The fiefdom of Noghia had at its heart an average-sized castle. It was a minor power in the region, a noble’s land that would pay its tithes to the monarchy. The larger country was united only in name, Cliestros, connected only by the occasional call to arms by the reigning sovereign to do battle with this or that nation. The nobles would do as asked, and throw their fodder into the fight, but otherwise did mostly as they pleased, fighting amongst themselves and jockeying for power.
Lady Hipen of Noghia was one such noble, the current owner of Noghia’s average-sized castle. Deep inside her ornate chambers, in her den of iniquity, the stunning and powerful noble poured over a map of the region. Few entered these chambers, and as was per the course, fewer still lived to tell about it. Ever focused on her duties, the proud lady kept maps and records even in her bed chambers. Noghia was relatively close to the border with their rival country, Weastra. Noghia was not often sought after for resources or warm bodies. It had unique resources at its disposal. In the latest skirmish with Weastra, under unusual circumstances, those resources would be put into action.
Lady Hipen looked up from her table of maps and records to look out the window. It was a beautiful day outside. She stepped over to the window to look out at the main bailey of the castle. She had to get to the keep soon, the sun was almost at midday, and she had a schedule to attend to.
She flourished her feathered crest, stretched her wings, and bowed out the window. She could not fly properly as the tiny flyers of their world could, but her people could glide. She startled a collection of flyers as she glided down into the bailey of the castle. She walked through the courtyard, admiring her subjects. Soldiers in plate armor with proud rainbow plumage stopped their training exercises. They straightened their wings, stood up straight, and brought their right arms up in salute as she passed by. She nodded to them, and leaned forward into her natural posture, sweeping her wings back and rubbing her hands together. Many other Avians could not even do that, their wings only useful for fancy plumage. But all their people, the peacocks, the hawks, the pygmies, the ravens, could carry weapons, as inconvenient as that was. It would be so much easier if they were as helpless as the little flyers.
That thought brought Lady Hipen’s mind back to Weastra. It was not normally such a threat. Their population and economy had been depleted by recent conflicts and should have been absorbed with the next struggle for power. But three cycles ago, something had changed. Suddenly Weastra was carrying far larger stones than it had been able to in the past. One of the king’s armies had been turned by the inconvenient foes. The forces of other nobles had been challenged and spies had determined that this was no fluke. Aid had come to Weastra in the form of a foreigner. Hipen been invited by her fellow nobles to participate in the elimination of this threat.
Hipen reached the door of her keep and entered as the guards opened it for her. She had limited time to prepare for her guest. She wound her way up through the fire-lit structure of the keep to her throne room. It wasn’t as large as others, she wasn’t that vain. She knew that she had to keep up appearances, of course, but she preferred to spend her funds elsewhere. Nevertheless, what she thought of as plain was still quite stunning and perfect for intimidation. The roof was rare, lightweight, and strong. There were proud drapes to either side. Stained-glass windows lined the top of the walls to either side, dancing with jet-black forms. Her perch was a relatively simple throne with only a few precious gems lining it. A pair of guards stood off to either side.
Lady Hipen settled herself down and smoothed out her plumage and outfit. Advisors materialized from doors that flanked the throne, as well as a distinct figure who remained in the shadows. “Shall we begin?” she smirked, and an advisor nodded. They nodded at two guards close to the large doors opposite the throne. They opened, and a pair of her soldiers brought a lanky creature in. She flourished her feathered crest slowly, and stretched her wings for a moment, before she stood up, lifting her arms off her throne. The black-feathered lady leaned forward into her natural posture. "Ah, the creature from beyond the sea," She announced, "The Casey."
Her guards, wielding shiny halberds and heavily armored, stood almost two heads taller than the creature they escorted. It was a small lanky thing, much like depictions of monkeys from expedition journals in her libraries, as well as in the memories of the explorers she'd met. But whatever this creature was, it was unlike any monkey she'd seen here or there. Instead of feathers, it had only short fur on its head. He wore small ragged clothes, an olive drab jacket over curious pants, and a battered cap, perfect for his hide, but not for a crow. She wondered how it had any warmth at all with so little protection. Its face was flat, with tiny eyes, a small nose, and no beak to speak of. It only had two arms and two legs, instead of two arms, two legs, and two wings.
Hipen moved forward, tilting her head this way and that, her enormous black eyes taking in every detail. Her long beak chirped, "You are a curious one, Casey. The peacocks speak so highly of you, you are their...what was that word?" She placed a hand on her beak. "Ah, their engineer . A lower-class title, to be sure. From what I am told, you have brought new magic to this world, new ways of thinking, and somehow a way for the peacocks to triumph over armies far larger than their own." She couldn't make out many of his expressions, but he looked miserable. He avoided eye contact. Hipen was a little disappointed. Usually, when she captured someone like this, there was some witty repartee. Who of his standing didn't retort to such an insult? "I would think such a beast would be hard to capture. Stopping to help a child? How naive, for such a supposed mighty being. I would not think it would be that easy to trick such a wise creature."
Somehow, he looked more miserable. Hipen tilted her head. Still no reaction. For someone of his standing, this was embarrassing. She leered, "Do you know who I am, 'little demon'? That is what they call you, is it not? Do you know who I am?" He looked up at her with dead eyes. They reflected nothing. Slowly, The Casey shook his head. Hipen smirked, as much as her species could, with a twitch of the eyes and a hand gesture. "We know of your intelligence, your feeble form notwithstanding. We know you refuse to share your vaunted knowledge with your enemies." She swept one wing, "We know your reputation, so we understand this. A tiny kingdom rejuvenated, armies encircled and swept aside, it's remarkable. For such a being as yourself, of course."
He avoided her eyes. This was getting annoying. "We know you will resist. You will refuse to give us your knowledge. That is why I was contacted by some interested parties." She spread her wings, the rainbow at their wingtips matched her crest. "My kind are rare, you see. Few reach my status with my gifts. They know you will not yield easily, and traditional interrogation will not work on one as delicate as you. Therefore, I have been selected to do the job. You say you haven't heard of me, I am Lady Hipen of Noghia...a mind walker ."
That got his attention. Good, she needed that. Walking into someone's mind was a rare talent, and being skilled in it was even rarer. It was a difficult task, not so simple as climbing in a cart. It was like swimming; if one got lost in a current, it didn't matter how strong they were, they could drown. The trick was to remain in the shallows until you found a current you needed. Anxiety was a perfect current. It could be ridden into the rest of the brain without consequence. Stray thoughts moved unprotected by the active mind, shifting all its energy to synthesis and analysis, the generation of plans. It took only one chink in the armor.
The small being looked to either side of her great hall, and his eyes caught on one of her stained-glass windows. There, she could pick something up. That reminds me of…
It was there and it was gone, but it was enough for Hipen to ride into the rest of his mind. What was his land like? What kind of castles were in his land? Hipen rode the stray thought into his mindscape. In her mind's eye, she could see his thoughts.
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It wasn't a castle he was thinking of. It was the remains of a cathedral. It had been blasted to pieces by some immense power. Hipen looked at the memory in horror. It was half the size it should have been, its flanks shredded. The ground around it was churned to mud, like the surface of the twin moons. It was desolate, silent, dead . Hipen stared on in shock. She shifted to another memory, and a sight greeted her. On a wide dark field filled with craters and blasted trees, she was confronted with the silhouette of a fragile being like the one creating the mindscape. It was a monster right out of her nightmares; a large gangly thing with an armored skull, two round soulless eyes, and a trunk that reached down to its stomach. It stalked forward and raised a frightening stick of iron and wood with a blade on the end.
Hipen clasped her hands over her ears as a staccato series of bangs rang through the air. The creature was flung backward, and a jagged line of enormous holes ripped through its chest. Bone and blood went flying. Hipen looked on in horror and slowly turned to face whatever had killed the beast. She looked to see more monsters operating a large metal contraption. The contraption spat beams of fire with a demonic noise, ratatat , ratatat . What is this place? More images swirled around her as she tried to escape. No. No, this can't be!
There was a shrill whistle in the air; a ragged and high-pitched wail swiftly drowned out by the clatter of voices and running of feet. She found herself facing a wave of charging beasts. She put up her arms to defend herself, only for them to run by like water around a rock in a stream. They shouted battle cries and barked orders. Their breath was heavy, undercut with a light hissing sound. Flaming streaks tore holes in the ranks of the running figures. Tremendous explosions shook the ground and threw gouts of dirt high in the air, and still, they came. Hipen willed herself to change the dream, to manipulate it in some way. That only summoned something from the sky. It landed right in front of her and instead of an explosion, an enormous swirling yellow-green cloud bloomed. The creatures vanished into the mist.
Suddenly one stumbled out, hunched over. His chest heaved, he dropped his weapon and made horrible coughing sounds. He hit his chest, where the trunk connected to his front. He tore off the trunk with frightening ease, but there was no blood, only a gout of air. The missing trunk was only a mask? Masks, that’s what they were. It did little to help him. He fell writhing to the ground. He choked and gasped as he tried to breathe, but the very air was poisonous. His eyes bulged with fear, clawing at his clothing and his throat. He gagged, choking and spitting, the sounds like a dying animal.
Hipen turned away. It was as if the captive’s mind was punishing her for her simultaneous fear and curiosity. The screams of the dead and the dying filled her ears. Hipen retched as her nose burned. She could smell something like burned steak and charred flesh. There was the reek of bodies, rotten eggs, and a horrible evil garlic smell. She found herself in a small valley of death, a hollow filled with indistinguishable forms covered in blood and dirt. They wrestled each other, clawing at eyes, bashing each other with rocks, and strangling one another. There were screams in a dozen languages, battle cries, pleas for mercy, and the ever-present cry for one's mother. Scores lay still and unmoving at their feet. As Hipen registered that, a warm repulsive feeling crept up her feet and reached her ankles. She looked down. The hollow was carpeted in mud and blood.
She stumbled backward, falling into the dirt. She cried aloud and struggled to her feet, feeling shapes under the surface as she did so. Hands reached up out of the muck to grasp at her, weeping and screaming, begging for help. Their faces were contorted into nightmares. Their eyes were squashed, jaws ruined, and covered in burns. Hipen shoved off the mental manifestations and scrambled to the edge of the hollow to escape. There were voices above her. She struggled out and found herself confronted with an image like a painting. A line of soldiers with bandages over their eyes following the man in front of them, utterly blind. To one side, a pack animal was still hitched to a cart. It shrieked and whined as it pulled itself forward with its two front legs. Its back was broken. It made lazy circles in the soil, crying in pain.
"No!" She had to find another current. She pulled out of various memories only to find herself in a shell crater with yet another human. Humans, that's what they were. This one was ragged, covered in dirt, but appeared mostly intact. The man did not take notice of her, he just sat there, crying, holding his muddy face under his muddy helmet. "Who are you?" she cried as if through the end of a long tunnel. "What is this place?"
He looked up at her and choked out a single word, “Wipers.” He dissolved into sobs again.
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Hipen finally pulled herself out of the being before her. She quickly patted down her outfit, looking for blood and that dreaded silt. She was clean. She was back in her castle, safe. She looked up at the pitiful creature before her and almost shouted. He tilted his head at her. “My lady?” one of the guards asked.
“Take it away,” She said quietly.
“Uh…”
“Take it away!” She snapped. The guards did as she said, pulling the prisoner along with them. Hipen realized her hands were trembling. She hid them beneath her wings, but could not stop her crest from shaking.
A raven in the shadows stepped forward. "My lady, our benefactors will want news at once. We already transmitted the semaphore signal that we have The Casey, they are expecting information immediately. Are you sure--?"
Hipen whirled on him, "Not one word, you insipid creature ! Not one word, not one order, not one signal! Interrogation is a process, even for one as myself. And you will stay out of business you know nothing of!" She stalked away from the raven spy, to her private chambers. She stormed out of the keep. I have to kill it. I have to kill it!