By now, he had become the center of attention. Even Hagen, despite how tired he looked, had his attention on John. So much for trying to not be discovered. To be fair, she knew him better than anyone else.
John grabbed the helmet by the sides and pulled it off his head, revealing his face, his skin. Lanard showed no reaction other than a raised eyebrow. Hagen and Athalia, on the other hand, didn’t look happy at all. Rass looked like he had some things to say, none of them pleasant, but Lanard’s warning prevented him.
Athalia was the first to speak and in a very loud voice. “You damn idiot, you could’ve died!” Emotions flashed through her face, anger was the clearer one, but there was also genuine worry in her eyes. “How did you even manage to sneak into the army?”
John didn’t want to snitch on Marleya and cause trouble for his knight. He scrambled for a convincing answer when the Olsandre lord spoke again.
“So I take it you’re both familiar with one another.”
Athalia paused, recalling that they weren’t alone. “Yes, he is Marleya’s squire.”
“Oh yes, your knight, I recall her. I’m sorry for what happened.”
His words sent a chill down John’s spine, who promptly looked at Athalia for an explanation.
She sighed. “During the fighting, one of the enemies managed to hit her in the head with a mace. I healed her after everything settled down, but it took a long while. The brain hemorrhage stopped, but we won’t know if she’ll make a full recovery until she wakes up again.” Athalia frowned again. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be here. Marleya is a Paladin and even she was knocked unconscious. Had it been you, it would’ve blown your head off instead.”
John had to agree with the last part. Before today, he never expected that Vasilis would have the forces for something of the sort. To him, and so many others, this would be a long but ultimately safe affair. The mass graves being dug outside were proof of how wrong they had been.
“This seems to be a personal affair, so I won’t try to act like I’m involved,” said Lanard. “But let me just thank you for what you’ve done today.” He patted John’s shoulder. “If not for your actions, many more good men and women would’ve died today.”
Hagen and Athalia seemed to disagree, both still clearly upset at him for being there instead of the safety of the castle. John was already thinking about how to apologize to them when a man in full plate armor, another Ashen, marched into the tent.
“My lord, we’ve finished counting up the prisoners and there’s one person of importance among them.” He gestured to someone on the outside. Two soldiers walked into the tent, each holding the arm of a rough-haired man to drag him along.
The links of his chainmail shirt showed signs of rusting, while his neck had a shallow cut still oozing blood. His face was covered in dirt, but not enough that he couldn’t be recognized.
“Well, well, well,” Rass finally spoke again, a sinister grin on his face. “If it isn’t the eunuch’s first and only spawn.” He walked around the large table at the tent’s center so he could stand face to face with Vasilis’ son.
Devran, for his part, kept his head high, staring back at the earl in clear defiance.
“Now, how about telling us where that coward father of yours ran off to and I grant you a quick death?”
Devran responded by taking a deep breath and spitting on Rass’s face.
Lanard pushed the earl back before he could lash out and possibly kill Devran for the insult. “Have you searched him?” he asked the Ashen.
“Yes, my lord. He didn’t have any other crystals on him.” The man opened his hands, revealing a small piece of folded paper. “But he did have another one of these letters in the old tongue.”
“Another letter we can’t read, you mean,” Lanard said with a frown after taking the paper from the guard's hands and unfolding it. He then pointed its contents to Devran. “What does it say?”
Devran said nothing.
Lanard didn’t try to hide the letter, and John was able to catch a glimpse of it. Today we shall make our attack— Just like years ago when he and his mother handed similar letters to the baron. This old tongue was actually English.
Lanard tried again. “Your attack failed. We have enough forces to continue our searches, and the supplies to last us a long time. Your father will be captured eventually, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Tell us where he might’ve run off to, and I might consider pardoning some of your companions.”
Again, no response.
Lanard sighed before turning around. “Rass, this is your last chance to prove your worth. Find out what everything you can from him.”
“Gladly,” the earl spoke with an evil smile.
“Don’t lose track of the objective. We need information. You can do whatever you want to him afterward. Now get on with it.”
Rass immediately left the tent followed by the soldiers dragging Devran along.
Lanard sighed again. “Lady Athalia, how much longer can we actually stay here?”
“It’s hard to say. A lot of the supplies were destroyed during the attack. This will be somewhat offset depending on how many people died as we’ll have fewer mouths to feed. I should hopefully have a more accurate number by tomorrow.”
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“Come find me as soon as it’s done then. If that’s all, you’re dismissed—”
“Wait, my lord, I can help,” John spoke out, hoping that the duke’s uncle wouldn’t mind the interruption. If these letters were important enough that they might lead to Vasilis, then he refused to do nothing. “I know how to read the old tongue.”
Everyone looked back at him. “And how would you know that?” Lanard asked before Athalia could speak out.
“I learned it from my mother,” John went with the first lie that came to mind. No one would believe it if he started talking about reincarnations and different worlds. “I don’t know how she learned it, but she taught it to me before passing away.”
From the look on his face, it was clear that Lanard, or anyone else for that matter, didn’t believe him.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “That letter that was found on Devran. I caught a glimpse of it, and it said how they would be attacking today. If you show it to me again, then I’ll read the rest.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as Lanard stared back at John as if studying him. “Fine, I’ll indulge you,” he said, presenting the letter again.
John didn’t waste any time. “It says, ‘Today we shall make our attack. Win or lose, just know that I love you. And don’t forget, the Dragons are not to be trusted.’”
There was a look of surprise on everyone’s faces that immediately turned into a frown towards the end.
“Does it actually say Dragons?” Hagen asked, finally saying something.
Before John could confirm it, Lanard grabbed him by the gauntlet and pulled him towards the center of the tent. The Paladin had a death grip on his hand, and John suspected he’d be able to crush it, armor and all, without much effort.
He let go as they arrived at the table. The Paladin then grabbed a small wooden trunk from atop the table and opened it, its lid preventing John from seeing inside. He pulled something from inside, another letter. “The first line, read it to me,” he said, placing the letter practically at John’s face.
John did as told. “Patrols are intensifying and I fear that it won’t be long until we’re discovered,” he read out loud.
Lanard placed the letter back in the chest and pulled out another.
“Supplies have been restocked and we have enough to last a couple more months.”
And another.
“Joyous news. Keila has just told us that she is pregnant with Crow’s child.” Knowing that the letters were probably taken from rebel outposts, John felt somewhat disturbed. The young couple was likely long dead.
Lanard placed it back on the chest and pulled out another one. “Just this one more and I’ll believe you.”
“Patrols are intensifying and I fear that it won’t be long until we’re discovered.” John completed with, “This is the first letter from the chest.”
Lanard nodded before placing it back on the chest and the chest back on the table. “Either you actually know how to read these or you’re an excellent liar.” He glanced at the pieces of guard’s armor still on John’s body. “Both, probably.” He then picked the letter found on Devran. “Dragons, you say?”
“Yes, my lord,” John answered with a nod. “They mean the Olsens, right?”
“Either the Olsens or the Tilens from Scunthorpe, and I somehow doubt that a House with a single barony on the other side of the kingdom would have the resources for something of the sort. If what you’re saying is true, this would explain how Vasilis got the resources and manpower to make this attack.”
“But what did they have to gain by aiding Vasilis?” Hagen asked, unsure. Athalia looked pensive as well. The matter of John sneaking into the army had taken a backseat by now.
“That’s what we’re going to find out. Lord Hagen, lady Athalia, whatever punishment you might have in store for the squire will have to wait.”
So much for the backseat.
“Starting today, he shall be tasked with translating every single one of these letters.” He gestured to the Ashen still standing at the tent’s entrance, the same one who brought John to the main tent. “Ashen, you’re to follow John at all times. Protect him and also make sure that he is doing his job.”
“Yes, my lord.” The Ashen saluted.
“You’re all dismissed then. Now I need to inform the Duke about this.”