RYLA

A sea of knights flooded around Ryla to her breaking point. There’s one hundred and seventy-five of them and Ryla felt the presence of everyone. No matter how long she spent in Vanguard this many men with swords in one place always intimidated her. But she would never let it show. She couldn’t. How could the Lord of Vanguard’s wife show any hesitation in her husband’s forces? She’d do an old trick her mother told her of locking her hands together in front of her. It helped bring fortitude she found.

As she carved her path around horses and through chatting squires she realised how little of their faces she could place a name to. She had no mind for strategy or war but Allard would know all their names she knew. And she knew somewhere in this twattling mass of bravado she would find her husband.

The gray overcast above was the first sign of providence Ryla took reassurance in. It would neither bring rain to slow spirits and muddy the roads ahead nor bring heat to tire the horses and demand more water than they could bear. Ryla had prayed to all three Gods three times a day that the long ride north would go as peacefully as possible. She would continue to pray until her husband returned home. With his brother and his family if the Gods granted it but Ryla wasn’t one to push her fortune.

Ryla had made the trip to Briarhill only once when she was a girl. For the marriage of Prince Alden Thorn and Princess Vichera Redmayne. The journey was a long and arduous affair from Overbrim in the heat of summer. Yet the dazzling spectacle of the ceremony had been enough to dissuade any travel weariness.

It was the first royal wedding in thirty years and no expense had been spared. There was an endless selection of the One Realm’s finest foods free to everyone from Lords to squires. Ryla’s father brought a diverse plethora of the richest fruits from the Overbrim which she remembered the Princess found particular delight in. There was a Sol’Ra Lord from the Red Sea who brought a coach of camel meat, a prized delicacy in the region. Most Lords and Ladies shunned the foreign specialty leaving it to the knights.

Of course the Aevum Palace was a sight in and of itself to behold. Fit for a wedding for all to speak of for years to come. But nothing was more captivating than the sight of Princess Vichera in her flowery dress resembling petals of the family she was wedding but in the ardent white of the Redmayne’s. The Steel Rose the singers called her.

Ryla also recalled it was the first time she met Allar, along with his father, then Liege Lord Evander Astarre. Ryla would never dare admit it but her affections were far more caught by the stoney and distinguished features of the Liege Lord than the boy Allard was. But she was also weary of the Lord. She had heard him to be wild like the rest of the Forelands and like the Haakons of past they had sworn and fought for. Word only worsened when the whisperers spoke that the Astarres had brought no gift nor food with them, a major disrespect.

So it seemed they had snubbed the crown marriage until the feast itself. Lord Evander rose to toast the couple. Evander was one of the most revered Liege’s in the realm seated right beneath the royal family and commanded the ears of everyone. As he bestowed his best prayers upon the newly wed he beckoned to his Head Pathfinder. The doors flung open and four Sirs carried in a beast of a creature. The entire room fell to a hush as the fresh corpse of a legendary Hibernian Lynx was dropped before the raised dais of the royal table.

Ryla remembered seeing the royal family as they all took a moment to digest the move. Princess Vichera seemed distressed at the sight of the dead creature but kept her composure. She turned to her father, Liege Lord Alexandrian Redmayne but his eyes were glued to Lord Evander. Prince Alden in turn looked slighted at the gesture, mayhaps misunderstanding the importance of the beast. Queen Llyanna had a polite but wary expression to her visage as if the day had been far too long for her liking. It was the late King Orson who took command, rising with a gleam in his eye.

“Lord Astarre. You honour my own with unparalleled reverence. This is truly a gift for the ages.” The King chanted.

In truth that was putting it light. The scholars of the Athenaeum had declared all Hibernian Lynx to be extinct for over a hundred years, and yet here one lay with the mythic white frosted fur that made it seem like fresh snow clung to its body. Some poets say Lord Evander climbed alone to the Twelve Peaks during winter’s coldest wind and willed for a fortnight that a lynx appear before him.

If that was true Ryla considered it an inefficient use of time considering so little of the beast could be used for meat that only those of the dais could taste it. But they say it was the most tender and succulent meat to ever cross their lips.

Ryla had been excited at the opportunity to return to Briarhill with the Queen’s labour day and see how it had changed. But she couldn't go now. She was needed here, at her son’s side. Besides, Allard’s reception was unlikely to be as warm as the last.

As the field of armour split in front of her Ryla finally caught a glimpse of her husband. He was already well dressed for riding, equipped with his vulcan steel sword. Forged by the blacksmiths of Vulcan using ancient techniques the strong metal he bore was detailed like flowing water but was known to be the strongest in the Realm. Not all Vulcan swords are as old as the practice but this was a family heirloom passed down through generations. It had a name too, Ryla knew, but she was not privy to it. “A husband has few secrets from his wife. This is one.” He had told her.

His wife has fewer, Ryla thought, but secrets nonetheless.

Allard was in conversation with Master Nickle and Sir Ansel as she approached. She stood aside awaiting for their finish. Neither would be going with her husband so their final words were as important as her own.

“Two hundred, my lord, counted and ready.” Master Nickle said. “But there’s still room for more.” They had upped the count since last Ryla had heard.

“No. That’s more than enough. Any more and we’d best winter in Briarhill by the time we arrive.” Allard spoke. “Rally the mounted troops. My castle is your castle, Master Nickle.

“Until your return, my lord.” Master Nickle nodded and departed. “My lady.” He said as he passed. He bellowed to the crowd of knights and in chaotic order they started to march up the north road. Ryla started to feel like she could breathe again.

“What do you make of my company, Sir Ansel?” Allard asked his Head Pathfinder. He was a man of select words and Allard often had to coax his thoughts out of him.

“A good sort, my lord. The best in Vanguard's service.” Sir Ansel said.

“But you have your reservations.” Allard said.

“No, my lord.” Sir Ansel replied. “I simply would recommend you increase the Pathfinders count. We are one hundred and twenty. Only taking twenty seems an underutilisation.”

“We could bring all one hundred and twenty and it would not make a difference if it all comes to violence.” Allard said.

Ryla didn’t like to hear the thought but she knew it to be true. Their forces were more for image than anything else. Inside the walls of the Palace they couldn’t fight their way out. She prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Aye! But we could take a few royal cunts down with us.” The ever brass Raven bellowed from her stead encircling nearby.

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A few squires in earshot laughed at her remarks. But Sir Ansel blushed like a maiden at the words. He was rather withdrawn for a former sailor.

“Are we leaving before the sun goes down, brother?” Raven asked.

Allard turned to Sir Ansel. “See my sister to my brother. Acquaint her to Pathfinders in his guard.”

Sir Ansel bowed and led Raven away, who teased him as she was want to do as they walked away.

Allard took a deep breath. “Exhaustion may take me before we leave.”

Ryla moved to her husband’s side. “What makes you think yourself so fortunate?” She stroked his tense shoulders. “No, my dear. The path is set. You must be as unwavering in your journey as the sun.”

Allard moved a hand on Ryla and held her close. “Tell me, my lady. Will you yearn for me in the night as the birds do the dawn?”

“Twice as hard. Thrice as hard. However, much it takes to see your safe return.” Ryla said and gave Allard a kiss that she wanted him to remember until he got his next.

Theirs, like most, was not a betrothal of the heart. Yet through thousands of nights, hundreds of arguments, fifteen years and two children, affection had latched its way on their hearts like a leech.

The two broke away and stared down each other’s eyes they knew so well. “It’s time. I should find Ennis.” Allard said.

That name, Ryla thought, It will always come between us. She did not say as much. She only bowed aside after one final kiss and watched him rally the remaining knights in the courtyard. Like the wind that predicts a storm, the armoured knights all flowed in his direction following him away. She followed him with her eyes for as long as could. She lost him between the sullen cloaks only to catch a glimpse of him again. Until the entire company finally meld into a cloud of metal on the road that trickled into the distance.

Ryla was left behind in the aftermath. Hooves and heavy footprints carved up the courtyard like some mighty battle that had left no bodies behind. Squires not deemed worthy enough, nor expendable enough to take with them were busying at clearing leather straps, horse feed, and armour bracers.

There were only six horses remaining, two of which were being fed by Elsa’s maiden Lady Tressa. She held a wisp of hay to their mouths to which she giggled every time the horses’ tongue touched her hand. It was likely a frustrating affair for the horses, the girl barely offered them a mouthful. Still, the carriage attached to their straps will prove a tiresome undertaking on the journey to Sentinel so Ryla found a kindness in the Lady’s act.

“Oh. Good morrow, Lady Ryla.” Tressa caught herself when she found she was being watched.

“Greetings, Tressa. Don’t you look darling.” Ryla said.

Tressa puffed her sky blue dress out modestly. “You’re very kind. This was my mother’s stitchwork. A gift for the occasion.”

“She must have slaved herself for such a fine seam.” Ryla said as she felt the soft dress in her fingers. Ryla knew Tressa’s mother well enough. A kind and gentle type, but a lady only in practice. She had no great wealth even before her late husband passed away from a festered wound. This dress likely cost her a fortune. “I must invite your mother for dinner some time. We can bond over our absent daughters.”

Tressa smiled sadly at that. Ryla knew why. Tressa’s mother was far too polite to expect anything that could be perceived as charity. It took some convincing for her to even allow Tressa to stay at Vanguard.

Ryla leaned into Tressa. “Do make the most of your time in the Claim. They say the boys there are prettier and more mild than anywhere else in the Forelands.”

Tressa blushed at her words. Ryla wished she could speak more boldly. This is your chance girl. Do what you have to procure one’s livelihood. Keep yourself safe.

But Tressa was more naïve than most. Ryla could not be certain as to what would be repeated.

“Where is my daughter?” Ryla asked, looking at the empty carriage.

“Saying her goodbyes to Leo.” Tressa answered.

“Very well. What of you? Are you ready for the ride?” Ryla asked.

“Indeed. My heart pops in excitement to see the lands the singers lust so much over.” Tressa said with earnestness.

Tressa’s lightheartedness was overshadowed when the gravitas of the situation came clunkily creaking towards them in a metal cage. The man Ryla remembered to be her wed-brother had so little in common with the man she saw now. Leondre was weak and frail, his mind fragile and scattered. His black hair turned to wisps and his eyes red and afraid of the daylight.

Ryla could feel Tressa hid behind her like a pup as the Pathfinder bought Leondre’s cage near to be attached to the four waiting horses.

“Do not fear, good girl. He bears you no harm.” Ryla said while watching the girl. Her eyes were not on Ryla’s wed-brother but her wed-sister on her black mare. Ladies like Tressa were always weary of ladies like Raven. But Ryla knew her from her infrequent visits and knew she had more bark than bite. As far as she knew.

It was the sight of Raven’s co-chatterer, Ennis, that brought Tressa’s feelings to Ryla. Blasted man, he should be beyond the keep by now. If Allard’s not here, his place isn’t here.

Fortunately Ennis’ attention was on the act of latching Leondre's cage to his horses. Kesper was biting at the heels of the Pathfinders the entire time barking madly. Even Sir Eason seemed to be a bit reddened by the noise. Raven’s barks back didn’t help.

It wasn’t until Leo stepped out and hushed Kesper that he finally fell quiet. They were all thankful for that. Behind Leo Elsa followed in a plain brown riding gear.

“You changed clothes.” Ryla noted. She was supposed to wear formal wear.

“It’s a long ride. I’ll be sure to wear a proper gown when Sentinel’s insight.” Elsa said.

Tressa deflated a little. “I feel slightly embellished now.”

Ryla looked at Elsa. It was her slight to soothe. And she was smart enough to know it.

“Nonsense, Tressa. You are a beauty to behold. I simply must wait to adorn myself until I met Lord Ryain.” Elsa said.

“Too right.” Tressa responded. “You should indeed wait as he does for you. It is very sweet.” Clever enough, Ryla thought. Played into her romantic nature. Those wits will help in the Claim.

“It is time for you to join your father.” Ryla told the two.

Tressa hopped into the waiting carriage.

Ryla gave Elsa a tight hug. “Be good, my dear girl. Write to me as much as you need. I pray to see you soon.”

“And you mother. Look after, Leo.” Elsa responded.

Elsa stepped into the carriage.

A metal clink signaled the horses were secured to Leondre’s cage they would haul to Briarhill. Ryla was at least thankful her daughter wouldn’t be going that far.

Ryla turned to see Ennis’ eyes on her for only a glimpse before he turned to the waiting Pathfinders. “Come. We depart.” With that Ennis led Leondre away.

Sir Eason watched them go. Ryla searched to see some longing to go with them in his face. Nonetheless she was grateful he would be staying. Leo approached him whispering to him just a word.

Sir Eason moved to Elsa’s carriage. “Lady Elsa, do you see the red headed knight?” Sir Eason asked. Elsa looked out at the Pathfinders following the cage. She spotted the flamed haired freckled Pathfinder. “That’s Sir Smyth. Should you require anything. Do not restrain yourself from asking him. He’s a good knight. A good man.”

“Thank you, Sir Eason. In turn I ask what my brother asked of you for his care as well.” Elsa said.

Sir Eason nodded.

“Time to go.” Raven cried out. She faced Leo. “Nephew. Vanguard has stood for hundreds of years. Don’t let it fall on your watch. See you soon enough, Ryla.” She pulled her mare forward. “Well rider? Stop scratching your balls and ride.”

The rider awakened from his silent stupor. “Yes, m’lady.” He whipped the carriage’s horses into movement. The carriage jerked into motion and Elsa looked out the window as they pulled away. Ryla watched as she too disappeared. She expected Kesper to go mad again. If anything she wanted it to. For someone to announce the sorrow she felt. But Leo kept a hand on him and while he did he made not a whimper.

Instead they stood together silently as the last of the traveling party disappeared over the rise in the horizon. Then the quiet settled in. That’s what Ryla would always remember, not the last words or final looks but the quiet. She had not prepared for how still it would be. She felt lost in the calm.