The Way of Caine ,The Warcaster Chronicl - By Miles Holmes Page 0,14

stories high, built alongside the old lighthouse. With a deep breath, he began the long stair climb to the ramparts above. Bulky as his armor was, he had long since grown accustomed to it, and did not begrudge the long stairwell. Three seasons had passed since his meeting with Rebald, and under his mentor, the venerable Lord Walder Brigham, the armor had certainly been put through its paces. Caine counted at least a score of skirmishes in his time with Lord Brigham, nearly all against raiders from the Scharde Islands west of the harbor. Twice, there had been pursuits with Khadoran scout ships, persistent to test the resolve of Cygnar’s coastal vigilance.

What there had not been was any word from the Scout-General. Since their deal, he’d been asked to keep a journal of the ships at harbor, and no more. A courier for Rebald had come to fetch it each month, but there was never more to it. He began to think the bargain had been forgotten entirely.

Caine cupped his hands to his breath for warmth, and looked out beyond the horizon. He wondered where the Dog was headed, and for his own part he wondered the same.

Nearing the summit of the old stone stairwell, he was passed by army trenchers coming on shift. At the rampart preceding the top of the tall keep, he heard a familiar and irascible voice boom down.

“Allister! Come here lad!” Despite himself, Caine smiled up at the old man.

At the mast of the Cygnaran flag more than fifty feet high, Lord Brigham took his morning tea. From gorget to sabaton, his elaborate armor gleamed, nearly to distraction, and his long black fur-lined cloak flapped in the wind. Creased as leather he was, white-haired, as ancient as his armor, and equally well preserved. A hero many times over in days past, now surely on his last tour of duty. A smile was never far from his lips, and indeed, he grinned wide as Caine crested the last step.

“Which ship is that?” Lord Brigham asked, as he pulled his neatly trimmed white beard and watched.

“Impudent Dog, sir.”

“Ah, yes. Whaling out beyond the Scharde the next six months, I’d hazard to guess …” the old man’s attention drifted out over the water. Caine stepped to the edge of the stone railing, and looked to the fishermen below as they emptied their catch onto the docks.

“Allister, you’ve been a good student.” The old man mused, his attention sharply returned. Caine looked up from the docks, surprised, and turned to face his mentor.

“Before you arrived, I had been warned you would be difficult. Your time here has certainly not been without incident, has it?” Brigham asked.

Caine nodded, fighting the urge to smirk as Brigham continued. “Yet during this time, I have also witnessed your blossoming talent to wage war. With but a pair of pistols, you have grown formidable. In you, I may well have taught my finest pupil.”

The elder warcaster put his tea to his lips, pensive.

“But there is another part to this. If I were to be blunt, well, there’s a darkness that gnaws at you. I’ve seen it in others, friends lost over the years. Believe me when I say that you will make your peace with it, or it will consume you. This would be a tragedy indeed, for there is more to you, son, than you let the world see.”

Caine unaccountably felt his cheeks flush. He looked away, embarrassed. “Sir? Why are you telling me such things?”

“Because I won’t be able to tomorrow.” The old man laughed, sipping his tea.

Caine’s eyes widened in concern. “Are you alright, sir?”

“Yes, Allister. You however, are not. You’re leaving in fact. I put the paperwork in a week ago, and it has returned this very morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your apprenticeship. It has ended. You are to be re-deployed to the first army in Fellig next week.” The old man chuckled, in response to Caine’s surprise. He looked as though he had forgotten something.

“I wanted you to have something,” Lord Brigham reached into the folds of his cloak, and produced a small, polished brass artifact on the end of a chain. With a kindly clap on the back, he pressed it into Caine’s hand.

“Never forget there is a dignity in this life, Allister. Morality too, though we are often called upon to do terrible things.”

Caine nodded, seeing the old man was retracing his own past as he spoke. “Never forget this, should you wish to honor just what