Val leaned on her axe and inspected the scavenged remains of their wagon. Around her, she was aware of the glaring eyes of pilgrims but none dare approach her after the events of the past few days.
They had emerged with the trade caravan set for Kal’Fall. The Vigilants had snuck Dorius and Bastian into the final caravan that the Laons usually guarded after a day of rest, and they rattled down the road without her followed by the rising sun. Val walked freely through the gate again, much to Gail’s continued belligerence. Her axe had still been lying in the road where she’d thrown it in the dark.
The rest of their wagon was not so lucky. The bulls were missing; food, clothing, and valuables had been looted from their trunks; their tent had been disassembled and made off with. Val felt some sympathy for the pilgrims and their circumstances, and may not have minded if it had just been their food or charcoal supplies. But it turned quickly to anger when personal belongings were missing as well. Bastian’s elegant war bow was gone, Val’s trunk had been looted of her few changes of clothes in her size, and what scraps remained of Dorius’ books indicated they had been torn apart for fuel. She threw a filthy look around her, hoping to catch a pilgrim’s eye and finding none available. They had made themselves scarce. In a fit of frustrated rage, she bought her axe down and shattered the wagon's wheels so they would get no use from it.
There was not much point in gathering what remained of their belongings, so she made her way grimly through the pilgrims tents and down to the road to catch up with the caravan. She passed Clara’s large tent in her exit, and noted the job board lay on the ground and no pilgrims assembled for the days work. As she neared the road and the Snake’s encampment, she took a path slightly back from it between the hovels and shelters, nervous of any confrontation. There was a quiet tension in the air still, and Val was loath to disturb it.
The broken horned Laon marched with the covered wagon the Vigilants had loaned them, Lee’to enthusiastically leading the two bulls at the fore. His name, Val had finally learned, was Til’wane.
The sickle horned Laon had brusquely bashed on their door during their rest the previous day and called her out, lip curled in a snarl of disgust as he followed through on her orders to him. “This one and that one will follow you in service, they remain part of our colony and may return here when you free them,” he had declared - gesturing to Lee’to and Til’wane. Lee’to had seemed pleased with the order, and Til’wane had become significantly more comfortable since as well. Lee’to had found her new clothing again as well, wide legged pants tied at the waist with a broad band and fresh breast-bindings, and she had changed out of the bloodied robes, although Dorius had ordered Lee’to to pack them with his things. The sickle horned Laon had given her one final gift, although it pained him, a full wolf pelt and broach set with pitted, black stone to pin it. When Val had asked why he only spat in a cryptic response, “The wolf marks his kind.” Val wore the pelt pinned around her shoulders.
The genderless Vigilant had visited during their day of rest as well, and Dorius spoke at length with them while Val was busy arranging what she could for their travel to Kal’Fall. Normally, this was work that would have fallen to Bastian, who had slept the day in Dorius’ guest quarters. The soldier Laons seemed unable to deny Val any request though, and so it was easy work for her to get what supplies they needed.
She gave Til’wane a nod as she returned to the caravan. He still wore his charm on his one whole horn, and it bobbed in jaunty juxtaposition to his stiff demeanor. Dorius pulled back the cover of the wagon to peak out at her, his eyes hopeful, “The wagon?” he asked.
Val shook her head, and placed her axe in with him and Bastian.
“Looted, by the pilgrims.”
“What of my books?”
“I suspect used as fuel.” Dorius looked horrified, and sunk back into the shadow of the wagon. Val added to Bastian, “Your bow was gone too.”
Bastian scowled, his bruising had turned a mottling of yellows and olives, but at least most of the swelling was down. Paired with the bandaging on his nose, and his pink shaved head, he looked far removed from his usual rakish charm.
“We will need to make contact with the Phoenix Company,” muttered Dorius, “I cannot be greeting any of my cousins as I am now. Elias and Hart should not be far away and we sent three company men ahead to scout, we will need to make contact.”
“It is only a few hours to Kal’Fall, what are your orders?” asked Til’wane eyes on Val, he said the name of Kal’Fall with an odd accent. Til’wane had been less hesitant to speak first since officially ordered into Val’s service, and while he was still awkward much of his uncertainty seemed alleviated. When Val had her first moment with the two Laon, she had impressed upon them that Dorius and Bastian were extensions of herself, and their orders to be considered as equal to hers. Lee’to seemed to have no issues with the order, but Til’wane had shuffled silently.
Val looked round the side of the wagon, Lee’to was leaning to hear their words without bidding.
“Separate us from the caravan once we have some distance, we will wait a while so we do not come into town with the caravan and we can consider how to venture into Kal’Fall once we see the city,” ordered Bastian from within, his scowl only deepened and he drummed his hands against the floor of the wagon. “I am not looking forward to any of this,” he muttered, “Three fucking Fae now, and who knows what stories the High Haveners will share before we arrive.”
Dorius settled into the wagon, bracing himself against its rattle. “If we can reconnect with Elias and the Company, at least we can drop our subterfuge and you can properly rest,” he offered. It did little to break Bastian’s foul mood.
Val walked with Til’wane at the front of the wagon with the bulls and Lee’to. For the first time, Val had some quiet to discuss with them, and she asked a few tentative questions about their colony. Dorius listened with great curiosity, leaning at the front of the wagon with his head peaking out of the covers. Bastian sulked within, an uncommonly dark mood about him.
Lee’to explained with her gestures and Til’wane translated, if he added his own embellishment none of them would have known enough of Lee’to’s language to tell. She confirmed what they had already guessed, that Laon society was divided into many castes, and they lived in a great colony within the cavern systems of the Spine, ruled by a Matriarch. The most prevalent were the worker caste, born slightly smaller than a hume - apparently their word for human - and with a horn on each side of their jaw beneath the ears just like Lee’to. They conducted most of the service work of the colony, exempt from hard labor, and many were apprenticed into specialized trade roles as their interests and aptitudes suited them. They were all mute but not deaf, speaking instead a language with their hands that Dorius was keen to learn.
The next most prevalent were the soldier caste, like Til’wane. Lee’to explained matter of factly that the soldier caste were the labor class, typically a a little obtuse, but they followed orders well from the higher castes. Til’wane translated her words with a blank expression on his face and no reaction. They were marked by their size and were born without horns, growing them as they reached maturity. All had Val’s unnatural strength, and Lee’to explained slyly that while most were as tall as she, it was rare they were as so strongly muscled.
There were two other castes Lee’to explained next, the maiden and the drone caste. The sickle horned Laon at the Chapel was a drone caste, they were the breeding castes and also filled a role like lower nobility, typically carrying the orders of the Matriarch to the other members of the colony and supervising their execution. The maiden caste were the female equivalents, who rarely left the colony, they served the Matriarch directly. Both were born without horns as children, but typically their personalities and intelligence marked them as apart from soldiers, and their horns would grow spiraling and elegant as proof when they grew.
Finally, the Matriarch ruled the colony with her daughters. The Matriarchs birthed only daughters, some would be born maidens or workers but a few would develop to be six-horned like she was, marking those who were fit to follow in her footsteps, and they ruled the colony through birth right and force of character. Lee’to explained the mountain colonies’ Matriarch was now very old, and she left her rule to her eldest daughter who had recently begun development of her third pair of horns marking her as a matriarch.
Which left Alates.
“The Alates are born once in a generation or so, even rarer than the Matriarch who usually has a few heirs to spare among her daughters. They are born both boy and girl, and grow to be four-horned. Alates are our cultural heritage, they travel between the colonies and learn of our own kind and the world beyond and bring that knowledge back to the colonies. They are gifted with the strength of the soldier, and the diligence of the worker, and the nobility of the breeders, and many still remember the way of the gods,” translated Til’wane as Lee’to spoke with her hands.
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“What do you mean they know the way of the gods?” asked Dorius, keenly listening.
Lee’to did not gesture, but Til’wane spoke, “They hear the silent symphony. They speak with fire and earth.”
Val was silent, and Dorius asked another question, “Who are your gods? Do you know of the Watcher?”
Lee’to made a gesture in front of her chest that was without a doubt the Watcher’s eye, then spoke for a moment with Til’wane translating, “All know the Watcher, but we do not follow the Hume gods. Our colony acknowledges the Wolf God, who cares for the elk and stag and beasts of the mountain, as well as the Mountain God who forms our home. The Wolf God visits with us occasionally, and we hold great feasts and celebrations.”
Dorius seemed to have already normalized the idea that gods walked among them since his conversation with the Vigilants, but the idea they would eat with their followers seemed strange to him still, “The Wolf God visits with you?”
Lee’to spoke excitedly with her hands, and Til’wane seemed slightly put-off as he translated her words, “He is young and handsome and the wolves who travel with him play with the children and run races through the caverns. Sometimes the winged horses are with him, and we watch them graze in the mountain meadows.”
“Does he relate to the exchange you have with the Vigilants?” asked Val, cocking her head as she made the connection.
“Yes, he asked us to help serve the chapel during the time of the unrest, to keep the Vigilants safe. We have abided by that request for many generations now. In turn, the Vigilants pass some of their supplies up to the colony.”
It was soon midmorning, and Lee’to pulled the bulls off the road to rest as Bastian had instructed, and she set them up a light lunch from the meagre supplies. Dorius was already greatly pleased with her service, and Val and Bastian hovered back letting her handle most of the little labors of tending to him. Dorius seemed eager to learn her hand language and they both sat on a scrap of canvas while she attempted to begin teaching him, her behaviors perfectly deferential and enthusiastic. Val sat on the back of the wagon, Til’wane keeping a silent vigil standing at her side watching up and down the road. Bastian stretched gingerly on the edge of the road, the bumpy wagon ride must have been rough on his healing sides and gut. The burns were still covered, but he scratched at the edges of his bandages restlessly.
Bastian righted himself from his stretches, and watched Dorius for a moment, then caught Val’s eye and stalked over to join her. Val stiffened, but did not leave as he joined her on the back of the wagon. The sides of the wagon were only so wide, and they were almost touching where he chose to sit.
“You should prioritize your guard on Dorius,” muttered Bastian darkly to Til’wane, “Val can care for herself.”
Til’wane inclined his head slightly, beads on his charm clattering together, and grabbed his halberd to stand closer to Dorius, leaving them alone.
Val sighed, “You don’t need to be unnecessarily rude,” she chastised gently.
Bastian snorted, “It’s not rude, the other one said he was a little dim.”
Val turned in her seat to regard Bastian with one eye, “You have a problem?”
“Ha, do I have a problem? Not more than usual,” he growled.
Val was silent, she knew well enough he had plenty of reasons to be bitter given the last few days and it seemed Bastian had little interest in rehashing old arguments so she would let him sulk until he worked it from his system. Instead she offered, “I’m sorry about your bow.”
Bastian leaned on one side of the wagon, fingers rubbing his shaved head. “Not your fault,” yet the edge of his voice implied he was blaming her.
Val watched Dorius a moment, he was attempting to copy a movement Lee’to was teaching him and she was adjusting his fingers to get the motion just right. Til’wane stood nearby, eyes watching up the road, every inch of him the trained soldier.
“It’s hard to remember he’s younger than us some days,” she commented idly.
Bastian grunted. Val sat a little taller, slightly annoyed at him now, if he had no desire to talk with her why had he sent Til’wane away? She leaned forward as if to leave, when he finally voiced his thought, “What didn’t Dorius tell me?”
Val bit back a rebuke. She relaxed a little to manage her nerves, settling into her side of the wagon, and raised a knee to turn and look at him better.
“It’s not my place,” she replied after a moment to control herself.
“I know.”
“And you ask it anyway?”
Bastian huffed. “The creature in the mountain is related to the Vigilants request for help?”
Val did not respond, but knew her silence gave him the answer he was looking for.
“Have I not done this just as long as you?” hissed Bastian, “Why keep me out?”
Val bristled, “It’s not my place. You know this?” she cast a glance at Dorius hoping he couldn’t overhear. The motion seemed to stoak Bastian’s mood further and he scoffed resentfully. She frowned, but her patience was running out. “What would you have me do?”
“Don’t let Dorius make stupid decisions, I told him not to take you. You agreed that it was a bad idea!”
Val sighed, “I can’t change the past. I’m sorry it ended out the way it did, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you are not sorry that you took his side?” accused Bastian.
Val shot him a sharp glance, a warning that he was beginning to take this too far. With great control she lowered her voice, “No.”
Surprisingly Bastian barked a harsh laugh, he rose, standing on the step up at the back of the wagon and balancing himself on the side so that he was taller than her. “I guess you got what you wanted, some Fae friends.”
Val rose now too, rising to stand over him, “What of it?! I don’t deserve to know what I am? I thought you supported this?”
Dorius turned his head to watch them. Their fight had picked up too much steam for either to realize the attention they drew.
Bastian threw his hands in frustration, and stepped down from the wagon turning away from her, “Great! Don’t need me then!”
Val followed, grabbing one shoulder to stop him, but he threw her hand off with a shrug. “Bastian!” she called after him.
He marched away, hand on one side of his torso and a hitch in his step where the hurried movement pulled on a strain. Val spun, groaning with frustration and collapsed back into her seat at the back of the wagon.
Dorius watched them both for a moment, head swinging back and forth, his excitement at learning something new forgotten. Lee’to wrung her hands nervously while Til’wane seemed to solve all his problems by passively pretending he wasn’t there.
Dorius rose, and wandered to Val’s side.
“What’s he upset about?” he asked.
Val exhaled sharply through her nose and hummed a moment considering her answer. “Secrets,” was her only reply. Dorius silently considered her, and his eyes darted in thought as if he were putting together pieces of their behavior the past few days that had slipped his attention.
“We will need to get moving again, I’ll go get him. You've both been acting like children,” he added.
Val scoffed, "That's rich from you."
He wandered after Bastian, Til’wane and Lee’to returning to her. She gave them both a side glance, and found herself frustrated with their behavior suddenly. Why this constant need for orders? It was like a hunting dog constantly turning to its master, she had asked for no such responsibility. She felt stifled by them, used so long to companions that gave her space. Her feelings at meeting her own kind fluctuated from curiosity and hope still to frustration at her inability to know what questions to ask, or resentment at this odd reverence and hesitation she felt from them. This unspoken weight of expectations and disappointment, especially from the sickle horned one. She wondered if Lee’to and Til’wane were just as disappointed as he was, although better at masking it due to her apparent rank in the castes relative to them.
Raised voices came from the treeline, where Bastian continued to take his bitter mood out on Dorius. Val only caught fragments of the conversation. She heard her name once or twice and allowed herself a scowl.
“Get the wagon ready to leave,” she barked to the Laons, and went to the front to gather the bulls' leads. After a few moments Bastian stalked back to the wagon, he shot Val a black glance full of feelings she had never seen from him before before climbing back into the back to ride. Dorius was not far behind him, his face flush red with own anger about whatever they had argued about. He chose to ride at the front so he didn’t have to share with Bastian, and the party began to move again with a cloud of unspoken tension remaining.