The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 1795: You Want a Hero? (Part One)

Seeing Baron Loghlan Dunn holding his hands up for silence, the crowd slowly stilled, awaiting the moment that the baron would make the proclamation they’d all come to expect. After all, why else would Loghlan Dunn come out here as the only baron standing beside Lady Ashlynn if it wasn’t because the two had already come to a decision.

Lord Liam would marry Lady Ashlynn, and through her, gain a claim to the throne of the march. It would be enough to satisfy the King’s laws, and the people would have a hero almost as great as Lord Owain to lead them. The knights of Dunn had already been spotted in the streets helping to keep order... This must be why.

The rumors had been right all along... or at least, so the people thought.

"It’s a proud day for a father to hear so many people crying out for his son to be their lord," Loghlan said. "I’m sure Lady Mairwen is proud as well," he said, nodding to his wife on stage.

"I’ve always been proud of Liam," Mairwen said with a broad smile, wrapping an arm around Loghlan as she stepped up beside him. "But I’d rather see him praised for what he’s truly done."

"That’s the hard part of being a father, and of being a lord," Loghlan told the crowd. "Rumors and reputations are useful things, but they have a way of coming crashing down when you find the truth underneath."

"This summer, my son Liam faced a foe like none he’d ever met before!" Loghlan said loudly. "A knight who handed him defeat after defeat while allowing him to think he’d claim victory..."

"Huh...?"

The crowd’s confusion was audible. Hadn’t Liam been fighting demons? What was this about a knight who defeated him?

"Sir Ollie Heartwood, the Cypress Knight. Remember his name," Loghlan said with a chuckle as he turned to look back at the towering manor behind them. "He grew up in this manor you know, and worked in its kitchens until he joined Lady Ashlynn and earned his knighthood the hard way," he said with a wide, toothy grin.

"The villages Liam ’defeated’ had already been emptied by Sir Ollie," Loghlan said. "And the archer who tormented my poor son all summer, wounding his men instead of killing them clean... It turns out he’s one of the most loyal and dedicated soldiers I’ve ever seen, and likely a better hand with a bow than even Baron Erling."

"It’s easy to claim victory when you’ve never even met the other side," Loghlan told the confused crowd. "I only learned later how badly beaten we were. Sir Ollie didn’t even take the field himself," he said with a snort. "He was too busy building homes for his people, keeping them fed, and building them back up from what they’d lost."

"But... but, what about the demons?" someone in the crowd asked. "Lord Loghlan, are you, are you saying that you fought Freeholders instead of demons? That, that there weren’t any demons out there at all?"

"No demons," Loghlan said flatly. "That’s the greatest lie we’ve been told all our lives, and we’ve lost so, so many friends because we were fools enough to believe it," he said, hanging is head low for a moment before looking back up with a fierce glint in his eye.

"I met some of Sir Ollie’s men this winter, heroes, the both of them. His squire has horns," he said, gesturing to his head and miming the curl of the Horned Clan’s horns. "And that fiend of an archer has a tail, but so what? They helped save Lady Cerys’ life, and Sir Ollie’s as well... That’s all I need to know about a man to know he’s no demon," he said, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at the crowd as if he dared them to contradict him.

"Horns... and a tail...?" someone in the crowd said, as if they couldn’t believe what they’d just heard.

"People come in all shapes and sizes," Ashlynn said, taking the opportunity Loghlan had built for her. "Since Owain tried to kill me and buried me in the wilderness beyond the march, I’ve had the chance to meet many of them and to make many friends. Friends who are tired of fighting with the people of the march every year. Friends who are just as sick of endless wars and burying their loved ones as you are."

"They call themselves Eldritch," Ashlynn said, speaking loudly to be heard over the growing murmurs of unease. "And tonight, we will welcome them as guests!"

This time, the noise from the crowd was explosive, but Ashlynn had no intention to allow it to get out of hand. When she spoke again, her voice echoed across the courtyard, resounding from every signpost, rooftop, and doorway that faced the plaza.

"Someone has to stop the fighting!" Ashlynn said, filling her voice with the power to drown out the murmurs of the crowd. "The Lothian line is dead and broken. Their throne has crumbled to dust. Let their constant wars die with them. Tonight, we come together to bury the old hates and build something new."

"I know you’re all afraid," Ashlynn said in a milder, gentler tone. "But..."

Before she could say more, however, she was interrupted by a loud voice from the crowd.

"You’re the one who’s afraid! You killed your husband, and now that no one’s left to fight the demons, you’re giving up!"

"You’re selling us out for slaughter!"

"Bring back Lord Loman! At least he’ll fight for us!"

"The barons are cowards! Hiding behind a woman’s skirts while they surrender too!"

"Fight for us!"

"Who will fight for us?"

"I won’t stand for this! If she won’t fight the demons, I say we fight for ourselves!"

"Cowards!"

"Heretics! The Church won’t stand for letting demons in the gates!"

The more the people shouted, the darker and darker the expression on Loghlan’s face grew, and the expressions worn by Captain Devlin, Hugo, and Sir Elgon were every bit as grim. Still, Ashlynn gestured for them to stand fast.

This moment was inevitable. It was impossible, she realized, to stop this crowd from reaching the boiling point. But now that they had, she waited, watching patiently for the rapidly forming mob to coalesce around a leader or a handful of leaders.

A headless, writing beast could only be suppressed with overwhelming force, and to use that level of force against her own subjects was a line she wasn’t willing to cross. But once the mob began to cluster around the voices that most clearly spoke to the heart of the crowd, she’d have a place to strike...

"Since the lords and knights are cowards who won’t fight, it’s up to us," the man in the leather apron shouted. "The gates of the manor are open now! They have swords and spears and armor. If they won’t use it to protect us, we’ll take it for ourselves!"

"No," Ashlynn said in a voice that echoed across the courtyard. "You won’t."

The rasp of steel against leather filled the air as she drew Water’s Edge from its sheath before leaping over the platform’s railing and onto the flagstones of the plaza below.

"Make a path for me," Ashlynn said, using her gleaming sword to point in the direction of the man in the leather apron.

The instant she moved, the people in the front rows fell back, and everyone who found the clipped tip of her falchion pointing at them quickly stepped aside until there was a clear, empty path more than three paces wide that stretched all the way from her to the man who’d just called for storming the manor.

"In the Eldritch lands, the strongest are duty-bound to protect the weak," Ashlynn said. "If you think yourself strong enough to protect these people, then face me and prove it! Prove you have the strength to rule these lands and fight off any challenger who dares to threaten your people. Prove it or stand aside!"