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Gazing at Sirius - XIII - Call to Arms

As the sun rose above the horizon and the darker skies were slowly being replaced by light blue skies, Herving arose from his slumber and set out without a word towards the 'Pugilis'' residence. He had scheduled the meeting, to the degree that "scheduling" such a meeting reached, at dawn, for he needed no intrusions from others. The information he sought to share with the village leader was highly confidential after all, not meant for a commoner's ears. Herving trudged through the still slightly muddy streets, it had seemed these regions had also been experiencing the torrential downpours of spring.

The hut of the 'Pugils' was rather noticeable, for it was larger than the others. It had an entire extra wing to it, becoming of a leader. He knocked on the door, the guards not protesting his presence nor action - it appeared that they had already been informed of his due visit. The door slowly opened and from behind it, the 'Pugilis' appeared.

"So Ol' Herving has finally come to visit," he huffed. "Ya made us wait quite a while you old fool."

"Who ya callin' 'old' Marshall?" Herving responded with a hearty laugh. "I'm only a little passed by prime."

"Yer damn well of over forty now, yer pushin' partner," Marshall laughed along with him. "Please friend, enter," he invited, Herving obliging. Once inside, Marshall's wife had already begun making drinks and some food for the two, thus the two men sat down at the table.

"Tell me, Herving, what's the purpose of this visit of yers?"

"Well, it's about our conflict with the Clerosoi," Herving began, looking out the window towards the beautiful seas and the rising sun. "We are facing... complicated issues."

"Do go on, friend," Marshall beckoned, as his wife put drinks on the table. Tea that had been traded with the far north, a fine blend.

"Well... It ain't good Marshall... The 'Pugil' is dead," Herving stated, with a heavy heart. "I saw him fall myself, he fought valiantly till the end, but he was overwhelmed by the amounts of men chasing him down."

"I... I see..." Marshall nodded. "May the spirits guide his soul well. So, how is our new 'Pugil' faring?"

"He isn't even 'Pugil'," Herving announced.

"What? How come?" Marshall immediately questioned.

"The 'Mistral' doesn't know of his father's passin'" Herving admitted. "I hid it from 'im. If I had told it to 'im right then and there, the boy would've charged into battle and died. So... we 'left him behind'."

"How's he takin' it so far?"

"Bad," Herving shook his head. "He hasn't deigned to speak much outside of a few words, he's behavin' real sickly."

"I haven't seen anythin' this bad since the fall of Fraudrin," Marshall wore a countenance filled with grief. "It appears we have a lotta work to be done, eh?"

"Aye," Herving nodded. "This won't be an easy task. Though it is not unconquerable."

"Nothin' is if we just bind together," Marshall nodded in agreement. "You take care of the boy's recovery, I shall rally the men of our respective groups behind him. We must then push forth, I will send a messenger to the hillsiders so they're informed. And that they are to meet us here soon."

"That seems like a plan," Herving agreed.