practiced, groups of men delivered the supplies Carth had requested by up in Castle Morne.

Thankfully, John was in excellent shape from his active hunting and hiking lifestyle that had been further refined by the larger amount of practice he had put in as he and Kalé had spent over a month traveling the roads since they had left the Church of Elleh.

While Carth was off doing other things and John was practicing alone, Carth had a footman come over and teach certain things to John.

"The smallest unit is a five of men. A five is made of five men, one of who is the fivier, the leader. Four fives made a twenty which is led by a twentier, making for a total of twenty one men in a twenty including the twentier. Five twenties make a hundred with a hundrier. And ten hundreds make a thousand and thousandier."

"Is there anything above a thousand?" asked John.

"No. Why would there be at that point? Lord Godrick has somewhere close to fifteen thousands of men, and he has one of the largest forces in the Lands Between, only rivaled in numbers by the capitol and the Margott the Veiled Monarch.

"There is still a chain of command between thousandiers, but it works like it does between twentiers when they are grouped up into a combined unit. The one charge is the one with the highest rank, like a Major above a Lieutenant.

"Fivier, twentier and the like are not military ranks. It is their position in how the men are organized. You could have a twenty of Knights led by a Knight Lieutenant twentier. You will actually see that in the heavy cavalry."

The footman explained a lot more of the stuff that was involved with being a soldier of Godrick and Edgar. Military ranks, a soldier's duties, maintaining equipment, daily routines, certain rules about things you were and weren't allowed to do like what is and isn't considered a bribe, all sort of other details a soldier would need to know. Even taxes!

Most of this information was worthless to John because he was only with them until the rebellion was over.

Once he was satisfied that John knew how to properly practice and improve his spearmanship, Carth then went into how to instruct him in how to properly use his shield, which was much simpler. There was still technique to it of course, but it wasn't nearly as complex as how to wield a polearm.

Unlike when he was practicing using his polearm, Carth actually sparred with John to help him learn how to use his shields better. Well, if you could really call it a spar.

Carth used his massive body to easily overpower and bully John. Him throwing John around like a grown man with a ten year old as John tried to defend with his shield.

And Carth with his banished knight body wasn't extremely tall and buff like men back on Earth, using the mountain from Game of Thrones or professional wrestlers as examples. The proportions were wrong for that. They were more like a regular man but scaled up by an extra half, rather than an exceptionally tall and buff man.

As John was thrown around, some of the men started watching and laughing, having a good time throwing good-natured verbal jabs at John. As these spectators built, Carth had the men replace him and take turns going at John. John usually lost, but each time he lost, the next opponent would have just a bit more trouble.

As he did all this training, John paid careful attention to his shoulder, but the wound was healed up enough at that point that it didn't impede his functions or reopen more than ooze some blood. That one sip of crimson tears had really taken care of the worst of the injury.

John finished out the last quarter of the day with two of the men as they practiced marching in lockstep with their shields raised and holding the line.

After nearly an entire day of practice, John's body screamed at him and his energy was at rock bottom. When he could barely hold his shield up again, Carth returned.

"You have done excellently today John. I believe you have some amount of martial talent. If you really train hard for a few years you may become good enough to have Lord Godrick knight you, give you a good suit of armor. Of course, it won't be as nice as mine."

Carth rapped his own elaborately embossed armor and laughed at his joke.

Being reminded of Carth's large body once again and how his armor was different from the knights in Limgrave like Torrin, John had a question pop into his mind.

"Sir?" John began between huffs. "Why are you larger than most men?"

"You have none as large as me in your homeland?"

"No."

"How surprising! I am this size because of my bloodline. Like many in this peninsula and many in Limgrave, I am of the Fringefolk, but not just any fringefolk.

"Long ago, before the Erdtree grew and conquered the Lands Between, there were many different kingdoms throughout the continent from the Mountaintops of the far north, to Mount Gelmir, to the tip of the Weeping Peninsula.

"Even if we had our own internal divisions and kingdoms like the Golden Order does, we were sister and brother peoples, and we were the lords of much of the Lands Between before the Erdtree. You can see it in the old roads that span from Leyndell to Caelid. We were, are, very different than the sorcerers of Raya Lucario and the followers of the Erdtree.

"My size is because I am descended from a line of those former kings and nobles who ruled in that distant, distant past. Those of impressive and powerful lineages often are of larger size than those of mundane blood."

John's eyes lit up. Kingdoms before the Golden Order!?

There was very little to nothing John had seen about the time before the Erdtree. Only some vague references to something called the Crucible. Besides filling in a hole in his knowledge of the Lands Between, John was also just interested in the history itself because history was one of his favorite subjects.

"Really? The fringefolk? Can you tell me more about them, and those kingdoms you talked about."

Carth proudly nodded his elaborately embossed helmet, eager to share about his heritage.

"As the Erdtree rose to power, they spread across the lands conquering to place all under the purview of the Erdtree. There are those who refused to convert to worship of the Erdtree and those who refused to convert and who refused to submit. Those peoples of those former kingdoms, nobility and peasantry, that refused to give into Goddess Marika and Lord Godfrey were captured.

"Once their conquest of the Lands Between was complete, all those who refused to convert to the faith of the Erdtree or exiled, banished, south to the lands farthest away from the Erdtree: Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula.

"Those who refused to submit to rule were stripped of everything and sent to penal colonies, to be watched over by the blood of our conqueror, the first Elden Lord Godfrey.

"Those who submitted to rule but did not convert, like my own line, were still banished, but swore ourselves to Godfrey's line, and we kept our noble status, though not our former lands, and were granted lands in Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula instead to helped the Golden Lineage in their role as wardens.

"The exile prisoners of sufficiently noble blood were watched over by the Golden Lineage itself in Stormveil, the former stronghold of the Storm Lord who had been the strongest of our peoples, and those of us who swore ourselves to the Golden Lineage presided over the exiles lesser than those of Stormveil, the more minor nobles and the commonfolk.

"All of those brother and sister peoples of the former kingdoms of the Lands Between who did not convert to the Erdrtee faith, both those who did and did not submit, are now known as the Fringefolk, our peoples' individual names having faded to time.

"And just like our names, the line between warden and prisoner has long since blurred and faded for all except the oldest of those who lived in those ancient times. We all now take pride in our shared history as those who resisted the might of the Erdtree to the last. Even the sorcerers of Raya Lucaria had given in eventually."

That was incredible to learn to John. It had always been clear that something was going on with the banished knights, or he guessed he should say fringefolk knights now.

This was absolutely fascinating to learn. It helped John understand why everyone in the Lands Between practically exalted Godfrey as a god of warfare. He hadn't just beaten the giants, he had taken on basically an entire continent at once and won.

"Can you tell me more about these ancient kingdoms?" John asked.

Carth shook his head.

"It has been far too long. Which kingdoms exactly and what their domains were have been lost to time for most who were not of Limgrave or the Weeping Peninsula originally. This means most lines do not know their former domains, including mine. I do not know if there are any fringefolk left who know. Most are distant descendants of those who lived during that time, including I.

"I can tell you that those who wear the heraldry of the storm hawk on red are from the line of the Storm Lord who ruled most of Limgrave. My own line, who's heraldry of a pillar of dragons on red as you can see, we have lost the knowledge of our former domain, and are content with our new lands.

"Those who have the heraldry of the wolf-bird on green or on red or any other heraldry have lost their history over time as well."

That disappointed John because he was really interested in finding out more history pre-Erdtree. It was interesting in general, and it may give him a clue into some of the secrets in the Lands Between, like where Marika was from.

It was too bad Carth didn't know more about that, but there was something else Carth had mentioned he was interested in.

"You said your people do not follow the faith of the Erdtree?"

"Those of us that remember our people's heritage don't. Our own faith has been slowly dwindling. Here in the Weeping Peninsula our faith is still strong even among the peasantry. I would say that most of the peasantry in Limgrave no longer follow our faith but that of the Erdtree instead, but even in Limgrave those with noble blood do. "

"What is your faith exactly?"

"We are the loyal vassals and descendants of the Ancient Dragons. The living gods of the world and the ancestors of all life. We worship them as ancestors and as our gods.

"Our faith in them is rewarded with allowing us to tap into the power of the ancient dragons, lords of the skies, and commune with the sky. It is for this reason we cannot imbibe the fruits of the Erdtree like crimson tears. To do so would bring us away from the ancient dragons, from the sky, and towards the Erdtree.

"We call upon the strength of the sky. Most only can achieve the most basic form of the sky's fury: the storm. The strongest of us, a rare few individuals, are able to call upon the power of blizzards, rainstorms, and even thunderstorms.

"However, our faith in the dragons and that the Erdtree aren't completely incompatible, or even necessarily opposed.

"Just like the ancient dragons with their golden flesh, Marika's flesh and blood is gold and that of her children is as well. Just like how the ancient dragons are the children of the Goddess of Life and the first Elden Lord, Dragonlord Placidusax, so is the Golden Lineage the children of Goddess Marika and her first Elden Lord Godfrey.

"This ties into how time has proved us submitting to Godfrey was correct and why our loyalty to the Golden Lineage endures. Godwyn the Golden was able to slay Gransax, broker a direct peace with the ancient dragons as equals and brothers and sisters, befriended many of the ancient dragons whom he fought, and learned how to directly manifest the lightning of dragons.

"It is proof that the Golden Lineage and the Ancient Dragons are kin."

"That is absolutely fascinating. Could I learn to summon storms like you?"

Carth laughed.

"Faith is not nearly something so fickle and shallow. One cannot call upon forces greater than yourself without true passion for it.

"You have also already supped upon the Erdtree's bounty, crimson tears, and we are in no position to make arrangements for a purging ritual."

"Even if I believed you had such passion, there is also the matter of aptitude and time. You do not have enough of either to learn to commune with the sky properly and do anything while the dregs are in rebellion. You are much better served in improving your marital skill at the moment.

John resisted the urge to sigh. It couldn't just be that easy, could it? Just do a rain dance and be able to shoot lightning out of the bottom of his feet like Commander Niall.

"Okay. You mentioned a cleansing ritual. What are some of your practices?"

John and Carth spent a few more minutes talking about the fringefolk faith such as burial rights. The minor details of it were interesting to John, but they weren't nearly as incredible as getting a peak at some history from before the Golden Order.

They kept talking till a soldier called out that dinner was finished, and Carth ended the conversation.

"It has been gratifying to see someone not of the fringefolk interested in our heritage, but time waits for none save the Dragonlord. I can see that you have trained yourself to exhaustion today. Go mess with the rest of the men and then retire for the day."

John followed Carth's orders and immediately went to join the twenty of men who were going to eat while the other twenty stayed ready to act in case the misbegotten showed themselves.

Afterwards John finally laid down in the bedroll he now knew how to get thanks to that footman teaching him how and was asleep instantly.

______________________________________

AN:

I realized while writing this chapter that Godfrey is the Chuck Norris of the Lands Between, and the Fringefolk are the Texas of the Lands Between.

The terms 'fivier', 'twentier', etc. are riff on IRL historical medieval military organization terms from England.