Zolta stared in disbelief at the bloody treasure he held in his hand. The gory prize of triumph, of breaking the back of the marauders he had pledged to the gods he would slay. A battered, mangled arm and hand of iron. The sign he had done the deed. He had killed him. Gottfried von Bärlichingen. The master of raiders. The Lord of the hedge knights. The Prince of misrule. The defiler of cropland. The thief of lives. The wrath of chaos. The savage. He. Götz of the Iron Hand. No more would his iron fist order raids to take the stores and lives of ordinary farmers to feed his blood-thirsty hordes. He would not hold it oppressively over what poor serfs he held as slaves to his demands. His core of raiders had fled when the Carpathian wolf, against all odds, survived the brutal onslaught of lesser brigands and the almost invincible bear, roaring his savage assurance of victory. Almost invincible. The lank, agile wolf had defied the savage strikes and crushing blows, sword sliding past the iron hand, through the armor, to put Götz down, laying out his titan form in the oozing mud outside the farmland he had intended to despoil and empty.
But that was the fixation of a moment. A curiosity laid aside for a more pressing matter. A living spoil of war. Götz and his men had little drive to harvest but did maintain serfs. And one of those had been with him, an unusual one. Her body, her look, it all was so unusual. Alien. But not unpleasant. The rabbit was... strangely defiant, and he had seen her celebrating during the fight, speaking strange words as he fought and slew Götz. Her story, when it could be told, would fascinate him, enrapture him. Tales of a distant island nation, of a strange tongue and strange ways. Her land had been at war, a war of mighty kings called Daimyo for rule of a land from whence the sun rose. In the chaos and struggle of war, no one noted if serfs were taken and sold off to those on the land. Her luck had been terrible, with her beautiful coat seeing her passed from the peninsula into the Middle Kingdom, and with the camels and fennecs on the silk road, a commodity no less than silk and spice. From those spice markets into the iron hand of Götz as a novelty and agricultural slave. She knew how to cultivate and grow many things, including a novel method for growing an ancient grain the Hellenes retrieved from the Indus valley.
But with Zolta, she would never need to touch soil again. She could leave aside her peasant robe and her wooden hoe. When he freed her, he knelt to her. And she bopped him on the head. That was the beginning. She learned his Magyar tongue and she preserved, with the help of scribes, her spoken Nippon, and what few characters a peasant needed to understand. Her family had no real name, but she called herself Usagi Mizu, before she, to her own shock, became the Lady Mizu, wife of várnagy Zolta, even if he was a wolf and she was a rabbit. Because above all, he was a hero, and he displayed the iron hand of Götz to prove it so.
"Well... it's not the true family history but he would have wanted it, it would seem." Bela smiled at the little slideshow he had made and turned to Ame. "The part about Götz is true, his iron hand is still at the family castle. We charge to see it, does good tourist business." "And it allows us to match. In service to a greater good." Ame said with a bucktoothed grin, braces shining. "And with this, we can save our voices explaining." "Alright, we're meeting Nuka and Kaho in half an hour, let's go." Happy Halloween! Ame and Bela here in the it Hallowvest outfits. Bela as his ancestor Zolta the Carpathian in the casual attire of a Hungarian noble, and Ame in the attire of a Japanese peasant. Ame and Bela are mine Art by 4pcsset
4pcsset
