Southold was perched in the crook of the wide gentle flow of the Artifar River, rolling hills on either bank dotted with homes, farms and grape vines. In the warm summer heat laborers gently tended the ripening grapes, carefully pruning the leaf cover to manage the sunlight on the delicate clusters - wine was one of the backbones of Southold’s burgeoning trade. Apiaries dotted the hillside, buzzing between the small yellow flowers of the cover crops planted between the manicured rows of vines.
Val rapped once on the window of Dorius’ carriage, letting him know they were in view, having hung from her footboard for the past few hours of the trip. Only the largest fell bulls were up for carrying her weight, so she chose to not burden them and usually hung off the carriage or travelled by foot.
He knocked back, indicating a command to open the window, which she obediently followed.
The carriage inside was a mess, documents half scattered on the benches and a trunk spilling open with his dress clothes adding to the mess. Dorius had several maps and a journal in his lap, and she skimmed them just fast enough to notice the content appeared to be focused around the Spine. He sulked for most of their travel home within his carriage, partially avoiding Bastian, but likely also still a little shaken. He still wore a scarf around his neck, so Val could not tell how well the red marks had healed.
Dorius ran his long fingers through his hair, obviously frustrated with whatever he was turning in his head, “Get Elias to stop by the Vigil house and ask them if they’d be willing to share any records on the Chapel in the Spine. If they tell him no, I’m just as interested in how they say no.”
Val nodded, and passed the message along to a scout on talon steed, Elias was further up the line chatting to Davern on one of the wagons. As they passed into town, the majority of the procession began to separate. The Company was headquartered out of the western edge of the town, a now sprawling complex of staging yards, bunk houses, stables and administrative quarters that served as the hub for the over four hundred active members. Many of this crew would be keen to receive their pay, return to families and begin to organize themselves for their next work. Only a small portion of the Company, including Val and Bastian, were in Dorius’ permanent employ. A permanent retainer was within his means to support these days, but the Company offered him a flexibility he seemed to favor even without the relationship on his father’s side.
Val watched with idle curiosity as the carriage continued through town, hanging one handed backwards and crouched on her footboard. The town was busy with laborers pulling hand carts of goods on the thoroughfare. Merchants had small shop fronts, but the majority of Southold’s trade was not sold within the town, so few had anything more than samples on display. Instead the town specialized as a trade hub to the Free States to the south beyond the Pentarchies' borders. Warehouses instead made up a significant portion of the town's infrastructure, acting as storage and exchange as goods passed in and out of the town, each marked with a letter and number system that allowed systematic coordination by the Merchant Guild and its analysts.
Speaking of, they passed the Guide House next, on the inner edge of the trade district, with its wide open verandahs and shade cloths. Southold’s warm summers and mild winters lent the town to an open architecture, the outsides used preferentially to the inside. Desks and giant notice boards were arranged in the open verandah, workers shuffling wooden boards on and off pegs to mark the status of goods or rearrange the planned contents of a caravan. The Guild Steward, a tiny woman Val recognized immediately, was vibrantly yelling over the edge of one balcony to someone below, fanning herself absently while a handmaid appeared to chastise her from the side. Her belly was swollen with the late stages of pregnancy, Val was honestly surprised she was still on her feet.
Soon the carriage was past the commotion into residential districts, and continued on over the larger of the two stone bridges that crossed the Artifar. Dorius’ estate was on the southern edge where the town just extended to the second bank, a slightly more private side of the town.
The estate buzzed with activity as they arrived, the great front court had teams of men and women, some dressed in blue and some in Company leather, carrying goods to the great house or preparing the stables for the arriving beasts. All made way for the gilded carriage to pull in but quickly flocked close as it came to a halt, beginning to unstrap the tired bulls and replace the duties of those exhausted with travel. Val stepped down from her footboard, and nodded in greeting to two figures who rushed down the steps to meet the carriage. The smaller was a woman, almost identical in all manner except for the belly to the Guild Steward, a tiny darker skinned woman with an impressive headdress of braids. At first glance, it appears she had feathers in her collar to complement the look, but the black glossy feathers in fact sprouted from the skin around her neck. She was dressed in the elegant slate blue of Dorius’ house, with his gold four-horned dragon sigil proudly on her breast. The second was a tall hunched man, dressed in well used robes with sleeves stained with old ink, a Company badge pinned haphazard to one shoulder. Elias came galloping in behind the procession, sharing a saddle behind a scout on talon steed with a single heavy tome under one arm. The scout dutifully brought him straight to the front and several servants rushed forward to help him down, the scout nimbly steading his ruffled stead as people rushed about it. The woman approached Elias and offered to take the tome while he quickly dusted off his robes as best he could, and he fell in line with the welcoming party.
Val barely had time to put her hand on the carriage door, and Dorius came spilling out all on his own, waving a handful of documents at Elias the moment he caught his eye. Immediately the greeting company swept up behind him as he marched into the house, his thoughts on Vigil houses still buzzing from what she overhead. Val remained at her post for a moment watching them go, sensing rather than seeing Bastian slowly coming to her side. She sighed, retrieved her axe from the carriage roof and joined Bastian to begin the walk around to the side entrances, it was likely Dorius would be too distracted for the next several hours to wonder much about where they got to, giving them the opportunity to change and clean from weeks on the road. They both enjoyed the liberty of their own private rooms in his estate, and Bastian was already complaining aloud to her about how much he was looking forward to a clean pair of boots.
—
The sun was just starting to set when Val let herself into the study. The sliding door screens on one side of the room were completely open to the balcony, letting a gentle breeze blow in from the river side of the estate. A handmaid moved through the room beginning to prepare it for the to evening and laying out candles in anticipation of work into the night.
Dorius was standing over the center table, maps spread as if he prepared for a military campaign, finger pointed at a spot that marked a landmark or city in mid-discussion. Elias sat at the edge of his seat to one side, staff delicately balanced nearby, and Anette, Dorius’ seneschal and the women from earlier, hovered close at hand, sorting a pile of ledgers and half watching her prince. The thin, hunched man with the Company sigil, Strand, was at the opposite end of the table, consulting notes and placing brightly colored stones on the map as he worked. Bastian had arrived before her, and was sitting on his own in the lounge closer to the window, listening and idly splitting and cleaning a basket of talon steed feathers for arrows. He raised a hand to acknowledge her joining them, and returned to his work. Val found a comfortable position to lean that seemed out of the handmaid's way and turned an eye towards the map. Her eyes lingered on the familiar mask and bundled garotte at one edge of the table. They were placed on folded fabric which appeared to be the assassin’s clothes.
“So, we’ve had no goods originating from the east through the warehouses in months, and our onward trade in that direction has slowed,” explained Dorius, gesturing in a wide arch to the eastern edge of the fourth Pentarchies borders, south of the Spine, “Despite our slow trade, we know the larger mercenaries out of the Capital have been doing unusually good business and have been actively recruiting from other companies.” It was obvious she was walking in on the concluding moments of discussion that had started well before her arrival. He traced a line back towards the capital from the border with his finger. “Thus we assume that they are funneling resources through the capital from the north where the reds hold their power. Movement east would be mostly on the Pentarch’s lands.”
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“We had previously assumed that the lack of luxury trade each way was a sign of scarcity east, but resource accumulation in anticipation of military action would also impact us similarly,” added Elias.
Strand cleared his throat and moved several of the stones from the capital region to the eastern border, with a gravelly voice he announced “the recruitment from the Capital speaks to larger contracts than just protecting increased convoys, let’s also assume they are anticipating work providing reinforcement to the east as well.”
“What trade we do have still going east is mostly food, dried or preserved,” confirmed Anette, who had finally found the ledger to back up their previous speculation, she added the tables of numbers to the map for all to see.
“So,” Dorius’ eyes gleamed as returned his finger to point to the Spine, “the Spine offers no military advantage. But, the mountains are a natural northern edge of any eastern front and the Free Mountain State as a religious state would likely remain neutral. It does offer an interesting position for controlling the shortest passage of information to the First and Fifth Pentarchy. It could be a stalling point for the message of a disturbed peace reaching them, but is just too far out of reach for direct supervision from either the Capital or a potential eastern front.”
“Thus important for delaying a second front opening if they choose to honor the old pacts,” added Elias, “but it would be a delay at best. If military inquest into the Second Pentarchy was planned we’d see more change in the trade habits north, preparing for a front there.”
“I agree,” Dorius grinned, “there is no northern front anticipated then.”
Elias frowned, not quite following the Prince’s train of thought. “You think the aggression is planned to come outwards from the second then? Then why the secrecy? Invoking the old pacts would be in the Fourth’s interest then, along with expedited arrival from the other Pentarchs.”
Dorius stared intently at the map, but did not have an answer, “That’s our mystery then…”
Anette laid down the ledgers she had been reviewing, “You mentioned we predict the Spine to be neutral in any conflict?” she asked. Her glossy black feathers lay flat around her collar.
Dorius looked up from the map for the first time and spotted Val had joined them, “Val, pass the Chapel records, there.”
Val did as bid and picked up the large tome on her side of the table, the book Elias had been instructed to retrieve during their arrival. Dorius opened it to a page he had marked with a scrap of paper, it appeared to list names and dates. He pointed at the final entry, letting Elias inspect it.
“The Spine is likely the only place in the continent that regularly engages in diplomacy with all five arms of the Pentarchy. As a religious state, it is likely they would never side with any individual Pentarch. If there is something brewing, a withdrawal would be an obvious choice to avoid conflict,” responded Elias to Anette as he read the page of the tome.
“Notice anything?” asked Dorius, turning to find a chair and settle into it.
Elias raised an eyebrow, “This record claims the current Prime Vigilant has served for over four hundred years.”
Dorius nodded, “I grew curious when every document I could find mentioned the same name. You think it’s real?”
Elias rubbed his chin, and turned a few pages back to read some other parts of the text, “The likely explanation is that each successor just takes up the name of the previous and their own records make no differentiation, it gives the Vigil’s capital an appearance of mystique…” he paused, “and yet, I have heard odd things about the Spine.”
“They say the old magic lingers there Sir,” offered Anette, “Merchants return, speaking of an uncommon number of Fae walking the streets. Outsiders are not allowed into the mountains past the city. The Chapel claims the land is sacred, forbidden to all not invited.”
Val grew curious at the mention of Fae and magic, standing a little straighter from her position to the side of the table.
“They say,” said Bastian from the sitting area, drawing a feather out of his mouth to speak clearer as all parties turned to him, “Old Gods still walk the Spine. The bards sing songs about shapeshifters and flying horses.”
“Bards tell stories,” chided Elias.
Bastian put down his pocket knife, “And most bards train at Vigil run colleges.” His statement implied he agreed with Elias’ skepticism, but his eyes had a glint of childish glee.
“The magic bards tell of is likely exaggerated,” declared Strand, “What remains, well… I’m sure it is in the Vigilants’ best interests to keep it secret to bolster their own waning relevance.” The man did not mince words.
Val looked at her feet, nervous Bastian or Dorius would look her way and suddenly draw attention at her. Fortunately, Dorius seemed to move the conversation onwards, “It will be another mystery we can investigate, we will likely begin our efforts with the Prime Vigilant regardless. Elias arranged the dispatch of three Company men north while we were still at the Palace, they will likely already be making contact with mercenaries operating in the region to begin learning what they can in anticipation of arrival.”
Val looked up again, and glanced at Bastian. He was busy with his feathers again, carefully turning one in his hands he seemed unsatisfied with the shape of. She looked down again before she might catch his eye.
The handmaid returned at that moment, bringing a tray with dried figs, dates and imported soft cheeses drizzled with honey, as well as steaming fresh bread. A second servant followed her with a carafe of dark red wine, and several crystal cups. They arranged them to one side of the room while Dorius and Elias struck up a discussion focused on logistics for the next few days, Strand and Anette carefully following and offering their own knowledge as requested or making notes for their own follow up.
Val took a small plate and selected a couple of dates as well as preparing some bread with cheese and honey spread on it. She offered the first plate to Dorius, leaving it on the edge of his map at his side. She then felt free to serve herself and chose to join Bastian now that the conversation at the table seemed to be mostly tending towards planning. She placed the plate between them and sat, and Bastian moved his basket of feathers to the side to make room for it.
“Think we’ll get more than a few days' break?” she asked him, picking up one of the dates and carefully tearing it open to remove the pip. Bastian had moved on to cleaning the edges of his feathers with a pocket knife, using his hand to measure the shape as he worked.
“Ha, no,” he responded, “Look at him. Our boy loves a good puzzle, he’ll be on the road as fast as Anette can manage it.” He looked down the length of the feather he was working on, deemed it passable, and added it to a growing pile. As he picked up the next one, and seemed to pause in thought for a moment, “Why? You have business?” he asked.
Val shrugged, “Not really.”
“You want to come out to the tavern after this?”
Val hesitated, then gave Dorius a quick glance. Bastian tsk’d and blithely waved his knife in a gesture about the room, “I doubt there is anywhere safer than his own estate, he’ll not miss you for a few hours.” Val’s expression did not soften. “Suit yourself then, join us later if you can,” he settled on offering.