The Netheron Chronicles by Joseph Black (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📕

grassy trail, through the sparsely wooded valley, and, at last, there came into sight the outer buildings of Carmenton: Carmenton was a small town, only a few hundred people living there, it was built on a hill, a fair sized fort at the very top, towering over everything, watchful, and dangerous, the houses arranged disorderedly about it.
The houses about the edge of the town where dirty, run down affairs, falling apart, leaking, and filled with poor starving families, but as one went further into the town you encountered the houses of better off merchants and shop owners. Houses made of bricks and heavy logs, with gardens and healthy atmospheres, brought about by the great prosperity the owners enjoyed.
On most days the small meadow beside the town was empty, but today wasn’t just any day, it was the day of the Harvest Festival, a yearly gathering of all the farmers and townsfolk from the surrounding land; today they had pitched dozens of tents in the meadow and already the people could be seen pouring in, mostly farmers in rough wagons, their produce with them, planning to sell what they had grown that year tonight.
They came out onto the main road, the thumping of the horses’ hooves on the grass turning to a clacking as they hit the paving stones on the road; their pace quickened and they soon where trotting through the town, buildings towering on either side of them, people running about, laughing, singing, and otherwise merrymaking. Tauren sighed, the townspeople didn’t accept them in any way; they fell silent when the two of them passed, he could smile to them and nod, but they would only return with blank stares.
They had no place here.
But there were a couple houses in the small town where they were welcome; namely, the homes of the soldiers from the fort, Arrels for the most part; men, like them, who didn’t belong in Carmenton, or Netheron either for that matter, they too where outcasts in a foreign land, but they formed their own group of friends, and companions, that was separate from the townsfolk, a group that Tauren was proud to be part of, tight knit, and close as it was.
The Arrels where good men, honest, honorable, loyal, and friendly, but they were different, on the outside they looked like normal men, but there was something about them that just made them feel different, it was rumored among the villagers that they dabbled in black magic, but then again, the same thing was rumored that Tauren and his grandfather did the same.
They were what Edrin called ideal soldiers, specially picked by the Arrel king for their special traits and abilities.
But Tauren trusted them, and he knew Edrin did too.
A few minutes later they stopped in front of the small house surrounded by a well-kept flower garden, right down from the fort, where the Lieutenant of the guard in the town lived, a particular friend of Edrins.
Edrin silently jumped off of T’hune and stepping through the garden gate walked over to the small log house and knocked, Tauren followed suit, jumping off of White, and holding T’hune for Edrin.
A few moments later they heard footsteps in the house, and the door swung open; there stood Lieutenant Marlan Darreck, a tall man; towering over Edrin, long black hair falling about his wide shoulders, and careful brown eyes watching what happened around him with an intensity that seemed to burn the life out of everything, he saw Edrin and smiled widely, embracing the old man. He had been expecting them.
“. Good afternoon, Edrin.” He chuckled. He glanced up at Tauren and nodded to him, Tauren nodded back.” Come on in.” He stepped to the side and held an arm out for them to inter the tiny, two roomed building that was his home.
Edrin nodded to Tauren.” Why don’t you go stable the horses up at the fort?” He suggested, grinning up to him, Tauren nodded silently and turned away, leaving the two men to enter the little house while he led the horses up the stone road that led up to the wooden walls of the fort on the hill.
He had only gone a few dozen yards when he heard Marlans voice call to him, he turned back toward the cottage, Marlan stuck his head out of a window over a bed of flowers.” Would you call the off-duty men down here? We might as well have our own good time while the rest of them are having theirs.” He waved at the meadow from which already could be heard the sound of singing and laughing.
“. Sure.” Tauren called back, turning and continuing toward the fort.
The forts massive log walls towered above him before he knew it and a moment later he knocked at the sally port in the wall; a moment later a piece of steel in the door slid to the side and a pair of hard, grim eyes stared out at him, a kind of eyes that a person would only find on an Arrel in those parts.
Perhaps they recognized him from maybe casually meeting him on the fort grounds or the surrounding town and lands, but it only took his name to give him passage through the thick walls, past the thick, heavily armed and armored guards on either side of the door, across the hard packed grounds of the fort, and into the misty, dark, but clean stables.
Edrin had worked hard to make his name one that any Arrel would hear and see a friend in, and to his great credit, he had broken past the hard shells of the warrior-like people, and could honestly say that many where his close friends.
Tauren decided he was proud to have them as friends as well, as he unsaddled the horses in the stables; no, he was honored to have them as friends, anyone would be.
Finished with the horses, he stopped by the massive brick barracks on his way out, leaning into the dark doorway, called cheerfully.” Hoy, all off duty men to the Bunker.” Using the nickname for the Lieutenants house that the soldiers where fond of.
He didn’t wait for an answer, knowing the men would come in a moment; and turning, trotted through the sally port, nodding to the guards, and back down the hill, through the empty streets, to the little cabin surrounded by flowers.
He glanced around; taking in the glare of orange and yellow from the sun as it set over the distant mountains; the sound of music from the meadow to his right; the empty, darkening streets about him; and the silent smile on his lips as he considered that he had it pretty good in life. In a way.
He turned and stepped into the large living room of the small cottage; glancing around he quickly saw Edrin and Marlan over at the fireplace in a corner, tossing armfuls of vegetables and spices into a huge kettle boiling over the crackling flames of the hearth.
They didn’t even seem to register his entrance, seeing as their conversation didn’t even pause, so he silently went to a corner opposite them and sat down in a chair, leaning against the rough pine walls, listening to the conversation and musing over his thoughts.
He soon found himself paying a bit more attention to the conversation in the far corner than he intended to though.
“Nc’Dutu’s orders where to pull out three weeks ago”, He heard Marlan say quietly,” A lot of soldiers have already left, but since we’re so remote the townspeople haven’t heard about it yet.”
“That’s insane”, He heard Edrin say angrily,” Completely defying Arlons Treaty, he knows it, Clasheron can’t be supporting his orders though, and I know him well enough to know he’d never go against a dead friends wishes.”
He would’ve betted that Marlan nodded but he wasn’t looking, as he answered.” That’s part of the problem”, He heard him say.” The archdukes, Du’Renskold and his supporters mainly, are beginning to say that Clasheron is taking personal matters over duty these days, they’re challenging his authority, and after TriPrand things aren’t looking to be in his favor. His supporters are turning against him; even Herensword says that protecting Netheron is threatening Arreland. Things aren’t looking good for our present king.”
Edrin sighed in exasperation.” But this isn’t some personal matter for Clasheron; Arlons Treaty was a political agreement-.”
“. Yes.” Cut in Marlan.” But all the events leading up to it where deeply influenced by Arlon and Clasherons friendship.”
“That’s crazy. Du’Renskold was just as much of a friend of Arlon as Clasheron, he - “Edrin began angrily again.
Marlan cut in again.” I know, but Du’Renskold values his men’s lives too much, and of course he doesn’t believe that the living should owe the dead anything.
Edrin nodded thoughtfully.
Marlan tossed a casual glance at Tauren sitting in the corner.” Let’s not talk about it now, shall we.” He suggested.
Edrin followed his glance and nodded, continuing with his work in silence.
There were only a few moments of that still silence, and then Edrin spoke up again.” So you’re not leaving? “He asked, glancing up at his friend.
Marlan smiled.” No, I’m not; my allegiance is to Clasheron, whether he’s king or not, not to any of his enemies, especially Nc’Dutu.” He chuckled.” After all, I can’t let you and Tauren get hurt, can I?”
Just then there was the sound of a dozen feet on the stairs outside, mingled with laughing voices, and the door burst open admitting a dozen Arrel warriors from the fort.
All were still lightly armed and armored under their white cloaks embroidered on the chest with the red Arrel dragon; they all had eerily similar looks, and all where muscular and well balanced of course, as every warrior was.
But each one of them had the same clean shaven, blue eyed, black haired, faces, and all of them where of practically the exact same height (Somewhere above six feet).
Tauren had often wondered about this curious fact, a fact that had given him constant frustration in placing the right names on the right man, something that was practically a skill in itself with them.
He knew it was part of that curious thing about the Arrels that made them so different form ordinary people, but he hadn’t ever had the nerve to ask one of them about it.
The men swarmed into the room, greeting Tauren, Marlan, and Edrin happily, and taking their seats all over the room on chairs, the table, or the rough pine floor boards.
Tauren found himself talking about his past few uneventful weeks with two chuckling Arrels named Durune and Nc’Ayel, two older men whom he had known for longer