“How have you never had a hangover before, Frances?” Timur asked as their cart trundled down the Great Southern Road.
“I just never did! Stop asking, Timur,” Frances snapped. Wincing, she buried her head in her arms.
Timur slowly offered Frances a flask of water. “Sorry, I’m just—”
“I know,” Frances hissed, but she accepted the flask of water and whispered a thanks. “Thanks, Timur.”
“You’re welcome. I do wish I had a spell to cure hangovers,” said the prince.
Frances frowned. “I don’t think there is such a spell.”
“What spells don’t exist simply haven’t been invented yet, or just were lost,” said Timur in a sage tone.
Pursing her lips, Frances considered that and found that she rather agreed with it. Someone could invent a spell to cure hangovers. It just hadn’t been created yet. Or the spell simply needed to be discovered. Her tired mind suddenly jumped.
Did that mean that someone could recreate song magic? Rediscover a power that could defeat the Demon King?
Shaking her head and then wincing from the ache, Frances sipped more of her water. It was a question for another time.
Timur crawled up to the cart seat. “Okay, Aloudin, you can take a break.”
“Hmm, I think you should stay in the cart today, Your Highness,” whispered the orc.
Frances and Timur glanced at one another. “Why’s that?” the prince inquired.
“We’re nearing the Academy for Magic now, and with us so close now, we cannot risk being discovered,” said Aloudin, glancing at some passers by. “So it’s best for you to lay low and just keep your faces hidden.”
“I think that’s a very good idea, captain,” said Frances, now feeling rather glad that she’d listened to Timur. Said prince wasn’t so happy however, he sat in the cart, smile gone, a bit of a scowl on his face. “Timur, is everything alright?” Frances whispered.
“Oh, yes. I just… don’t like being cooped up.” Timur steepled his fingers. “And I’m nervous about seeing Morgan again. We’ve exchanged letters but… well, she’s probably heard about my defection at this point.”
“Olgakaren is with her, though. She could have explained what happened,” said Frances.
“And what if she hasn’t? What if Morgan hates me now?” Timur shook his head. “I mean, I know we’ll find out when we’ll find out, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Shuffling closer to Timur, Frances leaned against him, not sure what else to do to make him feel better. The trogre was doing his best, but she could see the smile on his face was merely a facade trying to cover his worry.
She had to distract him, and an idea came to her.
“Timur, I remember that you’ve studied and travelled all over Alavaria. Can you tell me the story about your favorite place in the kingdom?” Frances asked.
The trogre’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Oh? But I have so many favorites. I mean there is Minairen and Queen Dara’s Hill—” Timur blinked and glanced at Frances. “Wait, were you trying to distract me?”
Frances averted her gaze sheepishly. “Yes.”
“Well it worked because I have… so many favorites.” The trogre snapped his fingers and quickly rummaged into his back. Pulling out his notebook he flicked through it at a speed that only someone with six fingers on both hands could do. Frances watched him, entranced at the intensity Timur read through his neat writing, and wide-eyed at the detailed landscape sketches he’d made on the worn pages.
Until he finally stopped and practically pushed the notebook into her face. “There! Kallistos. The old capital of the Goblin Empire, or if we’re going by what they called it, Rittaira.”
Blinking, Frances found herself confronted with what looked like a massive curtain wall, with a single gate. The wall was interspersed with square towers that in Timur’s illustration, flew banners off walls that were even higher than that of the curtain wall they protected. What was unusual, though, was that this structure sprang from the mountain face.
“I’ve never visited Kallistos, but I passed by it’s northern gate. The one that guards the entrance into Alavaria,” Timur babbled.
“How big is the wall?” Frances asked.
Timur muttered a quick calculation to himself. “Sixty meters I think. The towers are seventy meters tall. What’s important, though, is what the walls are guarding. Behind those walls was an empire built inside a mountain range.”
“I thought the Goblin Empire conquered almost the entirety of Durannon before the Otherworlders were summoned for the first time,” said Frances.
“They did, but they started in Kallistos. Before Alavaria came to being, all the species that make up Alavaria lived in separate tribes. The goblins were the weakest of them, if the most numerous. The only land they could claim was the craggy mountains of the Pekara Mountain Range that divides Erisdale’s valley of Kwent from Alavaria. But these mountains sheltered the goblins. There were valleys for crop-growing, a maze of caverns and water-carved caves for shelter, and plentiful deposits of iron, gold, copper and other precious metals and jewels. Before long, the many communities of goblins inhabiting the mountain range started to join together, building tunnels and roadways that linked them all together so they could trade and travel.”
“They dug through the mountain range?” Frances asked, blinking owlishly, as Timur flipped to the next page, showing a hand-drawn map of where Kallistos was in relation to Kwent.
“At the time, goblins used slaves, often fighting one another or raiding other species to capture slaves. So they had labor, time, and a desperate need. This need intensified when warfare started to break out between individual tribes of goblins. Caves and tunnels serve both as useful transportation routes and good places to host increasingly growing goblin armies,” Timur explained. “Sometime about three hundred years before the first Otherworlders were summoned, though, the goblins united into a single state under the Breakspear Tribe and their ruler Chief Athelda who became Empress”
Timur tapped the picture of the wall again. “She had a problem, though, despite the wars, the goblins had swelled so great in numbers that there wasn’t enough growing space in the mountains to feed them. So she did two things. First, she unleashed her hordes onto the nearby states. Kwent became their first possession, then the Alavari heartland and on and on her armies and that of her son Kairon conquered. As her armies marched, smashing scattered, disunified city-states, taking land, enslaving as they went, she also started the construction of the of the Greenway, a massive highway, wide enough for an army to march through, with a high vaulted ceiling, lit and ventilated by clever shafts cut into rock. It was called the Greenway, because it was decorated with cave moss and as much plant life as they could cram into there. Apparently they did so to try to deal with the stale air.”
“That must have taken years,” Frances murmured, trying to imagine such an underground tunnel.
“It did, and it took thousands of slave lives. Despite that, Athelda didn’t live to see it completed. However, it turned out to be a very smart move. The Greenway united all the scattered goblin settlements in the mountain range and allowed the goblins to move their soldiers and supplies between their possessions. It was a weak point, but then again, that’s why the goblins built walls to guard it,” said Timur. He turned the pages again to the map of Kallistos. “Over time, two major cities sprang up near the northern and southern entrances of the Greenway. Kairon Aoun and Atheda Aoun, which literally means Kairon’s city and Athelda’s city.”
“I’m guessing the goblins gathered there because it was close to the entrances to the Greenway?” Frances asked.
“Yes. The fact they were closer to the entrances allowed for the two cities to serve as administrative centres to both sides of the goblin empire.” Timur pointed to the northernmost’ city. “Kairon Aoun would become the primary residence of the imperial family and also where their army was based. This was because the goblins preferred to wage war against the disparate species that made up Alavaria. Not many natural barriers to impede their army’s progress after all. Athelda Aoun became a major commercial and industrial city due to its position close to the fertile valley of Kwent. It’s said to also have this beautiful underground lake that’s open to the sky through a great crevasse.”
Frances smiled. “That does sound very pretty.” She pursed her lips. “Then… why was Kallistos and its cities abandoned? I’m guessing that has to do with the Goblin Empire’s fall?”
Timur nodded. “Mm hmm, though, there is a lot of debate over why the Goblin Empire fell, Frances. We know the first Otherworlders were a factor, but with our records mostly from the Alavari perspective, it’s really hard to get an idea of what was the most important element in the empire’s destruction.” The trogre prince’s tail started to twitch, his brow furrowed in thought. “If you ask me… Kallistos’s decline was to an extent, set up by the Goblin Empire’s success and their brutality.”
“You’re talking about the slaves, right Timur?” Frances asked.
“Yes. Slavery might have seemed effecient to them. You have labor that you don’t need to pay money for, that you just need to feed. Except, in order to allow slaves of other species to actually carry out their tasks underground, the goblins had to build everything larger. That required more slaves which meant the goblins had to keep maintaining a larger army to keep them in line, but that also meant that they needed more housing for it, which meant more buildings, which meant more slaves.” Timur took in a deep breath. “The Goblin Empire needed to continue expanding for its survival, and not just because they needed more slaves. At this point, Kallistos was a mega city unlike the world had ever seen and there was nowhere near enough arable terraces in the mountains to sustain it.”
“Wait, but didn’t they have the labor force to build more terraces?” Frances asked.
“Good question. The thing is that they did, but there are some cliff faces too rocky or stony to be built. With winds that whip too hard for plant life to survive. Places where you can’t sustain a community because it’s too hard to get to. Kallistos had in a sense, become the victim of its own success.” Timur smiled. “And this is when the Otherworlders and King Alan, the first king of Alavaria come in.”
“Hold on, how do the Otherworlders fit in?” Epomonia exclaimed. Timur and Frances looked up at the centaur, who looked away. “Sorry, I… I’ll go away.”
Forcing the nagging jealousy in her heart down, Frances stammered, “Wait. Epomonia, I don’t mind you listening, or asking questions.”
The centaur continued to trot beside them, head bowed. “But… but you do. I… I mean who wouldn’t? I… I really shouldn’t be hanging around you two. I mean, Timur is yours now.”
Timur’s eyes widened. “You… you still have feelings for me?”
In spite of how wary and apprehensive she felt towards the centaur, the anguish that flitted across Epomonia’s face was enough to make Frances’s own heart ache.
“Of course I do, Timur. But… you’re happy now, and I’m happy for you,” the centaur croaked. “Ending things between us… I shouldn’t have, but… well I was never brave enough and you being the prince? I… I… I just wasn’t sure.”
Timur stared at her. He looked like he wanted to break into tears right there and then, and Frances immediately held onto his hand, lacing her fingers with his.
She still felt a cold anger towards the centaur. Yet there was a stronger feeling, of sympathy and of understanding.
Frances took a deep breath. “Epomonia, you… you were just a maid, though. I don’t think you were wrong to be afraid then.”
“Frances… I…” Epomonia winced. “Maybe I could have, but I think we both know what I should have done. If… if I had been a bit braver, more like you, maybe I wouldn’t have done what I did at Erlenberg, and maybe it would have been me beside Timur.” Blinking back tears, the centaur looked away, but to her credit, she didn’t flee.
“We don’t know that,” said Frances firmly, not only to Epomonia, but to the despondent Timur, who she fixed with a glare. “We don’t know what could have happened. We… we only know what did.”
Timur wiped his eyes. “But… what if I could have—”
“Timur, you keep telling me that you don’t care that my parents hit me, right?” Frances demanded.
The trogre blinked, as Epomonia’s eyes widened and even Aloudin whipped his head around.
“Yes but—”
“Then why are you so worried about what could have been between you and Epomonia?” Frances asked.
Timur clasped Frances’s hands in his own. “Aren’t you? I… Frances, dear, I know how horrible this looks. It isn’t fair to you and—”
“Life hasn’t been fair to me, Timur and I’m fine with that,” Frances hissed. She exhaled slowly. “Because you… you still love me, right?”
Timur nodded. “With all of my being,” he whispered, and in that, Frances could hear the surety in his tone. She could also hear regret too, directed at the teary-eyed centaur beside them, but that was more than natural.
After squeezing his hand, Frances entangled her fingers from the trogre’s. “Good, let’s… let’s talk later okay? I think we all need a break,” she said.
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There wasn’t much space to separate. Frances took the back of the cart. Epomonia continued to trot beside them.
Timur found himself sitting next to Aloudin up at the front of the cart. He badly, badly wanted to turn around and apologize to Frances, but for some reason, he also got the sense that that wouldn’t be wise, at least at the moment.
“How long have you and F—Tia, been dating, Theo?” Aloudin inquired.
Timur thought back to the end of the peace conference and blinked. Had it only been a month ago?
“About a month and a week, but our first date was about a year and a half ago. We… we had an argument, and I was wrong. I just didn’t see it,” said Timur.
“Only a month? You seem rather close, though,” said Aloudin.
“Well, we’ve been lucky enough to know each other for four years. It’s a long story. We just didn’t have many opportunities to get to know one another in that way.” Timur thought back to the village in Leipmont and smiled. “But I think I liked her, even on that day.”
“Ah, but I guess since she wasn’t around, you experimented,” said Aloudin arching an eyebrow.
Timur glared at the orc. “I didn’t realize I liked her that way. Or at least… I don’t think I wanted to admit it.” The prince bowed his head. “Not until I was fifteen. There was a fight, a moment that Frances nearly died because… well, partly because of me.” Timur wiped his eyes. “At that moment, I realized that I didn’t want her to get hurt. That I cared for her more than than… than my father, than most would want her to. I’m sorry, this is really weird for you isn’t it? Me of all people, falling in love with her?”
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“Not at all,” said Aloudin lightly. As Timur blinked, the orc leaned in closer. “I think Tia and you have a really good partnership going. You support one another, you try to watch out for each other’s weaknesses, and most importantly, you both care deeply for one another’s wellbeing, and you both realize and appreciate that.”
“Do you really think she does? I mean… after all of this? With Epomonia involved now, it’s just so awkward,” Timur spluttered.
“I think F—Tia means it when she says she doesn’t care that you had a relationship with Epomonia. She seems to be a person who very much tries to live in the present. If you are concerned, I’d suggest showing her that you do love her, and that your feelings for Epomonia are very much in the past.” Aloudin’s smile faded. “Unless they aren’t.”
Timur froze. For a second, he doubted and questioned. He wondered what might have been, and whether he was truly happy with Frances. Yet, as he imagined himself, he found the answer to be clear. He found himself shaking his head, a new sensation of certainty creeping into his chest.
“No, they are. I want to be with Fr—Tia now, and for as long as possible.” He sighed. “I do regret what Epomonia and I might have been, but I love Tia.”
Aloudin nodded. “Oh that I understand. Epomonia… she’s been through a lot since you last met, but I think I can guess why you and her were together. You both are very… similar in character. Innocent youngsters caught up in the mess of the last generation. Both trying to find someone to be intimate with when the world seemed too harsh.”
The prince’s eyes widened. “How…”
“Hey, I’ve known Epomonia for a year now, give me some credit,” Aloudin laughed. “That and she talked about you. Nothing too private but she did tell me what she had hoped for. You know she doesn’t blame you at all, right?”
Timur nodded sadly. “I know. I… I’m trying to accept that.” He pursed her lips. “How about F—Tia and I? What do you think we have?”
Aloudin shook his head. “I don’t know you and Tia as well, Theo. I know you’re worried about how you are treating Tia, but I don’t know if I can offer you any helpful advice.”
Timur nodded. He understood. In fact, he appreciated the orc’s candour. Yet, he couldn’t help but beg. He never had felt so worried and unsure about what was going to happen next.
“I understand but… can you please make a guess?”
The orc sat silently, quietly guiding the horses as they trundled forward. His eyes ahead, a deep frown furrowing his brow.
“It’s like… you’re both always dancing,” said Aloudin in a slow, his tone almost reverent. “Always trying to anticipate what the other is going to do, always trying to cover for each other, and yet moving quite closely in sync. It’s not perfect, but if you ask my humble opinion, if you work hard, like any dance, or relationship for that matter, you’ll get there.”
Timur smiled “Captain… thank you, it means a lot.”
Aloudin returned his smile. “I know, sir.”
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Frances read over the journal entry she’d just completed. She hadn’t had much time to journal of late and she’d had a very strange dream last night, which she was re-reading to herself. It might have just been the wine, but she’d dreamed she and Timur were splashing in a swimming pool back on Earth. He’d even lifted her into the air and leapt off the edge, holding her as they cannon-balled into the water.
This had been an extraordinarily strange dream because until Durannon, Frances had always been held back or skipped the Physical Education classes where she’d had to swim. Her parents hadn’t wanted her bruises to be revealed.
She and Timur had never even swam together before. It did seem like a great idea for a date, but… well, it didn’t seem right to suggest that until they rescued Morgan.
“Fr—Tia, I know I don’t deserve to speak to you. You’re a mage and I’m just a centaur, but if I may can you please—”
“Epomonia.” Frances looked up from her journal, saw how much the centaur was trembling, shut her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Sorry I interrupted you, and you don’t have to address me so formally. Just tell me what you want.”
“But you’re, well…” Epomonia lowered her voice. “You’re the Stormcaller!”
“Yes,” said Frances in a mild tone. “But I think things are awkward enough between us already without titles being involved, Epomonia.”
The look the centaur gave Frances was one she’d seen from many humans in Durannon. Ever since the Siege of Erlenberg, people had started to treat her with a reverence that was just uncomfortable. She had to admit that her new fame was certainly helpful in getting Alavari to surrender, but in situations like these, all Frances could do was bite her tongue and let the people around her get over themselves.
“Sorry, I… um…”
“I’m not what you expected, right?” Frances inquired, unable to keep the boredom from her voice. She’d heard that one before. “Too small?”
“No, I knew you were small, but I didn’t know you could be so loving,” said Epomonia. The centaur winced. “I mean, earlier when we first met, and at Erlenberg… you looked so frightening. So in control of yourself, and so easily able to figure out what’s right and wrong.”
Frances frowned at the centaur, not sure if she followed, but nevertheless she sat and listened, waiting for Epomonia to get to the point.
“Well, um, when you’re with Timur, he seems more at ease than he ever was. He laughs more, smiles more and just… looks happier. So well, I wanted to ask you to forgive Timur’s feelings for me, please. He loves you and he’ll do anything to make you forgive him.”
Narrowing her eyes, Frances sighed. “Why do you both think I need to forgive him? There’s nothing to forgive. Yes he still has feelings of regret about what happened, but I know he loves me.”
Epomonia blinked. “That… but that makes you angry, doesn’t it?”
Keeping a vice-grip on the turmoil inside, Frances nodded. “Yes, but that won’t stop me from loving him. Why should that stop me from loving him? I know he didn’t cheat on me, or plans to cheat on me.”
“You don’t… want anything from him? Or even me?” Epomonia asked.
“No.” That was a lie, but Frances quickly focused on the truth she wanted to say. “I just… I just want him to be happy, and to make him happy. I don’t need him to do anything. Just having Timur in my life is enough for me.”
“But… Frances, Timur wronged you, at least, I know he sees it that way. I mean, he should have put me aside completely and yet he didn’t,” said the centaur.
Frances looked up, eyes narrowed at Epomonia. A faint twist of dismay beat in her chest as she saw, the centaur looked away, trying to hide herself behind long black hair bound up in a practical bun.
“I’m sorry, Epomonia, but what do you mean?” Frances asked softly. “Why should he have just put you aside? It’d hurt him.” She swallowed. “Epomonia, I… I don’t like you, but I know Timur needs to reconcile with you and I… I want him to do that because it will make him happy.”
The centaur looked up, eyes wide. “How… but wait, you really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Frances asked.
Epomonia took a deep breath. “Um, well … in Alavari culture and society, you and Timur are of almost equal societal rank. He may be a prince of the Greyhammer Dynasty, but you’re a Named Mage, with her own epithet at an incredibly young age. We Alavari value personal accomplishments a lot, and… well, in a committed relationship like yours, Timur… he has certain responsibilities.”
“I don’t understand, what responsibilities?” Frances asked.
“With a partner of your prestige, Timur should be faithful to you, and that includes in heart and body. Not only should his eyes not wander, he should not think of any other past match,” Epomonia explained.
Frances’s eyes widened. It made sense now why Timur seemed so torn about even having Epomonia around, and it also, to some extent, explained why he’d been surprised by her acceptance. Still…
“But that’s absurd.”
Epomonia sighed. “It kinda is, but that’s how seriously relationships are taken. Only… you’ve barely even scolded Timur and well, you know how he is. The more you tell him not to try to fix something, the more he tries.”
“There’s nothing I can ask him to fix, though! I don’t need him to push you away or do anything other than just… be him and to love me,” Frances stammered.
The centaur stared at Frances, her coal-black eyes wide.
“But there is something, isn’t there?” Epomonia asked softly.
Frances turned her back on the centaur, forcing herself to try to bite down the searing, coiling anger that turned her stomach. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling what she was. She didn’t have anything personal against the centaur. Epomonia just slept with Timur, and still loved him, and the pair clearly still cared for one another. But it wasn’t like Timur was cheating on her now so why was she so angry at her and at Timur?
Besides, what she wanted was ridiculous, no, it was kinda cruel. It wasn’t going to be good for Timur, or for Epomonia. It was entirely driven by personal reasons and as a good person she had no business to demand such a thing.
“There is something, right? What is it? Tell me, please. It doesn’t matter what, just… don’t be mad at Timur anymore, please,” Epomonia begged.
“I…” Frances shut her eyes and began crawling to the front of the cart. “Timur. Can we talk, now.”
The trogre was back in the cart in a flash. “Dear? What’s wrong?”
Frances’s hands were shaking, and as Timur quickly held them, she shut her eyes, trying to hold her feelings back in.
“I… I don’t know how to start.”
“You know you can tell me, right?” Timur whispered.
Frances met her boyfriend’s black eyes and swallowed. “Are you sure?”
As he nodded, her shoulders sagged and she pressed her head against his chest.
“I… I’m sorry. I’m just… I am angry at you about this whole thing with Epomonia,” Frances croaked. “I’m annoyed she still loves you. I want her to just go away, and back to Erlenberg and apologize for what she did in front of the memorial. I hate that you both already had sex, which I’m not even comfortable doing that with you yet! And I hate… I hate…”
She wiped her eyes, holding onto Timur, and just so glad that his arms were still wrapping around her shoulders. And as she met his eyes again, there was only understanding. Sadness was there, but he was still there for her, listening.
“I hate that I’m angry with you! I don’t think I should be feeling this, but I am, but I shouldn’t be because you… you and Epomonia were happy. I want you two to be happy. Maybe even friends, but it hurts me to see you together when it’s still so obvious she still likes you and you haven’t said no! Except it isn’t your fault, this is just a screwed up situation and it wouldn't be fair for me to be angry at you, but I am!” Frances cried. Shaking, trying her best not to grab Timur too hard, she sobbed into his shirt.
And yet, Timur only continued to hold her, rocking her silently.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” he croaked. Timur drew her even closer. “Thank you for telling me this.”
“I’m sorry too,” she sobbed.
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Timur hated how he couldn’t do anything as Frances cried in his arms. Though, if he was being honest with himself, he hated that he had in some way caused her to feel this.
The fact that Frances didn’t blame him for his fondness for Epomonia, and wanted him to still be friends with the centaur just made it even worse.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked. Frances had stopped crying and was sitting, holding him with one hand, wiping her eyes with the other?”
“Yes. I…” she sighed. “This all could have been avoided if I just told you what I felt.”
“Maybe, but you were trying to help me, in your own way,” said Timur.
“Yes, but… Epomonia kind of told me something I’ve been forgetting. If something’s not right, you try your best to fix it anyway,” said Frances, smiling sadly.
Timur swallowed. “That’s… well, I don’t always do that.”
“Timur, you still feel bad about what happened at the peace conference,” said Frances. She said it so gently, yet the pointed words sent a shiver down Timur’s spine. Unable to deny that, he just sat, trying to figure out what to say.
Frances shuffled closer to him. “I’m at fault too, Timur. I wasn’t being honest with what I felt, even when you were trying to help me. I also didn’t understand how important romantic relationships are in Alavaria.”
“I could have explained that to you,” Timur stammered.
“Yes, but I should still have been honest. Not… not that I want to demand you to do anything, but I should have at least told you what I felt,” Frances said.
Timur nodded, still holding Frances’s hand.
Frances had told him what she’d felt, without forcing him to do anything. It… she still trusted him, still loved him.
But now it was time for his part.
“Frances, can you give me a moment?” Timur asked. He leaned in, and she nodded, allowing him to kiss her gently on the cheek. “I’ll be right back okay?”
“Mm.” Frances kissed him back and smiled as he moved back down to cart, to where Epomonia silently trailed them.
“Hey Eppie. We…” he sighed. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
The centaur wiped her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I… I’m happy for you. I really am, but I know you love Frances.”
“Thank you for understanding, Epomonia,” Timur said. He smiled. “I… I may love her, but we can still be friends, if you’d like. I mean as long as you… you understand how things stand between us.”
Epomonia smiled, blinking back tears. “I know. It… it may take some time, but I won’t try to change what we have left.”
“That’s… that’s enough for me,” Timur stammered. He swallowed, his mind back to walking by the river, and to nights spent talking for hours before falling asleep in each other’s arms. They were good nights.
And yet, as he thought about them, he was now imagining doing those same things with the slender brunette human behind him, and doing new things.
“Thank you for understanding, Epomonia,” he said, with feeling.
“Thank you for… for giving me another chance,” said the centaur. She stuck out her hand, impulsively and Timur took it, giving it a firm shake.
It was the end of one chapter, and yet, as Timur turned back to Frances, he felt his heart warm at her satisfied smile.
“So… where were we?” he asked, sitting down beside her.
Frances shuffled closer to him, and at her nod, he draped his arm over her shoulders. “We were talking about Kallistos, and um, Epomonia asked a question about how the Otherworlders fit in. You were going to answer it.”
Timur blinked, not sure what his girlfriend was implying. As he stared, Frances coughed and turned to look at Epomonia.
“Epomonia, you can listen,” she said, in a cool tone, but to Timur’s astonishment her smile was warm.
The centaur blinked, stared at Frances for a moment, but when the mage nodded, she cantered up. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Frances nodded, and Timur, overjoyed, squeezed her, surprising her with a kiss just above her ear. He laughed as she squeaked at that, her smile all the wider.
“Right, so we were at King Alan and the Otherworlders. Alan was an orc slave of the goblins, but he used to be a warrior for an orc tribe. We don’t really remember his original last name, but we do know the dynasty he founded was called Goldenboar. He began what started as a slave rebellion, using guerilla tactics and his own magical skill to win victories. But his followers were still very much alone, against the might of the Goblin Empire.”
“So… not like the stories,” said Epomonia in resignation. “I guess what we were told was mostly just exaggerated.”
“Which stories are you talking about?” Frances asked.
The centaur sighed. “Well, in our folk tales, Alan apparently led those that toppled the Goblin Empire. They kind of leave the Otherworlders and humans out.”
“Yes, but the actual scholarship and contemporary accounts don’t. We know for a fact that Alan had a human wife,” Timur explained, much to Frances and Epomonia’s surprise.
“Wait what?” This was Aloudin, who had turned away from the horses to gawk over his shoulder. “He had a human wife? I thought he married the ogre, Yalisa, who crowned him in what became Minairen.”
“King Alan had two wives. Yalisa the Red Queen, a troll magician like Alan, who reportedly enchanted the Great Crown that bears Alan’s name. However, the person who carved the crown, and who all subsequent Royal dynasties are descended from, was Moragon. All three were once fellow slaves and the contemporary accounts suggest that they were in a mutual relationship with one another.” Timur smirked. “In fact, the chronicler Jonathan, a member of Alan’s court, recorded an account of Yalisa and Moragon both being handfasted, with King Alan presiding.”
“Huh, but… why—Oh, right, she’s human,” said Epomonia, grimacing.
“I’m more surprised why her name has survived until now,” said Frances.
Timur frowned. “I’m not certain, but I think it’s because it is through Moragon’s line that all later Alavari rulers are descended from. If my father denied her existence, he’d be denying our own legitimacy.” The trogre pursed his lips. “Right, where was I again? Ah yes, well, I mentioned Jonathan the chronicler. Jonathan the chronicler was once Jonathan the Otherworlder, he was summoned to this world by a desperate ceremony performed by Alan and his rebels, along with Archon Nimlen, the ruler of the city that would become Lapanteria. Three hundred Otherworlders arrived and they banded together with the Alavari and remaining free humans to fight the Goblin Empire.”
“According to Jonathan’s account, the war itself was long and brutal, but a combination of factors allowed the slaves and remaining free humans to triumph. To put it shortly, the Goblin Empire had too many long borders to defend. Slave rebellions were occuring within. The entirety of what became Alavaria was united against the Empire and with the Otherworlders rallying the humans of the south and west, the goblins just couldn’t be everywhere at once. Slowly, and then more quickly, victories began to mount up, until the Goblins were forced back to Kallistos itself.”
“The less defended city of Athelda Aoun fell first as Jonathan and the Otherworlders had taken Kwent and used their foothold in the valley to launch an assault that pushed the goblins out. Meanwhile, on the other side of the mountains, the newly crowned King Alan led the Alavari in an assault on Kairon Aoun. He broke through the other walls, but was stymied in the caves. However, Jonathan and the Otherworlder’s arrival allowed Alan to make the final breakthrough. At which point, they managed to seize the imperial palace and execute the Goblin Emperor Olairon, ending the empire.” Timur closed his notebook. “But with the city sacked, and Alan setting up a new capital in Minairen, the freed goblins that remained in the city didn’t see a need to stay in Kallistos. Most left Kallistos to follow King Alan or settle in small communities of their own. Many have ended up with the harpies because well, goblins have hands and harpies don’t. Remind me to tell you about the symbiotic relationships between the goblin clans and harpy aeries Frances.”
“Oh I will,” said Frances, rather engrossed. “But… about Kallistos, so nobody tried to resettle it in the… thousand years since it was abandoned?”
Timur shook his head. “There have been attempts, but as the borders started to solidify, Kallistos became less of a city and more of a strategic point of contention. It became always stuck between Alavaria and the human kings. The tunnels, thanks to being abandoned, have fallen into disrepair. There are some communities that live on parts of the tunnel network, but they tend to be on the Alavaria side of the Pekara Mountain range. The only part of Kallistos that has ever been maintained on a regular basis is the Greenway.”
“Huh, though, that makes sense. I mean, it does connect Alavaria to Kwent,” said Frances thoughtfully. She glanced at her boyfriend. “Timur, where we’re heading to isn’t too far from Minaira, right? Is it possible we can use Kallistos and the Greenway as a way to get back to Erisdale?”
Aloudin cut in. “No way. The outer walls of Kallistos are heavily guarded. We won’t be able to sneak through.” The orc paused. “Unless… you have an idea, T—Theo?”
Frances noted that Timur was indeed, deep in thought, his tail flicking side to side. “Well, I visited a town two weeks from Kallistos. Its residents claim that it has a tunnel to the Greenway, but I’ve never seen it. That and the locals told me that few have actually navigated to the Greenway from the town itself.”
“Wait, but what if we could?” Epomonia asked.
“It still would be a bad idea as it’d take us even deeper into Alavaria,” said Aloudin. “From where we’re at, it would be safer to head back using the Great Southern Road and trying to make our way through Gestoch.”
“Which is difficult at the best of times,” Frances mused.
Epomonia frowned and whispered, “I thought you and the Lightning Battalion got out of Gestoch just fine, Frances.”
Frances winced. “We had a battalion, lots of horses, and I… I was at a hundred percent. I’m not right now, and I know I won’t be for some time.”
It was a morbid statement and a silence settled over the group as they trundled with the cart along the highway.
“Timur, thank you for telling us the story,” said Frances, squeezing the trogre’s hand.
“Thank you for listening.” The prince brought her hand up and kissed the knuckles. “You were a very attentive audience.”
Frances giggled softly and shifted herself so she’d be more comfortable. She hoped that there would be more stories that she could listen to from Timur. If everything went well, then maybe there would be.
At least, she hoped that things would go well.